Chapter IV (3)

[Footnote 6: Captain Bathurst, and the officers of the 'Salsette', anxious to see the arsenal and the Turkish fleet, paid a visit with Byron to Ali, the Capudan-Pasha, or Lord High Admiral.

"He was," writes Hobhouse ('Travels in Albania, etc.', vol. ii. p.
279), "in his kiosk of audience at Divan-Hane, a splendid chamber,
surrounded by his attendants, and, contrary to custom, received us
sitting. He is reported to be a ferocious character, and certainly had
the appearance of being so."]

138.--To his Mother.

Constantinople, May 18, 1810.

Dear Madam,--I arrived here in an English frigate from Smyrna a few
days ago, without any events worth mentioning, except landing to view
the plains of Troy, and afterwards, when we were at anchor in the
Dardanelles, _swimming_ from Sestos to Abydos, in imitation of
Monsieur Leander, whose story you, no doubt, know too well for me to
add anything on the subject except that I crossed the Hellespont
without so good a motive for the undertaking. As I am just going to
visit the Captain-Pacha, you will excuse the brevity of my letter.
When Mr. Adair takes leave I am to see the Sultan and the mosques,
etc.

Believe me, yours ever,

BYRON.

139.--To his Mother.

Constantinople, May 24, 1810.

Dear Mother,--I wrote to you very shortly the other day on my arrival
here, and, as another opportunity avails, take up my pen again, that
the frequency of my letters may atone for their brevity. Pray did you
ever receive a picture of me in oil by _Sanders_ in _Vigo Lane_,
London? (a noted limner); if not, write for it immediately; it was
paid for, except the frame (if frame there be), before I left England.
I believe I mentioned to you in my last that my only notable exploit
lately has been swimming from Sestos to Abydos in humble imitation of
_Leander_, of amorous memory; though I had no _Hero_ to receive me on
the other shore of the Hellespont.

Of Constantinople you have of course read fifty descriptions by sundry
travellers, which are in general so correct that I have nothing to add
on the subject. When our ambassador takes his leave I shall accompany
him to see the Sultan, and afterwards probably return to Greece. I
have heard nothing of Mr. H----, but one remittance without any letter
from that legal gentleman. If you have occasion for any pecuniary
supply, pray use my funds as far as they _go_, without reserve; and
lest there should not be enough, in my next to Mr. H----I will direct
him to advance any sum you want, leaving at your discretion how much,
in the present state of my affairs, you may think proper to require.

I have already seen the most interesting part of Turkey in Europe and
Asia Minor, but shall not proceed further till I hear from England. In
the mean time I shall expect occasional supplies, according to
circumstances, and shall pass my summer amongst my friends the Greeks
of the Morea. You will direct to Malta, where my letters are
forwarded.

And believe me, with great sincerity, yours ever,

BYRON.

P.S.--Fletcher is well. Pray take care of my boy Robert and the old
man Murray. It is fortunate they returned; neither the youth of the
one nor the age of the other would have suited the changes of climate
and fatigue of travelling.

140.--To Henry Drury.

Constantinople, June 17, 1810.

Though I wrote to you so recently, I break in upon you again to
congratulate you on a child being born, [1] as a letter from Hodgson
apprizes me of that event, in which I rejoice.

I am just come from an expedition through the Bosphorus to the Black
Sea and the Cyanean Symplegades, up which last I scrambled with as
great risk as ever the Argonauts escaped in their hoy. You remember
the beginning of the nurse's dole in the 'Medea', of which I beg you
to take the following translation, done on the summit:--

"Oh how I wish that an embargo
Had kept in port the good ship Argo!
Who, still unlaunched from Grecian docks,
Had never passed the Azure rocks;
But now I fear her trip will be a
Damned business for my Miss Medea, etc., etc.," [2]

as it very nearly was to me;--for, had not this sublime passage been
in my head, I should never have dreamed of ascending the said rocks,
and bruising my carcass in honour of the ancients.

I have now sat on the Cyaneans, swam from Sestos to Abydos (as I
trumpeted in my last), and, after passing through the Morea again,
shall set sail for Santa Maura, and toss myself from the Leucadian
promontory;--surviving which operation, I shall probably join you in
England. Hobhouse, who will deliver this, is bound straight for these
parts; and, as he is bursting with his travels, I shall not anticipate
his narratives, but merely beg you not to believe one word he says,
but reserve your ear for me, if you have any desire to be acquainted
with the truth.

I am bound for Athens once more, and thence to the Morea; but my stay
depends so much on my caprice, that I can say nothing of its probable
duration. I have been out a year already, and may stay another; but I
am quicksilver, and say nothing positively. We are all very much
occupied doing nothing, at present. We have seen every thing but the
mosques, which we are to view with a firman on Tuesday next. But of
these and other sundries let H. relate, with this proviso, that
'I' am to be referred to for authenticity; and I beg leave to
contradict all those things whereon he lays particular stress. But, if
he soars at any time into wit, I give you leave to applaud, because
that is necessarily stolen from his fellow-pilgrim. Tell Davies [3]
that Hobhouse has made excellent use of his best jokes in many of his
Majesty's ships of war; but add, also, that I always took care to
restore them to the right owner; in consequence of which he (Davies)
is no less famous by water than by land, and reigns unrivalled in the
cabin as in the "Cocoa Tree." [4]

And Hodgson has been publishing more poesy--I wish he would send me
his 'Sir Edgar', [5] and Bland's 'Anthology', to Malta,
where they will be forwarded. In my last, which I hope you received, I
gave an outline of the ground we have covered. If you have not been
overtaken by this despatch, Hobhouse's tongue is at your service.
Remember me to Dwyer, who owes me eleven guineas. Tell him to put them
in my banker's hands at Gibraltar or Constantinople. I believe he paid
them once, but that goes for nothing, as it was an annuity.

