Dispute with the Ambassador--Reflections on Byron's Pride of Rank--
Abandons his Oriental Travels--Re-embarks in the "Salsette"--The
Dagger Scene--Zea--Returns to Athens--Tour in the Morea--Dangerous
Illness--Return to Athens--The Adventure on which "The Giaour" is
founded
Although Lord Byron remained two months in Constantinople, and
visited every object of interest and curiosity within and around it,
he yet brought away with him fewer poetical impressions than from any
other part of the Ottoman dominions; at least he has made less use in
his works of what he saw and learned there, than of the materials he
collected in other places.
From whatever cause it arose, the self-abstraction which I had
noticed at Smyrna, was remarked about him while he was in the
capital, and the same jealousy of his rank was so nervously awake,
that it led him to attempt an obtrusion on the ambassadorial
etiquettes--which he probably regretted.
It has grown into a custom, at Constantinople, when the foreign
ministers are admitted to audiences of ceremony with the Sultan, to
allow the subjects and travellers of their respective nations to
accompany them, both to swell the pomp of the spectacle, and to
gratify their curiosity. Mr Adair, our ambassador, for whom the
Salsette had been sent, had his audience of leave appointed soon
after Lord Byron's arrival, and his Lordship was particularly anxious
to occupy a station of distinction in the procession. The pretension
was ridiculous in itself, and showed less acquaintance with courtly
ceremonies than might have been expected in a person of his rank and
intelligence. Mr Adair assured him that he could obtain no
particular place; that in the arrangements for the ceremonial, only
the persons connected with the embassy could be considered, and that
the Turks neither acknowledged the precedence, nor could be requested
to consider the distinctions of our nobility. Byron, however, still
persisted, and the minister was obliged to refer him on the subject
to the Austrian Internuncio, a high authority in questions of
etiquette, whose opinion was decidedly against the pretension.
The pride of rank was indeed one of the greatest weaknesses of Lord
Byron, and everything, even of the most accidental kind, which seemed
to come between the wind and his nobility, was repelled on the spot.
I recollect having some debate with him once respecting a pique of
etiquette, which happened between him and Sir William Drummond,
somewhere in Portugal or Spain. Sir William was at the time an
ambassador (not, however, I believe, in the country where the
incident occurred), and was on the point of taking precedence in
passing from one room to another, when Byron stepped in before him.
The action was undoubtedly rude on the part of his Lordship, even
though Sir William had presumed too far on his riband: to me it
seemed also wrong; for, by the custom of all nations from time
immemorial, ambassadors have been allowed their official rank in
passing through foreign countries, while peers in the same
circumstances claim no rank at all; even in our own colonies it has
been doubted if they may take precedence of the legislative
counsellors. But the rights of rank are best determined by the
heralds, and I have only to remark, that it is almost inconceivable
that such things should have so morbidly affected the sensibility of
Lord Byron; yet they certainly did so, and even to a ridiculous
degree. On one occasion, when he lodged in St James's Street, I
recollect him rating the footman for using a double knock in
accidental thoughtlessness.
These little infirmities are, however, at most only calculated to
excite a smile; there is no turpitude in them, and they merit notice
but as indications of the humour of character. It was his Lordship's
foible to overrate his rank, to grudge his deformity beyond reason,
and to exaggerate the condition of his family and circumstances. But
the alloy of such small vanities, his caprice and feline temper, were
as vapour compared with the mass of rich and rare ore which
constituted the orb and nucleus of his brilliancy.
He had not been long in Constantinople, when a change came over his
intentions; the journey to Persia was abandoned, and the dreams of
India were dissolved. The particular causes which produced this
change are not very apparent--but Mr Hobhouse was at the same time
directed to return home, and perhaps that circumstance had some
influence on his decision, which he communicated to his mother,
informing her, that he should probably return to Greece. As in that
letter he alludes to his embarrassment on account of remittances, it
is probable that the neglect of his agent, with respect to them, was
the main cause which induced him to determine on going no farther.
Accordingly, on the 14th of July, he embarked with Mr Hobhouse and
the ambassador on board the Salsette. It was in the course of the
passage to the island of Zea, where he was put on shore, that one of
the most emphatic incidents of his life occurred; an incident which
throws a remarkable gleam into the springs and intricacies of his
character--more, perhaps, than anything which has yet been mentioned.
