Letters and Journals of Lord Byron
Lord Byron to Mrs. Byron, 12 November 1809
“Prevesa, November 12, 1809.
“MY DEAR MOTHER,
“I have now been some time in Turkey: this place is on the
coast, but I have traversed the interior of the province of Albania o a visit to the
Pacha. I left Malta in the Spider, a brig of war, on the 21st of September, and arrived in eight days at
Prevesa. I thence have been about 150 miles, as far as Tepaleen, his highness’s
country palace, where I stayed three days. The name of the Pacha is
Ali, and he is considered a man of the first abilities: he
governs the whole of Albania (the ancient Illyricum), Epirus, and part of Macedonia. His
son, Vely Pacha, to whom he has given me letters,
governs the Morea, and has great influence in Egypt; in short he is one of the most
powerful wen in the Ottoman empire. When I reached Yanina, the capital, after a journey
of three days over the mountains, through a country of the most picturesque beauty, I
found that Ali Pacha was with his army in Illyricum, besieging
Ibrahim Pacha in the castle of Peret. He had heard that an
Englishman of rank was in his dominions, and had left orders in Yanina with the
commandant to provide a house, and supply me with every kind of necessary gratis: and,
though I have been allowed to make presents to the slaves, &c. I have rot beer
permitted to pay for a single article of household consumption.
“I rode out on the vizier’s horses, and saw the
palaces of himself ![]()
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and grandsons: they are splendid, but
too much ornamented with silk and gold. I then went over the mountains through Zitza, a
village with a Greek monastery (where I slept on my return), in the most beautiful
situation (always excepting Cintra, in Portugal) I ever beheld. In nine days I reached
Tepaleen. Our journey was much prolonged by the torrents that had fallen from the
mountains, and intersected the roads. I shall never forget the singular scene* on
entering Tepaleen at five in
* The following is Mr.
Hobhouse’s less embellished description of this
scene:—“The court at Tepellene, which was enclosed on two sides by the
palace, and on the other two sides by a high wall, presented us, at our first
entrance, with a sight something like what we might have, perhaps, beheld some
hundred years ago in the castle-yard of a great feudal lord. Soldiers, with
their arms piled against the wall near them) were assembled in different parts
of the square: some of them pacing slowly backwards and forwards, and others
sitting on the ground in groups. Several horses, completely caparisoned, were
leading about, whilst others were neighing under the hands of the grooms. In
the Dart farthest from the dwelling, preparations were making for the feast of
the night; and several kids and sheep were being dressed by cooks who were
themselves half armed. Every thing wore a most martial look, though not exactly
in the style of the head-quarters of a christian general; for many of the
soldiers were in the most common dress, without shoes, and having more wildness
in their air and manner than the Albanians we had before seen.” On comparing this description, which is itself sufficiently
striking, with those which Lord Byron has given of the same
scene, both in the letter to his mother, and in the Second Canto of Childe Harold, we gain some insight
into the process by which imagination elevates, without falsifying, reality, and
facts become brightened and refined into poetry. Ascending from the representation
drawn faithfully on the spot by the traveller, to the more fanciful arrangement of
the same materials in the letter of the poet, we at length, by one step more,
arrive at that consummate, idealized picture, the result of both memory and
invention combined, which in the following splendid stanzas it presented to us; “Amidst no common pomp the despot sate, While busy preparation shook the court, Slaves, eunuchs, soldiers, guests, and santons wait; Within, a palace, and without, a fort: Here men of every clime appear to make resort. |
![]() “Richly caparison’d a ready row Of armed horse, and many a warlike store, Circled the wide extending court below; Above, strange groups adorn’d the corridore; And oft-times through the area’s echoing door Some high-capp’d Tartar spurr’d his steed sway: The Turk, the Greek, the Albanian, and the Moor, Here mingled in their many-hued array, While the deep war-drum’s sound announced the close of day. |
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the afternoon, as the sun was going down. It brought to my
mind (with some change of dress, however) Scott’s description of Branksome Castle in his Lay, and the feudal system. The
Albanians, in their dresses (the most magnificent in the world, consisting of a long white kilt, gold-worked cloak, crimson velvet gold-laced jacket
and waistcoat, silver-mounted pistols and daggers), the Tartars with their high caps,
the Turks in their vast pelisses and turbans, the soldiers and black slaves with the
horses, the former in groups in an immense large open gallery in front of the palace,
the latter placed in a kind of cloister below it, two hundred steeds ready caparisoned
to move in a moment, couriers entering or passing out with despatches, the kettle-drums
beating, boys calling the hour from the minaret of the mosque, altogether, with the
singular appearance of the building itself, formed a new and delightful spectacle to a
stranger. I was conducted to a very handsome apartment, and my health inquired after by
the vizier’s secretary, à-la-mode Turque!’