I wish you would write. I have heard from Hodgson frequently. Malta is
my post-office. I mean to be with you by next Montem. You remember the
last,--I hope for such another; but after having swam across the
"broad Hellespont," I disdain Datchett. [6] Good afternoon!

I am yours, very sincerely,

BYRON.

[Footnote 1: Henry Drury, afterwards Archdeacon of Wilts.]

[Footnote 2: Euripides, 'Medea', lines 1-7--

[Greek (transliterated)]:

Eith _ophel Argous mae diaptasthai skaphos
Kolch_on es aian kuaneas Symplaegadas,
maed en napaisi Paeliou pedein pote
tmaetheisa peukae, maed eretm_osai cheras
andr_on ariste_on, oi to pagchryson deros
Pelia metaelthon ou gar an despoin emae
Maedeia pyrgous gaes epleus I_olkias k.t.l.]]

[Footnote 3: For Scrope Berdmore Davies, see page 165 [Letter 86], [Foot]note 2.]

[Footnote 4: "The Cocoa Tree," now 64, St. James's Street, formerly in Pall Mall, was, in the reign of Queen Anne, the Tory Chocolate House. It became a club about 1745, and was then regarded as the headquarters of the Jacobites. Probably for this reason Gibbon, whose father professed Jacobite opinions, belonged to it on coming to live in London (see his journal for November, 1762, and his letter to his stepmother, January 18, 1766: "The Cocoa Tree serves now and then to take off an idle hour"). Byron was a member.]

[Footnote 5: Hodgson's 'Sir Edgar' was published in 1810.]

[Footnote 6: Alluding to his having swum across the Thames with Henry Drury, after the Montem, to see how many times they could make the passage backwards and forwards without touching land. In this trial Byron was the conqueror.]

141.--To his Mother.

Constantinople, June 28, 1810.

My dear Mother,--I regret to perceive by your last letter that several
of mine have not arrived, particularly a very long one written in
November last from Albania, where I was on a visit to the Pacha of
that province. Fletcher has also written to his spouse perpetually.

Mr. Hobhouse, who will forward or deliver this, and is on his return
to England, can inform you of our different movements, but I am very
uncertain as to my own return. He will probably be down in Notts, some
time or other; but Fletcher, whom I send back as an incumbrance
(English servants are sad travellers), will supply his place in the
interim, and describe our travels, which have been tolerably
extensive.

I have written twice briefly from this capital, from Smyrna, from
Athens and other parts of Greece; from Albania, the Pacha of which
province desired his respects to my mother, and said he was sure I was
a man of high birth because I had small ears, curling hair, and white
hands!!! He was very kind to me, begged me to consider him as a
father, and gave me a guard of forty soldiers through the forests of
Acarnania. But of this and other circumstances I have written to you
at large, and yet hope you will receive my letters.

I remember Mahmout Pacha, the grandson of Ali Pacha, at Yanina, (a
little fellow of ten years of age, with large black eyes, which our
ladies would purchase at any price, and those regular features which
distinguish the Turks,) asked me how I came to travel so young,
without anybody to take care of me. This question was put by the
little man with all the gravity of threescore. I cannot now write
copiously; I have only time to tell you that I have passed many a
fatiguing, but never a tedious moment; and all that I am afraid of is
that I shall contract a gypsy like wandering disposition, which will
make home tiresome to me: this, I am told, is very common with men in
the habit of peregrination, and, indeed, I feel it so. On the 3rd of
May I swam from _Sestos_ to _Abydos_. You know the story of Leander,
but I had no _Hero_ to receive me at landing.

I also passed a fortnight on the Troad. The tombs of Achilles and
Æsyetes still exist in large barrows, similar to those you have
doubtless seen in the North. The other day I was at Belgrade (a
village in these environs), to see the house built on the same site as
Lady Mary Wortley's.[1] By-the-by, her ladyship, as far as I can
judge, has lied, but not half so much as any other woman would have
done in the same situation.

I have been in all the principal mosques by the virtue of a firman:
this is a favor rarely permitted to Infidels, but the ambassador's
departure obtained it for us. I have been up the Bosphorus into the
Black Sea, round the walls of the city, and, indeed, I know more of it
by sight than I do of London. I hope to amuse you some winter's
evening with the details, but at present you must excuse me;--I am not
able to write long letters in June. I return to spend my summer in
Greece. I write often, but you must not be alarmed when you do not
receive my letters; consider we have no regular post farther than
Malta, where I beg you will in future send your letters, and not to
this city.

Fletcher is a poor creature, and requires comforts that I can dispense
with. He is very sick of his travels, but you must not believe his
account of the country. He sighs for ale, and idleness, and a wife,
and the devil knows what besides. I have not been disappointed or
disgusted. I have lived with the highest and the lowest. I have been
for days in a Pacha's palace, and have passed many a night in a
cowhouse, and I find the people inoffensive and kind. I have also
passed some time with the principal Greeks in the Morea and Livadia,
and, though inferior to the Turks, they are better than the Spaniards,
who, in their turn, excel the Portuguese. Of Constantinople you will
find many descriptions in different travels; but Lady Mary Wortley
errs strangely when she says, "St. Paul's would cut a strange figure
by St. Sophia's." [2] I have been in both, surveyed them inside and
out attentively. St. Sophia's is undoubtedly the most interesting from
its immense antiquity, and the circumstance of all the Greek emperors,
from Justinian, having been crowned there, and several murdered at the
altar, besides the Turkish Sultans who attend it regularly. But it is
inferior in beauty and size to some of the mosques, particularly
"Soleyman," etc., and not to be mentioned in the same page with St.
Paul's (I speak like a _Cockney_). However, I prefer the Gothic
cathedral of Seville to St. Paul's, St. Sophia's, and any religious
building I have ever seen.

