The Life of Lord Byron
Chapter XVII
CHAPTER XVII.
Athena.—Byron’s character of the modern
Athenians.—Visit to Eleusis:—Visit to the caverns at Vary and
Keratéa.—Lost in the labyrinths of the latter.
It has been justly remarked, that were there no other vestiges of
the ancient world in existence than those to be seen at Athens, they are still sufficient of
themselves to justify the admiration entertained for the genius of Greece. It is not, however,
so much on account of their magnificence as of their exquisite beauty, that the fragments
obtain such idolatrous homage from the pilgrims to the shattered shrines of antiquity. But
Lord Byron had no feeling for art, perhaps it would be
more correct to say he affected none: still, Athens was to him a text, a theme; and when the
first rush of curiosity has been satisfied, where else can the palled fancy find such a topic.
To the mere antiquary, this celebrated city cannot but long continue
interesting, and to the classic enthusiast, just liberated from the cloisters of his college,
the scenery and the ruins may for a season inspire delight. Philosophy may there point her
moral apophthegms with stronger emphasis, virtue receive new incitements to perseverance, by
reflecting on the honour which still attends the memory of the ancient great, and patriotism
there more pathetically deplore the inevitable effects of individual corruption on public
glory; but to the man who seeks a solace from misfortune, or is
“aweary of the sun;” how wretched, how solitary, how empty is Athens!
Yet to the remnants of thy splendour past
Shall pilgrims, pensive, but unwearied throng;
Long shall the voyager, with th’ Ionian blast,
Hail the bright clime of battle and of song;
Long shall thy annals and immortal tongue
Fill with thy fame the youth of many a shore;
Boast of the aged! lesson of the young!
Which sages venerate and bards adore,
As Pallas and the Muse unveil their awful lore!
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Of the existing race of Athenians Byron
has observed, that they are remarkable for their cunning: “Among the various
foreigners resident in Athens there was never a difference of opinion in their estimate of
the Greek character, though on all other topics they disputed with great acrimony.
M. Fauvel, the French consul, who has passed
thirty years at Athens, frequently declared in my hearing, that the Greeks do not deserve
to be emancipated, reasoning on the ground of their national and individual
depravity—while he forgot that such depravity is to be attributed to causes which can
only be removed by the measures he reprobates.
“M. Roque, a French merchant of respectability
long settled in Athens, asserted with the most amusing gravity, ‘Sir, they are the
same canaille that existed in the days of Themistocles.’ The ancients banished Themistocles; the
moderns cheat Monsieur Roque: thus great men have ever been treated.
“In short, all the Franks who are fixtures, and most of the Englishmen, Germans,
Danes, &c., of passage, came over by degrees to their opinion, on much the same grounds
that a Turk in England would condemn the nation by wholesale, because he was wronged by his
lackey and overcharged by his washerwoman.
Certainly, it was not a
little staggering when the Sieurs Fauvel and
Lusieri, the two greatest demagogues of the day,
who divide between them the power of Pericles and the
popularity of Cleon, and puzzle the poor Waywode with
perpetual differences, agreed in the utter condemnation of the Greeks in general, and of
the Athenians in particular.”
I have quoted his Lordship thus particularly because after his arrival at
Athens he laid down his pen. Childe Harold there
disappears. Whether he had written the pilgrimage up to that point at Athens I have not been
able to ascertain; while I am inclined to think it was so, as I recollect he told me there that
he had then described or was describing the reception he had met with at Tepellené from
Ali Pashaw.
After having halted some time at Athens, where they established their
headquarters, the travellers, when they had inspected the principal antiquities of the city
(those things which all travellers must visit), made several excursions into the environs, and
among other places went to Eleusis.
On the 13th of January they mounted earlier than usual, and set out on that
road which has the site of the Academy and the Colonos, the retreat of Œdipus during his banishment, a little to the right; they then entered the
Olive Groves, crossed the Cephessus, and came to an open, well-cultivated plain, extending on
the left to the Piraeus and the sea. Having ascended by a gentle acclivity through a pass, at
the distance of eight or ten miles from Athens, the ancient Corydallus, now called
Daphné-rouni, they came, at the bottom of a piny mountain, to the little monastery of
Daphné, the appearance and situation of which are in agreeable unison. The monastery was
then fast verging into that state of the uninhabitable picturesque so much admired by young
damsels and artists of a romantic vein. The pines on the adjacent mountains hiss as they
ever wave their boughs, and somehow, such is the lonely aspect of the
place, that their hissing may be imagined to breathe satire against the pretensions of human
vanity.