“The next day I was introduced to Ali Pacha. I was dressed in a full suit of staff uniform, with a very
magnificent sabre, &c. The vizier received me in a large room paved, with marble; a
fountain was playing in the centre; the apartment was surrounded by scarlet ottomans. He
received me standing, a wonderful compliment from a Mussulman, and
“The wild Albanian kirtled so his knee, With shawl-girt head and ornamented gun, And gold-embroider’d garments, fair to see; The crimson-scarfed men of Macedon; The Delhi with his cap of terror on, And crooked glaive; the lively, supple Greek; And swarthy Nubia’s mutilated son; The bearded Turk that rarely deigns to speak, Master of all around, too potent to be meek, |
![]() “Are mix’d conspicuous; some reclining in
groups, Scanning the motley scene that varies round; There some grave Moslem to devotion stoops, And some that smoke, end some the. play, are found; Here the Albanian proudly treads the ground; Half whispering there the Greek is heard to prate; Hark! from the mosque the nightly solemn sound, The Muezin’s rati doth shake the minaret, There is no god but God!—to prayer—lo! God is great!’” |
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made me sit down on his right hard. I have a Greek
interpreter for general use, but a physician of Ali’s, named
Femlario, who understands Latin, acted for me on this occasion.
His first question was, why, at so early an age, I left my country?—(the Turks have no
idea of travelling for amusement). He then said, the English minister, Captain Leake, had told him I was of a great family, and
desired his respects to my mother; which I now, in the name of All
Pacha, present to you. He said he was certain I was a man of birth,
because I had small ears, curling hair, and little white hands*, and expressed himself
pleased with my appearance and garb. He told me to consider him as a father whilst I was
in Turkey, and said he looked on me as his son. Indeed, he treated me like a child,
sending me almonds and sugared sherbet, fruit and sweetmeats, twenty times a day. He
begged me to visit him often, and at night, when he was at leisure. I then, after coffee
and pipes, retired for the first time. I saw him thrice afterwards. It is singular, that
the Turks, who have no hereditary dignities, and few great families, except the Sultans,
pay so much respect to birth; for I found my pedigree more regarded them my
title†.
* * * *
“To-day I saw the remains of the town of Actium, near which
Antony lost the world, in a small bay, where two
frigates could hardly manœeuvre: a broken wall is the sole remnant. On another part of
the gulf stand the ruins of Nicopolis, built by Augustus in honour of his victory. Last night I was a Greek marriage; but
this and a thousand things more I have neither time nor space to describe.
“I am going to-morrow, with a guard of fifty men, to Patras
in the Morea, and thence to Athens, where I shall Winter. Two days ago I was
* In the shape of the hands, as a mark of high birth,
Lord Byron himself had as implicit faith as the Pacha; see
his note on the line, “Though on more thorough-bred
or fairer fingers,” in Don
Juan. |
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† A few sentences are here and elsewhere omitted, as
having no reference to Lord Byron himself, but merely
containing some particulars relating to Ali
and his grandsons, which may be found in various books of travels. Ali had not forgotten his noble guest when Dr. Holland, a few years after, visited
Albania:—“I mentioned to him, generally (says this intelligent
traveller), Lord Byron’s poetical description of
Albania, the interest it had excited in England, and Mr. Hobhouse’s intended publication of
his travels in the same country. He seemed pleased with these circumstances,
and stated his recollections of Lord Byron.”