The walls of the Seraglio are like the walls of Newstead gardens, only
higher, and much in the same _order_; but the ride by the walls of the
city, on the land side, is beautiful. Imagine four miles of immense
triple battlements, covered with ivy, surmounted with 218 towers, and,
on the other side of the road, Turkish burying-grounds (the loveliest
spots on earth), full of enormous cypresses. I have seen the ruins of
Athens, of Ephesus, and Delphi. I have traversed great part of Turkey,
and many other parts of Europe, and some of Asia; but I never beheld a
work of nature or art which yielded an impression like the prospect on
each side from the Seven Towers to the end of the Golden Horn. [3]

Now for England. I am glad to hear of the progress of 'English Bards',
etc. Of course, you observed I have made great additions to the new
edition. Have you received my picture from Sanders, Vigo Lane, London?
It was finished and paid for long before I left England: pray, send
for it. You seem to be a mighty reader of magazines: where do you pick
up all this intelligence, quotations, etc., etc.? Though I was happy
to obtain my seat without the assistance of Lord Carlisle, I had no
measures to keep with a man who declined interfering as my relation on
that occasion, and I have done with him, though I regret distressing
Mrs. Leigh, [4] poor thing!--I hope she is happy.

It is my opinion that Mr. B----ought to marry Miss R----. Our first
duty is not to do evil; but, alas! that is impossible: our next is to
repair it, if in our power. The girl is his equal: if she were his
inferior, a sum of money and provision for the child would be some,
though a poor, compensation: as it is, he should marry her. I will
have no gay deceivers on my estate, and I shall not allow my tenants a
privilege I do not permit myself--_that_ of debauching each other's
daughters. God knows, I have been guilty of many excesses; but, as I
have laid down a resolution to reform, and lately kept it, I expect
this Lothario to follow the example, and begin by restoring this girl
to society, or, by the beard of my father! he shall hear of it. Pray
take some notice of Robert, who will miss his master; poor boy, he was
very unwilling to return. I trust you are well and happy. It will be a
pleasure to hear from you.

Believe me, yours very sincerely,

BYRON.

P.S.--How is Joe Murray?

P.S.--I open my letter again to tell you that Fletcher having
petitioned to accompany me into the Morea, I have taken him with me,
contrary to the intention expressed in my letter.

[Footnote 1: Alluding to his having swum across the Thames with Henry Drury, after the Montem, to see how many times they could make the passage backwards and forwards without touching land. In this trial Byron was the conqueror.]

[Footnote 2: Lady Mary describes the village of Belgrade in a letter to Pope, dated June 17, 1717 ('Letters', edit. 1893, vol. i. pp. 331-333). But Walsh ('Narrative of a Residence in Constantinople', vol. ii. 108, 109), who visited Belgrade in 1821, says that no trace of her description was then to be seen--no view of the Black Sea, no houses of the wealthy Christians, no fountains, and no fruit-trees. "The very tradition" of the house, which had disappeared before Dallaway visited Belgrade in 1794, had perished.]

[Footnote 3: Lady Mary does not compare St. Paul's with St. Sophia's, but with the mosque of the Valide,

"the largest of all, built entirely of marble, the most prodigious,
and, I think, the most beautiful structure I ever saw, be it spoken to
the honour of our sex, for it was founded by the mother of Mahomet IV.
Between friends, "St. Paul's Church would make a pitiful figure near
it"

('Letters', vol. i. p. 356).

[Footnote 4:

"The European with the Asian shore
Sprinkled with palaces; the ocean stream
Here and there studded with a seventy-four;
Sophia's cupola with golden gleam;
The cypress groves; Olympus high and hoar;
The twelve isles, and the more than I could dream,
Far less describe, present the very view
Which charm'd the charming Mary Montagu."

_Don Juan_, Canto V. stanza 3.]

[Footnote 5: For Mrs. Leigh, 'née' Augusta Byron, see page 18 [Letter 7], [Foot]note 1.]

142.--To his Mother.

Constantinople, July 1, 1810.

My dear Mother,--I have no wish to forget those who have any claim
upon me, and shall be glad of the good wishes of R----when he can
express them in person, which it seems will be at some very indefinite
date. I shall perhaps essay a speech or _two_ in the House when I
return, but I am not ambitious of a parliamentary career, which is of
all things the most degrading and unthankful. If I could by my own
efforts inculcate the truth, that a man is not intended for a despot
or a machine, but as an individual of a community, and fit for the
society of kings, so long as he does not trespass on the laws or rebel
against just governments, I might attempt to found a new Utopia; but
as matters are at present, in course you will not expect me to
sacrifice my health or self to your or anyone's ambition.

To quit this new idea for something you will understand better, how
are Miss R's, the W's, and Mr. R's blue bastards? for I suppose he
will not deny their _authorship_, which was, to say the least,
imprudent and immoral. Poor Miss----: if he does not marry, and marry
her speedily, he shall be no tenant of mine from the day that I set
foot on English shores.

I am glad you have received my portrait from Sanders. It does not
_flatter_ me, I think, but the subject is a bad one, and I must even
do as Fletcher does over his Greek wines--make a face and hope for
better. What you told me of----is not _true_, which I regret for
your sake and your gossip-seeking neighbours, whom present with my
good wishes, and believe me,

Yours, etc.,

BYRON.