After passing through the hollow valley in which this monastic habitation is
situated, the road sharply turns round an elbow of the mountain, and the Eleusinian plain opens
immediately in front. It is, however, for a plain, but of small dimensions. On the left is the
Island of Salamis, and the straits where the battle was fought; but neither of it nor of the
mysteries for which the Temple of Ceres was for so many
ages celebrated, has the poet given us description or suggestion; and yet few topics among all
his wild and wonderful subjects were so likely to have furnished such “ample room, and
verge enough” to his fancy.
The next excursion in any degree interesting, it a qualification of that
kind can be applied to excursions, in Attica, was to Cape Colonna. Crossing the bed of the
Ilissus and keeping nearer to Mount Hymettus, the travellers arrived at Vary, a farm belonging
to the monastery of Agios Asomatos, and under the charge of a caloyer. Here they stopped for
the night, and being furnished with lights, and attended by the caloyer’s servant as a
guide, they proceeded to inspect the Paneum, or sculptured cavern in that neighbourhood, into
which they descended. Having satisfied their curiosity there, they proceeded, in the morning,
to Keratéa, a small town containing about two hundred and fifty houses, chiefly inhabited
by rural Albanians.
The wetness of the weather obliged them to remain several days at
Keratéa, during which they took the opportunity of a few hours of sunshine to ascend the
mountain of Parné in quest of a cave of which many wonderful things were reported in the
country. Having found the entrance, kindled their pine torches, and taken a supply of strips of
the same wood, they let
themselves down through a narrow aperture;
creeping still farther down, they came into what seemed a large subterranean hall, arched as it
were with high cupolas of crystal, and divided into long aisles by columns of glittering spar,
in some parts spread into wide horizontal chambers, in others terminated by the dark mouths of
deep and steep abysses receding into the interior of the mountain.
The travellers wandered from one grotto to another until they came to a
fountain of pure water, by the side of which they lingered some time, till, observing that
their torches were wasting, they resolved to return; but after exploring the labyrinth for a
few minutes, they found themselves again close beside this mysterious spring. It was not
without reason they then became alarmed, for the guide confessed with trepidation that he had
forgotten the intricacies of the cave, and knew not how to recover the outlet.
Byron often described this adventure with spirit and humour,
magnifying both his own and his friend’s terrors; and though, of course, there was
caricature in both, yet the distinction was characteristic. Mr.
Hobhouse, being of a more solid disposition naturally, could discern nothing but
a grave cause for dread in being thus lost in the bowels of the earth;
Byron, however, described his own anxiety as a species of excitement
and titillation which moved him to laughter. Their escape from starvation and being buried
alive was truly providential.
While roaming in a state of despair from cave to cell; climbing up narrow
apertures; their last pine-torch fast consuming; totally ignorant of their position, and all
around darkness, they discovered, as it were by accident, a ray of light gleaming towards them;
they hastened towards it, and arrived at the mouth of the cave.
Although the poet has not made any use of this incident in description, the
actual experience which it gave
him of what despair is, could not but
enrich his metaphysical store, and increase his knowledge of terrible feelings; of the workings
of the darkest and dreadest anticipations—slow famishing death—cannibalism and the
rage of self-devouring hunger.
Leigh Hunt,
Lord Byron and Some of his Contemporaries (London: Henry Colburn, 1828)
An article was
written in “The Westminster
Review” (Medwin says
by Mr. Hobhouse) to show that the Conversations were altogether unworthy of
credit. There are doubtless many inaccuracies in the latter; but the spirit remains
undoubted; and the author of the criticism was only vexed, that such was the fact. He
assumes, that Lord Byron could not have made this or that statement to
Captain Medwin, because the statement was erroneous or untrue; but
an anonymous author has no right to be believed in preference to one who speaks in his own
name: there is nothing to show that Mr. Hobhouse might not have been
as mistaken about a date or an epigram as Mr. Medwin; and when we find
him giving us his own version of a fact, and Mr. Medwin asserting that
Lord Byron gave him another, the only impression left upon the
mind of any body who knew his Lordship is, that the fault most probably lay in the loose
corners of the noble Poet’s vivacity. Such is the impression made upon the author of
an unpublished Letter to Mr.
Hobhouse, which has been shown me in print; and he had a right to it. The
reviewer, to my knowledge, is mistaken upon some points, as well as the person he reviews.
The assumption, that nobody can know any thing about Lord Byron but
two or three persons who were conversant with him for a certain space of time, and whom he
spoke of with as little ceremony, and would hardly treat with more confidence than he did a
hundred others, is ludicrous; and can only end, as the criticism has done, in doing no good
either to him or them. . . .