One day, as he was walking the quarter-deck, he lifted an ataghan (it
might be one of the midshipmen's weapons), and unsheathing it, said,
contemplating the blade, "I should like to know how a person feels
after committing murder." By those who have inquiringly noticed the
extraordinary cast of his metaphysical associations, this dagger-
scene must be regarded as both impressive and solemn; although the
wish to know how a man felt after committing murder does not imply
any desire to perpetrate the crime. The feeling might be appreciated
by experiencing any actual degree of guilt; for it is not the deed--
the sentiment which follows it makes the horror. But it is doing
injustice to suppose the expression of such a wish dictated by
desire. Lord Byron has been heard to express, in the eccentricity of
conversation, wishes for a more intense knowledge of remorse than
murder itself could give. There is, however, a wide and wild
difference between the curiosity that prompts the wish to know the
exactitude of any feeling or idea, and the direful passions that
instigate to guilty gratifications.
Being landed, according to his request, with his valet, two
Albanians, and a Tartar, on the shore of Zea, it may be easily
conceived that he saw the ship depart with a feeling before unfelt.
It was the first time he was left companionless, and the scene around
was calculated to nourish stern fancies, even though there was not
much of suffering to be withstood.
The landing-place in the port of Zea, I recollect distinctly. The
port itself is a small land-locked gulf, or, as the Scottish
Highlander would call it, a loch. The banks are rocky and
forbidding; the hills, which rise to the altitude of mountains, have,
in a long course of ages, been always inhabited by a civilized
people. Their precipitous sides are formed into innumerable
artificial terraces, the aspect of which, austere, ruinous, and
ancient, produces on the mind of the stranger a sense of the presence
of a greater antiquity than the sight of monuments of mere labour and
art. The town stands high upon the mountain, I counted on the lower
side of the road which leads to it forty-nine of those terraces at
one place under me, and on the opposite hills, in several places,
upwards of sixty. Whether Lord Byron ascended to the town is
doubtful. I have never heard him mention that he had; and I am
inclined to think that he proceeded at once to Athens by one of the
boats which frequent the harbour.
At Athens he met an old fellow-collegian, the Marquis of Sligo, with
whom he soon after travelled as far as Corinth; the Marquis turning
off there for Tripolizza, while Byron went forward to Patras, where
he had some needful business to transact with the consul. He then
made the tour of the Morea, in the course of which he visited the
Vizier Velhi Pasha, by whom he was treated, as every other English
traveller of the time was, with great distinction and hospitality.
Having occasion to go back to Patras, he was seized by the local
fever there, and reduced to death's door. On his recovery he
returned to Athens, where he found the Marquis, with Lady Hester
Stanhope, and Mr Bruce, afterward so celebrated for his adventures in
assisting the escape of the French General Lavalette. He took
possession of the apartments which I had occupied in the monastery,
and made them his home during the remainder of his residence in
Greece; but when I returned to Athens, in October, he was not there
himself. I found, however, his valet, Fletcher, in possession.
There is no very clear account of the manner in which Lord Byron
employed himself after his return to Athens; but various intimations
in his correspondence show that during the winter his pen was not
idle. It would, however, be to neglect an important occurrence, not
to notice that during the time when he was at Athens alone, the
incident which he afterwards embodied in the impassioned fragments of
The Giaour came to pass; and to apprise the reader that the story is
founded on an adventure which happened to himself--he was, in fact,
the cause of the girl being condemned, and ordered to be sewn up in a
sack and thrown into the sea.
One day, as he was returning from bathing in the Piraeus, he met the
procession going down to the shore to execute the sentence which the
Waywode had pronounced on the girl; and learning the object of the
ceremony, and who was the victim, he immediately interfered with
great resolution; for, on observing some hesitation on the part of
the leader of the escort to return with him to the Governor's house,
he drew a pistol and threatened to shoot him on the spot. The man
then turned about, and accompanied him back, when, partly by bribery
and entreaty, he succeeded in obtaining a pardon for her, on
condition that she was sent immediately out of the city. Byron
conveyed her to the monastery, and on the same night sent her off to
Thebes, where she found a safe asylum.
With this affair, I may close his adventures in Greece; for, although
he remained several months subsequent at Athens, he was in a great
measure stationary. His health, which was never robust, was impaired
by the effects of the fever, which lingered about him; perhaps, too,
by the humiliating anxiety he suffered on account of the uncertainty
in his remittances. But however this may have been, it was fortunate
for his fame that he returned to England at the period he did, for
the climate of the Mediterranean was detrimental to his constitution.
The heat oppressed him so much as to be positive suffering, and
scarcely had he reached Malta on his way home, when he was visited
again with a tertian ague.