143.--To Francis Hodgson.

Constantinople, July 4, 1810.

My Dear Hodgson,--Twice have I written--once in answer to your last,
and a former letter when I arrived here in May. That I may have
nothing to reproach myself with, I will write once more--a very
superfluous task, seeing that Hobhouse is bound for your parts full of
talk and wonderment. My first letter went by an ambassadorial express;
my second by the _Black John_ lugger; my third will be conveyed by
Cam, the miscellanist.

I shall begin by telling you, having only told it you twice before,
that I swam from Sestos to Abydos. I do this that you may be impressed
with proper respect for me, the performer; for I plume myself on this
achievement more than I could possibly do on any kind of glory,
political, poetical, or rhetorical. Having told you this, I will tell
you nothing more, because it would be cruel to curtail Cam's
narrative, which, by-the-by, you must not believe till confirmed by
me, the eye-witness. I promise myself much pleasure from contradicting
the greatest part of it. He has been plaguily pleased by the
intelligence contained in your last to me respecting the reviews of
his hymns. I refreshed him with that paragraph immediately, together
with the tidings of my own third edition, which added to his
recreation. But then he has had a letter from a Lincoln's Inn Bencher,
full of praise of his harpings, and vituperation of the other
contributions to his _Missellingany_, which that sagacious person is
pleased to say must have been put in as FOILS (_horresco referens!_);
furthermore he adds that Cam "is a genuine pupil of Dryden,"
concluding with a comparison rather to the disadvantage of Pope.

I have written to Drury by Hobhouse; a letter is also from me on its
way to England intended for that matrimonial man. Before it is very
long, I hope we shall again be together; the moment I set out for
England you shall have intelligence, that we may meet as soon as
possible. Next week the frigate sails with Adair; I am for Greece,
Hobhouse for England. A year together on the 2nd July since we sailed
from Falmouth. I have known a hundred instances of men setting out in
couples, but not one of a similar return. Aberdeen's [1] party split;
several voyagers at present have done the same. I am confident that
twelve months of any given individual is perfect ipecacuanha.

The Russians and Turks are at it, [2] and the Sultan in person is soon
to head the army. The Captain Pasha cuts off heads every day, and a
Frenchman's ears; the last is a serious affair. By-the-by I like the
Pashas in general. Ali Pasha called me his son, desired his
compliments to my mother, and said he was sure I was a man of birth,
because I had "small ears and curling hair." He is Pasha of Albania
six hundred miles off, where I was in October--a fine portly person.
His grandson Mahmout, a little fellow ten years old, with large black
eyes as big as pigeon's eggs, and all the gravity of sixty, asked me
what I did travelling so young without a _Lala_ (tutor)?

Good night, dear H. I have crammed my paper, and crave your
indulgence. Write to me at Malta. I am, with all sincerity,

Yours affectionately,

BYRON.

[Footnote 1: George Hamilton Gordon, Earl of Aberdeen (1784-1860), afterwards Prime Minister (1852-55), succeeded his grandfather as fourth earl in 1801. Grandson of the purchaser of Mrs. Byron's old home of Gight, and writer of an article in the 'Edinburgh Review' (July, 1805) on Gell's 'Topography of Troy,' he has a place in 'English Bards, and Scotch Reviewers' (lines 508, 509). He also appears as "sullen Aberdeen," in a suppressed stanza of 'Childe Harold', Canto II., which in the MS. follows stanza xiii., among those who

"----pilfer all the Pilgrim loves to see,
All that yet consecrates the fading scene."

After leaving Harrow, and before entering St. John's College, Cambridge, he spent two years (1801-3) in Greece. On his return he founded the Athenian Society, and became President of the Society of Antiquaries from 1812 to 1846. It may be added that he was Foreign Secretary when the Porte acknowledged the independence of Greece by the Treaty of Adrianople (1829).]

[Footnote 2: In this war, the scene of which lay chiefly in Wallachia, Bosnia, Bulgaria, and Servia, the main episodes were the two battles of Rustchuk (July 4 and October 14, 1811), the recapture of Silistria by the Russians, and the Convention of Giurgevo between the contending forces (October 28, 1811).]g

144.--To his Mother.

Athens, July 25, 1810.

Dear Mother,--I have arrived here in four days from Constantinople,
which is considered as singularly quick, particularly for the season
of the year. I left Constantinople with Adair, at whose adieux of
leave I saw Sultan Mahmout, [1] and obtained a firman to visit the
mosques, of which I gave you a description in my last letter, now
voyaging to England in the _Salsette_ frigate, in which I visited the
plains of Troy and Constantinople. Your northern gentry can have no
conception of a Greek summer; which, however, is a perfect frost
compared with Malta and Gibraltar, where I reposed myself in the shade
last year, after a gentle gallop of four hundred miles, without
intermission, through Portugal and Spain. You see, by my date, that I
am at Athens again, a place which I think I prefer, upon the whole, to
any I have seen.

My next movement is to-morrow into the Morea, where I shall probably
remain a month or two, and then return to winter here, if I do not
change my plans, which, however, are very variable, as you may
suppose; but none of them verge to England.

