Proceed from Keratea to Cape Colonna--Associations connected with the
Spot--Second-hearing of the Albanians--Journey to Marathon--Effect of
his Adventures on the Mind of the Poet--Return to Athens--I join the
Travellers there--Maid of Athens
From Keratea the travellers proceeded to Cape Colonna, by the way of
Katapheke. The road was wild and rude, but the distant view of the
ruins of the temple of Minerva, standing on the loneliness of the
promontory, would have repaid them for the trouble, had the road been
even rougher.
This once elegant edifice was of the Doric order, a hexastyle, the
columns twenty-seven feet in height. It was built entirely of white
marble, and esteemed one of the finest specimens of architecture.
The rocks on which the remains stand are celebrated alike by the
English and the Grecian muses; for it was amid them that Falconer
laid the scene of his Shipwreck; and the unequalled description of
the climate of Greece, in The Giaour, was probably inspired there,
although the poem was written in London. It was also here, but not
on this occasion, that the poet first became acquainted with the
Albanian belief in second-hearing, to which he alludes in the same
poem:
Deep in whose darkly-boding ear
The death-shot peal'd of murder near.
"This superstition of a second-hearing," says Lord Byron, "fell once
under my own observation. On my third journey to Cape Colonna, as we
passed through the defile that leads from the hamlet between Keratea
and Colonna, I observed Dervish Tahiri (one of his Albanian servants)
riding rather out of the path, and leaning his head upon his hand as
if in pain. I rode up and inquired. 'We are in peril!' he answered.
'What peril? we are not now in Albania, nor in the passes to Ephesus,
Missolonghi, or Lepanto; there are plenty of us well armed, and the
Choriotes have not courage to be thieves.'--'True, Affendi; but,
nevertheless, the shot is ringing in my ears.'--'The shot! not a
tophaike has been fired this morning.'--'I hear it, notwithstanding--
bom--bom--as plainly as I hear your voice.'--'Bah.'--'As you please,
Affendi; if it is written, so will it be.'
"I left this quick-eared predestinarian, and rode up to Basili, his
Christian compatriot, whose ears, though not at all prophetic, by no
means relished the intelligence. We all arrived at Colonna, remained
some hours, and returned leisurely, saying a variety of brilliant
things, in more languages than spoiled the building of Babel, upon
the mistaken seer; Romaic, Arnaout, Turkish, Italian, and English
were all exercised, in various conceits, upon the unfortunate
Mussulman. While we were contemplating the beautiful prospect,
Dervish was occupied about the columns. I thought he was deranged
into an antiquarian, and asked him if he had become a palaocastro
man. 'No,' said he, 'but these pillars will be useful in making a
stand' and added some remarks, which at least evinced his own belief
in his troublesome faculty of fore-hearing.
"On our return to Athens we heard from Leone (a prisoner set on shore
some days after) of the intended attack of the Mainotes, with the
cause of its not taking place. I was at some pains to question the
man, and he described the dresses, arms, and marks of the horses of
our party so accurately, that, with other circumstances, we could not
doubt of his having been in 'villainous company,' and ourselves in a
bad neighbourhood. Dervish became a soothsayer for life, and I dare
say is now hearing more musketry than ever will be fired, to the
great refreshment of the Arnaouts of Berat and his native mountains.
"In all Attica, if we except Athens itself, and Marathon," Byron
remarks, "there is no scene more interesting than Cape Colonna. To
the antiquary and artist, sixteen columns are an inexhaustible source
of observation and design; to the philosopher the supposed scene of
some of Plato's conversations will not be unwelcome; and the
traveller will be struck with the prospect over 'Isles that crown the
AEgean deep.' But, for an Englishman, Colonna has yet an additional
interest in being the actual spot of Falconer's Shipwreck. Pallas
and Plato are forgotten in the recollection of Falconer and Campbell.
"There, in the dead of night, by Donna's steep,
The seamen's cry was heard along the deep."
From the ruins of the temple the travellers returned to Keratea, by
the eastern coast of Attica, passing through that district of country
where the silver mines are situated; which, according to Sir George
Wheler, were worked with some success about a hundred and fifty years
ago. They then set out for Marathon, taking Rapthi in their way;
where, in the lesser port, on a steep rocky island, they beheld, from
a distance, the remains of a colossal statue. They did not, however,
actually inspect it, but it has been visited by other travellers, who
have described it to be of white marble, sedent on a pedestal. The
head and arms are broken off; but when entire, it is conjectured to
have been twelve feet in height. As they were passing round the
shore they heard the barking of dogs, and a shout from a shepherd,
and on looking round saw a large dun-coloured wolf, galloping slowly
through the bushes.
Such incidents and circumstances, in the midst of the most romantic
scenery of the world, with wild and lawless companions, and a
constant sense of danger, were full of poetry, and undoubtedly
contributed to the formation of the peculiar taste of Byron's genius.
As it has been said of Salvator Rosa, the painter, that he derived
the characteristic savage force of his pencil from his youthful
adventures with banditti; it may be added of Byron, that much of his
most distinguished power was the result of his adventures as a
traveller in Greece. His mind and memory were filled with stores of
the fittest imagery, to supply becoming backgrounds and appendages,
to the characters and enterprises which he afterward depicted with
such truth of nature and poetical effect.
After leaving Rapthi, keeping Mount Pentilicus on the left, the
travellers came in sight of the ever-celebrated Plain of Marathon.
The evening being advanced, they passed the barrow of the Athenian
slain unnoticed, but next morning they examined minutely the field of
battle, and fancied they had made antiquarian discoveries. In their
return to Athens they inspected the different objects of research and
fragments of antiquity, which still attract travellers, and with the
help of Chandler and Pausanias, endeavoured to determine the local
habitation and the name of many things, of which the traditions have
perished and the forms have relapsed into rock.
Soon after their arrival at Athens, Mr Hobhouse left Lord Byron to
visit the Negropont, where he was absent some few days. I think he
had only been back three or four when I arrived from Zante. My visit
to Athens at that period was accidental. I had left Malta with the
intention of proceeding to Candia, by Specia, and Idra; but a
dreadful storm drove us up the Adriatic, as far as Valona; and in
returning, being becalmed off the Island of Zante, I landed there,
and allowed the ship, with my luggage, to proceed to her destination,
having been advised to go on by the Gulf of Corinth to Athens; from
which place, I was informed, there would be no difficulty in
recovering my trunks.
In carrying this arrangement into effect, I was induced to go aside
from the direct route, and to visit Velhi Pasha, at Tripolizza, to
whom I had letters. Returning by Argos and Corinth, I crossed the
isthmus, and taking the road by Megara, reached Athens on the 20th of
February. In the course of this journey, I heard of two English
travellers being in the city; and on reaching the convent of the
Propaganda, where I had been advised to take up my lodgings, the
friar in charge of the house informed me of their names. Next
morning, Mr Hobhouse, having heard of my arrival, kindly called on
me, and I accompanied him to Lord Byron, who then lodged with the
widow of a Greek, who had been British Consul. She was, I believe, a
respectable person, with several daughters; one of whom has been
rendered more famous by his Lordship's verses than her degree of
beauty deserved. She was a pale and pensive-looking girl, with
regular Grecian features. Whether he really cherished any sincere
attachment to her I much doubt. I believe his passion was equally
innocent and poetical, though he spoke of buying her from her mother.
It was to this damsel that he addressed the stanzas beginning,
Maid of Athens, ere we part,
Give, oh! give me back my heart.