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nearly lost in a Turkish ship of war, owing to the
ignorance of the captain and crew, though the storm was not violent. Fletcher yelled after his wife, the Greeks called on all
the saints, the Mussulmans on Alla; the captain burst into tears and ran below deck,
telling us to call on God; the sails were split, the main-yard shivered, the wind
blowing fresh, the night setting in, and all our chance was to make Corfu, which is in
possession of the French, or (as Fletcher pathetically termed it)
‘a watery grave.’ I did what I could to console
Fletcher, but finding him incorrigible, wrapped myself up in my
Albanian capote (an immense cloak), and lay down on deck to wait the worst*. I have
learnt to philosophize in my travels, and if I had not, complaint was useless. Luckily
the wind abated, and only drove us on the coast of Suli, on the main land, where we
landed, and proceeded, by the help of the natives, to Prevesa again; but I shall not
trust Turkish sailors in future, though the Pacha had ordered one of his own galliots to
take me to Patras. I am therefore going as far as Missolonghi by land, and there have
only to cross a small gulf to get to Patras.
“Fletcher’s
next epistle will be full of marvels: we were one night lost for nine hours in the
mountains in a thunder-storm†, and since nearly wrecked. In both cases,
Fletcher was sorely bewildered, from appre-
* I have heard the poet’s fellow traveller describe this
remarkable instance of his coolness and courage even still more strikingly than it
is here stated by himself. Finding that, from his lameness, he was unable to be of
any service in the exertions which their very serious danger called for, after a
laugh or two at the panic of his valet, he not only wrapped himself up and lay
down, in the manner he mentioned, but, when their difficulties were surmounted,
was found fast asleep. |
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† In the route from Ioannina to Zitza, Mr. Hobhouse and the Secretary of
Ali, accompanied by one of the servants, had rode on
before the rest of the party, and arrived at the village just as the evening set
in. After describing the sort of hovel in which they were to take up their
quarters for the night, Mr. Hobhouse thus
continues:—“Vasilly was despatched into the
village to procure eggs and fowls, that would be ready, as we thought, by the
arrival of the second party. But an hour passed away and no one appeared. It
was seven o’clock, and the storm had increased to a fury I had never
before, and, indeed, have never since, seen equalled. The roof of our hovel
shook under the clattering torrents and gusts of wind. The thunder roared, as
it seemed, without any intermission; for the echoes of one peal had not ceased
to roll in the mountains, before another tremendous crush burst over our heads;
whilst the plains and the distant hills (visible through the cracks of the
cabin) appeared in a perpetual blaze. The tempest was altogether terrific and
worthy of the Grecian Jove; and the peasants, no less
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hensions of famine and banditti in the first, and drowning
in the second instance. His eyes were a little hurt by the lightning, or crying (I
don’t know which), but are now recovered. When you write, address to me at
Mr. Strané’s, English consul, Patras,
Morea.
“I could tell you I know not how many incidents that I think
would amuse you, but they crowd on my mind as much as they would swell my paper, and I
can neither arrange them in the one, nor put them down on the other, except in the
greatest confusion. I like the Albanians much; they are not all Turks; some tribes are
Christians. But their religion makes little difference in their manner or conduct. They
are esteemed the best troops in the Turkish service. I lived on my route
religious than their Ancestors, confessed their alarm. The women wept, and the
men, calling on the name of God, crossed themselves at every repeated peal. “We were very uneasy that the party did not arrive; but the Secretary
assured me that the guides knew every part of the country, as did also his own
servant, who was with them, and that they had certainly taken shelter in a
village at an hour’s distance. Not being satisfied with the conjecture, I
ordered fires to be lighted on the hill above the village, and some musquets to
be discharged: this was at eleven o’clock, and the storm had not abated.
I lay down in my greet coat; but all sleeping was out of the question, as any
pauses in the tempest were filled up by the barking of the dogs, end the
shouting of the shepherds in the neighbouring mountains. “A little after midnight, a man, panting and pale, and drenched with
rain, rushed into the room, and, between crying and roaring, with a profusion
of action, communicated something to the Secretary, of which I understood
only—that they had all fallen down. I learnt, however, that no accident had
happened, except the falling of the luggage horses, and losing their way, and
that they were now waiting for fresh horses and guides. Ten were immediately
sent to them, together with several men with pine torches; but it was not till
two o’clock in the morning that we heard they were approaching, and my
Friend, with the priest and the servants, did not enter our hut before three.