The Marquis of Sligo, [2] my old fellow-collegian, is here, and wishes
to accompany me into the Morea. We shall go together for that purpose;
but I am woefully sick of travelling companions, after a year's
experience of Mr. Hobhouse, who is on his way to Great Britain. Lord
S. will afterwards pursue his way to the capital; and Lord B., having
seen all the wonders in that quarter, will let you know what he does
next, of which at present he is not quite certain. Malta is my
perpetual post-office, from which my letters are forwarded to all
parts of the habitable globe:--by the bye, I have now been in Asia,
Africa, and the east of Europe, and, indeed, made the most of my time,
without hurrying over the most interesting scenes of the ancient
world. Fletcher, after having been toasted and roasted, and baked, and
grilled, and eaten by all sorts of creeping things, begins to
philosophise, is grown a refined as well as a resigned character, and
promises at his return to become an ornament to his own parish, and a
very prominent person in the future family pedigree of the Fletchers,
who I take to be Goths by their accomplishments, Greeks by their
acuteness, and ancient Saxons by their appetite. He (Fletcher) begs
leave to send half-a-dozen sighs to Sally his spouse, and wonders
(though I do not) that his ill-written and worse spelt letters have
never come to hand; as for that matter, there is no great loss in
either of our letters, saving and except that I wish you to know we
are well, and warm enough at this present writing, God knows. You must
not expect long letters at present, for they are written with the
sweat of my brow, I assure you. It is rather singular that Mr. Hanson
has not written a syllable since my departure. Your letters I have
mostly received as well as others; from which I conjecture that the
man of law is either angry or busy.

I trust you like Newstead, and agree with your neighbours; but you
know _you_ are a _vixen_--is not that a dutiful appellation? Pray,
take care of my books and several boxes of papers in the hands of
Joseph; and pray leave me a few bottles of champagne to drink, for I
am very thirsty;--but I do not insist on the last article, without you
like it. I suppose you have your house full of silly women, prating
scandalous things. Have you ever received my picture in oil from
Sanders, London? It has been paid for these sixteen months: why do you
not get it? My suite, consisting of two Turks, two Greeks, a Lutheran,
and the nondescript, Fletcher, are making so much noise, that I am
glad to sign myself

Yours, etc., etc.,

BYRON.

[Footnote 1: On July 10, 1810, the British ambassador, Robert Adair, had his audience of Sultan Mahmoud II, and on the 14th the 'Salsette' set sail. She touched at the island of Zea to land Byron, who thence made his way to Athens.

It was in making war against Mahmoud II, the conqueror of Ali Pasha and the destroyer of the Janissaries, that Byron lost his life. The following description of the Sultan is given by Hobhouse ('Travels in Albania, etc.,' vol. ii. pp. 364, 365):--

"The chamber was small and dark, or rather illumined with a gloomy
artificial light, reflected from the ornaments of silver, pearls, and
other white brilliants, with which it is thickly studded on every side
and on the roof. The throne, which is supposed the richest in the
world, is like a four-posted bed, but of a dazzling splendour; the
lower part formed of burnished silver and pearls, and the canopy and
supporters encrusted with jewels. It is in an awkward position, being
in one corner of the room, and close to a fireplace.

"Sultan Mahmoud was placed in the middle of the throne, with his feet
upon the ground, which, notwithstanding the common form of squatting
upon the hams, seems the seat of ceremony. He was dressed in a robe of
yellow satin, with a broad border of the darkest sable; his dagger,
and an ornament on his breast, were covered with diamonds; the front
of his white and blue turban shone with a large treble sprig of
diamonds, which served as a buckle to a high, straight plume of
bird-of-paradise feathers. He, for the most part, kept a hand on each
knee, and neither moved his body nor head, but rolled his eyes from
side to side, without fixing them for an instant upon the ambassador
or any other person present. Occasionally he stroked and turned up his
beard, displaying a milk-white hand glittering with diamond rings. His
eyebrows, eyes, and beard, being of a glossy jet black, did not appear
natural, but added to that indescribable majesty which it would be
difficult for any but an Oriental sovereign to assume; his face was
pale, and regularly formed, except that his nose (contrary to the
usual form of that feature in the Ottoman princes) was slightly turned
up and pointed; his whole physiognomy was mild and benevolent, but
expressive and full of dignity. He appeared of a short and small
stature, and about thirty years old, which is somewhat more than his
actual age."

Byron, at the audience, claimed some precedence in the procession as a peer. On May 23, 1819, Moore sat at dinner next to Stratford Canning (afterwards Lord Stratford de Redcliffe), who

"gave a ludicrous account of Lord Byron's insisting upon taking
precedence of the 'corps diplomatique' in a procession at
Constantinople (when Canning was secretary), and upon Adair's refusing
it, limping, with as much swagger as he could muster, up the hall,
cocking a foreign military hat on his head. He found, however, he was
wrong, and wrote a very frank letter acknowledging it, and offering to
take his station anywhere"

('Journals, etc., of Thomas Moore', vol. ii. p. 313).

An incident of the voyage from Constantinople to Zea is mentioned by Moore ('Life', p. 110). Picking up a Turkish dagger on the deck, Byron looked at the blade, and then, before replacing it in the sheath, was overheard to say to himself, "I should like to know how a person feels after committing a murder." In 'Firmilian; a Spasmodic Tragedy' (scene ix.) the sentiment is parodied. Firmilian determines to murder his friend, in order to shriek "delirious at the taste of sin!" He had already blown up a church full of people; but--

"I must have
A more potential draught of guilt than this
With more of wormwood in it! ...
...
Courage, Firmilian! for the hour has come
When thou canst know atrocity indeed,
By smiting him that was thy dearest friend.
And think not that he dies a vulgar death--
'Tis poetry demands the sacrifice!"

And he hurls Haverillo from the summit of the Pillar of St. Simeon Stylites.