John Galt,
“Pot versus Kettle” in Fraser’s Magazine
Vol. 2
No. 11 (December 1830)
“Dear Sir;—Amongst the
agreeable things which you say of me in your life of Lord Byron, you conjecture that I
‘condemned’
Childe Harold
previously to its publication. There is not the slightest foundation for this
supposition—nor is it true as you state, ‘that I was the only person
who had seen the poem in manuscript, as I was with Lord
Byron whilst he was writing it.’ I had left
Lord Byron before he had finished the two cantos, and,
excepting a few fragments, I had never seen them until they were printed. My own
persuasion is, that the story told in Dallas’s Recollections of some
person, name unknown, having dissuaded Lord Byron from
publishing Childe Harold, is a
mere fabrication, for it is at complete variance with all Lord
Byron himself told me on the subject. At any rate, I was not that
person; if I had been, it is not very likely that the poem which I had endeavoured
to stifle in its birth, should, in its complete, or, as Lord
Byron says, in its ‘concluded state,’ be dedicated to
me. I must, therefore, request you will take the earliest opportunity of relieving
me from this imputation, which, so far as a man can be written down by any other
author than himself, cannot fail to produce a very prejudicial effect, and to give
me more uneasiness than I think it can be your wish to inflict on any man who has
never given you provocation or excuse for injustice. . . .
John Galt,
“Pot versus Kettle” in Fraser’s Magazine
Vol. 2
No. 11 (December 1830)
I am glad to find my college
stories administered relief to your nerves, when we were together in the Malta
packet some one and twenty years ago; and I am not sorry that my wearing a red
coat at Cagliari, and cutting my finger in the quarries of Pentelicus, should
have furnished materials for your present volume; but to repay me for having
supplied these timely episodes, as well as for your copious extracts from my
travels in Albania, and also for inserting my note about Madame Guiccioli without my leave, you must
positively cancel the passage respecting Childe Harold
in page 161 of your little volume. . . .
John Galt,
“Pot versus Kettle” in Fraser’s Magazine
Vol. 2
No. 11 (December 1830)
I wonder that even common policy did not induce you to be
more cautious in making statements which might be so easily disproved, and
which have, indeed, been already incontrovertibly refuted. The very
conversation, which you have judiciously selected from Medwin, as one of those parts of his trumpery book to the truth of which you
can speak, I know to be a lie; for I never went the tour of the lake of Geneva
with Lord Byron. . . .
John Galt,
“Pot versus Kettle” in Fraser’s Magazine
Vol. 2
No. 11 (December 1830)
You tell me that your wish has
been to give only an outline of his intellectual character. I am at a loss to
understand how your gossip about him and me, and the silly anecdotes you have
copied from very discreditable authorities, can be said to be fairly comprised
in such an outline. But your plan ought certainly to have compelled you to make
yourself thoroughly acquainted with his poetry, and to quote him just as he
wrote. Nevertheless, you have misrepresented him at least nine times in the ten
stanzas of that poem which you call the last, and which was not the last, he
ever wrote. Oh, for shame! stick to your acknowledged fictions—there you
are safe—you may deal with Leddy
Grippy and Laurie Todd as
you please, but not with those who have really lived, or who are still
alive. . . .
[John Wilson et. al.],
“Noctes Ambrosianae XVII” in Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine
Vol. 16
No. 94 (November 1824)
And there was another funny thing o’ his, till a queer looking lad, one
Mr. Skeffington, that wrote a tragedy, that was called
“The Mysterious Bride,” the whilk
thing made the Times newspaper for once witty—for it
said no more o’t, than just “Last night a play called The Mysterious
Bride, by the Honorable Mr. Skeffington, was performed at Drury Lane.
The piece was damned.” Weel, ye see it happened that there was a masquerade some nights after,
and Mr. Cam Hobhouse gaed till’t in the disguise
o’ a Spanish nun, that had been ravished by the French army— . . .
Ali Pasha of Yannina (1740-1822)
Albanian warlord who expanded his territories during the Napoleonic wars but was
eventually suppressed by the Ottoman Turks; he entertained Byron in 1809.
John Cam Hobhouse, baron Broughton (1786-1869)
Founder of the Cambridge Whig Club; traveled with Byron in the orient, radical MP for
Westminster (1820); Byron's executor; after a long career in politics published
Some Account of a Long Life (1865) later augmented as
Recollections of a Long Life, 6 vols (1909-1911).
Giovanni Battista Lusieri (1755 c.-1821 c.)
Italian painter and draftsman who from 1799 assisted Lord Elgin in assembling his
collection of antiquities, including the Parthenon marbles.
Pericles (495 BC c.-429 BC)
Notable Athenian statesman deposed at the outset of the Peloponnesian war.
Phokion Roque (1810 fl.)
French merchant at Athens; a Phocion Roque (1807-1871) was Greek chargé d'affaires at
Paris.
Themistocles (524 BC c.-459 BC c.)
Athenian statesman who commanded the Greek fleet against the Persians at Salamis.