“I now learnt from him that they had lost their way from the
commencement of the storm, when not above three miles from the village; and
that, after wandering up and down in total ignorance of their position, they
had, at last, stopped near some Turkish tombstones and a torrent which they saw
by the flashes of lightning. They had been thus exposed for nine hours; and the
guides, so far from assisting them, only augmented the confusion, by running
away, after being threatened with death by George the
Dragoman, who, in an agony of rage and fear, and without giving any warning,
fired off both his pistols, and drew from the English servant an involuntary
scream of horror; for he fancied they were beset by robbers. “I had not, as you have seen, witnessed the distressing part of this
adventure myself; but from the lively picture drawn of it by my Friend, and
from the exaggerated descriptions of George, I fancied
myself a good judge of the whole situation, and should consider this to have
been one of the most considerable of the few adventures that befel either of us
during our tour in Turkey. It was long before we ceased to talk of the
thunder-storm in the plain of Zitza.” |
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two days at once, and three days again, in a barrack at
Salora, and never found soldiers so tolerable, though I have been in the garrisons of
Gibraltar and Malta, and seen Spanish, French, Sicilian, and British troops in
abundance. I have had nothing stolen, and was always welcome to their provision and
milk. Not a week ago an Albanian chief (every village has its chief, who is called
Primate), after helping us out of the Turkish galley in her distress, feeding us, and
lodging my suite, consisting of Fletcher, a
Greek, two Athenians, a Greek priest, and my companion, Mr.
Hobhouse, refused any compensation but a written paper stating that I was
well received; and when I pressed urn to accept a few sequins, ‘No,’ he
replied; ‘I wish you to love me, not to pay me.’ These are his words.
“It is astonishing how far money goes in this country. While
I was in the capital, I had nothing to pay, by the vizier’s order; but since,
though I have generally had sixteen horses, and generally six or seven men, the expense
has not been half as much as staying only three weeks in Malta,
though Sir A. Ball, the governor, gave me a house for nothing, and I had only one servant. By the by, I expect H * * to remit regularly; for I am not about to stay in this
province for ever. Let him write to me at Mr.
Strané’s, English consul, Patras. The fact is, the fertility of the
plains is wonderful, and specie is scarce, which makes this remarkable cheapness. I am
going to Athens to study modern Greek, which differs much from the ancient, though
radically similar. I have no desire to return to England, nor shall I unless compelled
by absolute want, and H * *’s neglect; but I shall not enter into Asia
for a year or two, as I have much to see in Greece, and I may perhaps cross into Africa,
at least the Egyptian part. Fletcher, like all
Englishmen, is very much dissatisfied, though a little reconciled to the Turks by a
present of eighty piastres from the vizier,
which, if you consider every thing, and the value of specie here, is nearly worth ten
guineas English. He has suffered nothing but from cold, heat, and vermin, which those
who lie in cottages and cross mountains in a cold country must undergo, and of which I
have equally partaken with himself, but he is not valiant, and is afraid of robbers and
tempests. I have no one to be remembered ![]()
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to in England,
and wish to hear nothing from it, but that you are well, and a letter or two on business
from H * *, whom you may tell to write. I will write when I can, and beg you
to believe me
“Your affectionate son,
“Byron.”
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.
Mark Antony (83 BC-30 BC)
Roman statesman and general; victorious over the republicans at Philippi, defeated by
Octavian at Actium.
William Fletcher (1831 fl.)
Byron's valet, the son of a Newstead tenant; he continued in service to the end of the
poet's life, after which he was pensioned by the family. He married Anne Rood, formerly
maid to Augusta Leigh, and was living in London in 1831.
John Hanson (1755-1841)
Byron's solicitor and business agent.
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).
Sir Henry Holland, first baronet (1788-1873)
English physician and frequenter of Holland House, the author of
Travels in the Ionian Isles, Albania, Thessaly, Macedonia etc. during 1812 and
1813 (1814) and
Recollections of Past Life (1872). His
second wife, Saba, was the daughter of Sydney Smith.
William Martin Leake (1777-1860)
The British envoy to Ali Pasha in Albania; author of, among other titles,
Researches in Greece (1814),
Travels in the
Morea, 3 vols (1830) and
Travels in Northern Greece, 4 vols
(1835).
Veli Pasha (d. 1822)
Son of Ali Pasha; he was Vizier of the Morea before he was executed during his father's
struggle with the Turks.
George Gordon Byron, sixth Baron Byron (1788-1824)
Don Juan. (London: 1819-1824). A burlesque poem in ottava rima published in installments: Cantos I and II published in
1819, III, IV and V in 1821, VI, VII, and VIII in 1823, IX, X, and XI in 1823, XII, XIII,
and XIV in 1823, and XV and XVI in 1824.