[Footnote 3: For Lord Sligo, see page 100 [Letter 51], [Foot]note 2 [4]. Lord Sligo was at Athens with a 12-gun brig and a crew of fifty men. At Athens, also, were Lady Hester Stanhope and Michael Bruce, on their way through European Turkey. As the party were passing the Piraeus, they saw a man jump from the mole-head into the sea. Lord Sligo, recognizing the bather as Byron, called to him to dress and join them. Thus began what Byron, in his Memoranda, speaks of as "the most delightful acquaintance which I formed in Greece." From Lord Sligo Moore heard the following stories:--

Weakened and thinned by his illness at Patras, Byron returned to Athens. There, standing one day before a looking-glass, he said to Lord Sligo, "How pale I look! I should like, I think, to die of a consumption." "Why of a consumption?" asked his friend. "Because then," he answered, "the women would all say, 'See that poor Byron--how interesting he looks in dying!'"

He often spoke of his mother to Lord Sligo, who thought that his feeling towards her was little short of aversion. "Some time or other," he said, "I will tell you why I feel thus towards her." A few days after, when they were bathing together in the Gulf of Lepanto, pointing to his naked leg and foot, he exclaimed,

"Look there! It is to her false delicacy at my birth I owe that
deformity; and yet as long as I can remember, she has never ceased to
taunt and reproach me with it. Even a few days before we parted, for
the last time, on my leaving England, she, in one of her fits of
passion, uttered an imprecation upon me, praying that I might prove as
ill formed in mind as I am in body!"

Relics of ancient art only appealed to Byron's imagination among their original and natural surroundings. For collections and collectors he had a contempt which, like everything he thought or felt, was unreservedly expressed. Lord Sligo wished to spend some money in digging for antiquities, and Byron offered to act as his agent, and to see the money honestly applied. "You may safely trust 'me'" he said; "I am no dilettante. Your connoisseurs are all thieves; but I care too little for these things ever to steal them."

His system of thinning himself, which he had begun before he left England, was continued abroad. While at Athens, where he stayed at the Franciscan Convent, he took a Turkish bath three times a week, his usual drink being vinegar and water, and his food seldom more than a little rice. The result was that, when he returned to England, he weighed only 9 stone 11-1/2 lbs. (see page 127 [Letter 71], [Foot]note 1).

Moore's account of the "cordial friendship" between Byron and Lady Hester Stanhope requires modification. Lady Hester (see page 302, note I) thus referred in after-life to her meeting with Byron, if her physician's recollection is to be trusted ('Memoirs', by Dr. Meryon, vol. iii. pp. 218, 219)--

"'I think he was a strange character: his generosity was for a motive,
his avarice for a motive; one time he was mopish, and nobody was to
speak to him; another, he was for being jocular with everybody. Then
he was a sort of Don Quixote, fighting with the police for a woman of
the town; and then he wanted to make himself something great ... At
Athens I saw nothing in him but a well-bred man, like many others;
for, as for poetry, it is easy enough to write verses; and as for the
thoughts, who knows where he got them? ... He had a great deal of vice
in his looks--his eyes set close together, and a contracted brow--so'
(imitating it). 'Oh, Lord! I am sure he was not a liberal man,
whatever else he might be. The only good thing about his looks was
this part' (drawing her hand under the cheek down the front of her
neck), 'and the curl on his forehead.'"

Michael Bruce, with the help of Sir Robert Wilson and Capt. Hutchinson, assisted Count Lavallette to escape from Paris in January, 1816. For an account, see Wilson's intercepted letter to Lord Grey ('Memoires du Comte Lavallette', vol. ii. p. 132) and the story of their trial, conviction, and sentence before the Assize Court of the Department of the Seine (April 22-24, 1816), given in the 'Annual Register' for 1816, pp. 329-336.]

145.--To his Mother.

Athens, July 27, 1810.

Dear Mother,--I write again in case you have not received my letters.
To-day I go into the Morea, which will, I trust, be colder than this
place, where I have tarried in the expectation of obtaining rest.
Sligo has very kindly proposed a union of our forces for the occasion,
which will be perhaps as uncomfortable to him as to myself, judging
from previous experience, which, however, may be explained by my own
irritability and hurry.

At Constantinople I visited the Mosques, plains, and grandees of that
place, which, in my opinion, cannot be compared with Athens and its
neighbourhood; indeed I know of no Turkish scenery to equal this,
which would be civilised and Celtic enough with a little alteration in
situation and inhabitants. An usual custom here, as at Cadiz, is to
part with wives, daughters, etc., for a trifling present of gold or
English arms (which the Greeks set a high value upon). The women are
generally of the middle height, with Turkish eyes, straight hair, and
clear olive complexion, but are not nearly so amorous as the Spanish
belles, whom I have described to you in former letters. I have some
feats to boast of when I return, which is undesired and undesirable--I
always except you from my complaints, and hope you will expect me with
the same delight that I anticipate meeting you. You can have no
conception of Lord S.'s ecstasy when I informed him of my probable
movements. The man is well enough and sensible enough by himself; but
the swarm of attendants, Turks, Greeks, Englishmen that he carries
with him, makes his society, or rather theirs, an intolerable
annoyance. If you will read this letter to----, you may imagine in
what capacity I believe you excel.

Before I left England I promised to give my silver-mounted whip (in
your chamber) to Charles. Present it to him, poor boy, for I should
not like him to suppose me as unfaithful as his _amante_, who, by the
way is no better than she should be, and no great loss to himself or
his family. Hobhouse is silent, and has, I suppose, not yet returned;
indeed, like myself, he appears to love the world better than England,
and the Devil more than either, who I regret is not present to be
informed of this. Do not fail, if you see him (Hobhouse, I mean), to
repeat it, and the assurance that I am to him, with yourself,

Ever affectionately,

BYRON.

146.--To his Mother.

Patras, July 30, 1810.

DEAR MADAM,--In four days from Constantinople, with a favourable wind,
I arrived in the frigate at the island of Teos, from whence I took a
boat to Athens, where I met my friend the Marquis of Sligo, who
expressed a wish to proceed with me as far as Corinth. At Corinth we
separated, he for Tripolitza, I for Patras, where I had some business
with the consul, Mr. Strané, in whose house I now write. He has
rendered me every service in his power since I quitted Malta on my way
to Constantinople, whence I have written to you twice or thrice. In a
few days I visit the Pacha[1] at Tripolitza, make the tour of the
Morea, and return again to Athens, which at present is my
head-quarters. The heat is at present intense. In England, if it
reaches 98° you are all on fire: the other day, in travelling between
Athens and Megara, the thermometer was at 125°!!! Yet I feel no
inconvenience; of course I am much bronzed, but I live temperately,
and never enjoyed better health.

Before I left Constantinople, I saw the Sultan (with Mr. Adair), and
the interior of the mosques, things which rarely happen to travellers.
Mr. Hobhouse is gone to England: I am in no hurry to return, but have
no particular communications for your country, except my surprise at
Mr. Hanson's silence, and my desire that he will remit regularly. I
suppose some arrangement has been made with regard to Wymondham and
Rochdale. Malta is my post-office, or to Mr. Strané, consul-general,
Patras, Morea. You complain of my silence--I have written twenty or
thirty times within the last year: never less than twice a month, and
often more. If my letters do not arrive, you must not conclude that we
are eaten, or that there is war, or a pestilence, or famine: neither
must you credit silly reports, which I dare say you have in Notts., as
usual. I am very well, and neither more nor less happy than I usually
am; except that I am very glad to be once more alone, for I was sick
of my companion,--not that he was a bad one, but because my nature
leads me to solitude, and that every day adds to this disposition. If
I chose, here are many men who would wish to join me--one wants me to
go to Egypt, another to Asia, of which I have seen enough. The greater
part of Greece is already my own, so that I shall only go over my old
ground, and look upon my old seas and mountains, the only
acquaintances I ever found improve upon me.

I have a tolerable suite, a Tartar, two Albanians, an interpreter,
besides Fletcher; but in this country these are easily maintained.
Adair received me wonderfully well, and indeed I have no complaints
against any one. Hospitality here is necessary, for inns are not. I
have lived in the houses of Greeks, Turks, Italians, and
English--to-day in a palace, to-morrow in a cow-house; this day with a
Pacha, the next with a shepherd. I shall continue to write briefly,
but frequently, and am glad to hear from you; but you fill your
letters with things from the papers, as if English papers were not
found all over the world. I have at this moment a dozen before me.
Pray take care of my books, and believe me, my dear mother,

Yours very faithfully,

BYRON.

[Footnote 1: For Veli Pasha, see page 248 [Letter 131], [Foot]note 1 [2].]

147.--To his Mother.

Patras, October 2, 1810.

DEAR MADAM,--It is now several months since I have received any
communication from you; but at this I am not surprised, nor indeed
have I any complaint to make, since you have written frequently, for
which I thank you; but I very much condemn Mr. Hanson, who has not
taken the smallest notice of my many letters, nor of my request before
I left England, which I sailed from on this very day _fifteen_ months
ago. Thus one year and a quarter have passed away, without my
receiving the least intelligence on the state of my affairs, and they
were not in a posture to admit of neglect; and I do conceive and
declare that Mr. Hanson has acted negligently and culpably in not
apprising me of his proceedings; I will also add uncivilly. His
letters, were there any, could not easily miscarry; the communications
with the Levant are slow, but tolerably secure, at least as far as
Malta, and there I left directions which I know would be observed.

I have written to you several times from Constantinople and Smyrna.
You will perceive by my date I am returned into the Morea,[1] of which
I have been making the tour, and visiting the Pacha, who gave me a
fine horse, and paid me all possible honours and attention. I have now
seen a good portion of Turkey in Europe, and Asia Minor, and shall
remain at Athens, and in the vicinity, till I hear from England.

I have punctually obeyed your injunctions of writing frequently, but I
shall not pretend to describe countries which have been already amply
treated of. I believe before this time Mr. Hobhouse will have arrived
in England, and he brings letters from me, written at Constantinople.
In these I mention having seen the Sultan and the mosques, and that I
swam from Sestos to Abydos, an exploit of which I take care to boast.

I am here on business at present, but Athens is my head-quarters,
where I am very pleasantly situated in a Franciscan convent. Believe
me to be, with great sincerity, yours very affectionately,

BYRON.

P.S.--Fletcher is well, and discontented as usual; his wife don't
write, at least her scrawls have not arrived. You will address to
Malta. Pray have you never received my picture in oil from Sanders,
Vigo Lane, London?

[Footnote 1: In a note upon the Advertisement prefixed to his 'Siege of Corinth', Byron says,

"I visited all three (Tripolitza, Napoli, and Argos) in 1810-11, and,
in the course of journeying through the country, from my first arrival
in 1809, I crossed the Isthmus eight times in my way from Attica to
the Morea, over the mountains, or in the other direction, when passing
from the Gulf of Athens to that of Lepanto."]

148.--To Francis Hodgson.

Patras, Morea, October 3, 1810.

As I have just escaped from a physician and a fever, which confined me
five days to bed, you won't expect much _allegrezza_ in the ensuing
letter. In this place there is an indigenous distemper, which when the
wind blows from the Gulf of Corinth (as it does five months out of
six), attacks great and small, and makes woful work with visiters.
Here be also two physicians, one of whom trusts to his genius (never
having studied)--the other to a campaign of eighteen months against
the sick of Otranto, which he made in his youth with great effect.

When I was seized with my disorder, I protested against both these
assassins;--but what can a helpless, feverish, toast-and-watered poor
wretch do? In spite of my teeth and tongue, the English consul, my
Tartar, Albanians, dragoman, forced a physician upon me, and in three
days vomited and glystered me to the last gasp. In this state I made
my epitaph--take it:--

Youth, Nature, and relenting Jove,
To keep my lamp _in_ strongly strove:
But Romanelli was so stout,
He beat all three--and _blew_ it _out_.

But Nature and Jove, being piqued at my doubts, did, in fact, at last,
beat Romanelli, and here I am, well but weakly, at your service.

Since I left Constantinople, I have made a tour of the Morea, and
visited Veley Pacha, who paid me great honours, and gave me a pretty
stallion. H. is doubtless in England before even the date of this
letter:--he bears a despatch from me to your bardship. He writes to me
from Malta, and requests my journal, if I keep one. I have none, or he
should have it; but I have replied in a consolatory and exhortatory
epistle, praying him to abate three and sixpence in the price of his
next boke, seeing that half a guinea is a price not to be given for
any thing save an opera ticket.

As for England, it is long since I have heard from it. Every one at
all connected with my concerns is asleep, and you are my only
correspondent, agents excepted. I have really no friends in the world;
though all my old school companions are gone forth into that world,
and walk about there in monstrous disguises, in the garb of guardsmen,
lawyers, parsons, fine gentlemen, and such other masquerade dresses.
So, I here shake hands and cut with all these busy people, none of
whom write to me. Indeed I ask it not;--and here I am, a poor
traveller and heathenish philosopher, who hath perambulated the
greatest part of the Levant, and seen a great quantity of very
improvable land and sea, and, after all, am no better than when I set
out--Lord help me!

I have been out fifteen months this very day, and I believe my
concerns will draw me to England soon; but of this I will apprise you
regularly from Malta. On all points Hobhouse will inform you, if you
are curious as to our adventures. [1] I have seen some old English
papers up to the 15th of May. I see the _Lady of the Lake_[2]
advertised. Of course it is in his old ballad style, and pretty. After
all, Scott is the best of them. The end of all scribblement is to
amuse, and he certainly succeeds there. I long to read his new
romance.

And how does _Sir Edgar_? and your friend Bland? I suppose you are
involved in some literary squabble. The only way is to despise all
brothers of the quill. I suppose you won't allow me to be an author,
but I contemn you all, you dogs!--I do.

You don't know Dallas, do you? He had a farce [3] ready for the stage
before I left England, and asked me for a prologue, which I promised,
but sailed in such a hurry I never penned a couplet. I am afraid to
ask after his drama, for fear it should be damned--Lord forgive me for
using such a word! but the pit, Sir, you know the pit--they will do
those things in spite of merit. I remember this farce from a curious
circumstance. When Drury Lane [4] was burnt to the ground, by which
accident Sheridan and his son lost the few remaining shillings they
were worth, what doth my friend Dallas do? Why, before the fire was
out, he writes a note to Tom Sheridan, [5] the manager of this
combustible concern, to inquire whether this farce was not converted
into fuel with about two thousand other unactable manuscripts, which
of course were in great peril, if not actually consumed. Now was not
this characteristic?--the ruling passions of Pope are nothing to it.
Whilst the poor distracted manager was bewailing the loss of a
building only worth £300,000., together with some twenty thousand
pounds of rags and tinsel in the tiring rooms, Bluebeard's elephants,
[6] and all that--in comes a note from a scorching author, requiring
at his hands two acts and odd scenes of a farce!!

Dear H., remind Drury that I am his well-wisher, and let Scrope Davies
be well affected towards me. I look forward to meeting you at
Newstead, and renewing our old champagne evenings with all the glee of
anticipation. I have written by every opportunity, and expect
responses as regular as those of the liturgy, and somewhat longer. As
it is impossible for a man in his senses to hope for happy days, let
us at least look forward to merry ones, which come nearest to the
other in appearance, if not in reality; and in such expectations I
remain, etc.

[Footnote 1: Hobhouse, writing to Byron from Malta, July 31, 1810, says,

"Mrs. Bruce picked out a pretty picture of a woman in a fashionable
dress in Ackerman's 'Repository', and observed it was vastly like Lord
Byron. I give you warning of this, for fear you should make another
conquest and return to England without a curl upon your head. Surely
the ladies copy Delilah when they crop their lovers after this fashion.

'Successful youth! why mourn thy ravish'd hair,
Since each lost lock bespeaks a conquer'd fair,
And young and old conspire to make thee bare?'

This makes me think of my poor 'Miscellany', which is quite dead, if
indeed that can be said to be dead which was never alive; not a soul
knows, or knowing will speak of it." Again, July 15, 1811, he writes:
"The 'Miscellany' is so damned that my friends make it a point of
politeness not to mention it ever to me."]

[Footnote 2: 'The Lady of the Lake' was published in May, 1810.]

[Footnote 3: For Dallas, see page 168 [Letter 87], [Foot]note 1. His farce, entitled, 'Not at Home', was acted at the Lyceum, by the Drury Lane Company, in November, 1809. It was afterwards printed, with a prologue (intended to have been spoken) written by Walter Rodwell Wright, author of 'Horae Ionicae'.]

[Footnote 4: Drury Lane Theatre, burned down in 1791, and reopened in 1794, was again destroyed by fire on February 24, 1809.]