II : XXII - XXVIII Of Transiency and Infinity

British sight-specific theatre troupe's smash hit production Sleep No More wove together the universe of the Scottish play as well as Alfred Hitchcock's cinematic world, creating a mythical environment where participants explore as the story unravels around them. One of the characters the creators added to the story is Hecate as the queen of the witches that appeared to deliver the oracle for Macbeth. See my illustration of the story (the one top left is Hecate):

My Illustration of Sleep No More

Hecate is actually an ancient goddess of witchcraft as well as various things like the torch, light, fire, the moon, crossroads... in short, anything with an air of mystery. She appears in the tripartite state of nature, usually with three faces (phases). Three, of course, is probably considered the most magical number of them all, and most powerful too: the unbreakable holy trinity just for an example. 

Hecate facing three directions by Richard Cosway

The presence of Hecate is proper as the poet enters the realm of the Muslim. The Byzantium symbol of crescent and star had been linked to the goddess since late Hellenistic civilization (one example of Hellenistic period art is Venus de Milo). The people of Byzantium had been quite devoted to her ladyship, with a cult and everything, such as the counterpart of Athena's "fan base" on the Greek side. According to one theory, she is the sister of Leto, who mothers Apollo and Artemis. This relationship makes Hecate the aunt of the sun god and moon goddess. A pretty grand position if you ask me! Another less devine theory makes her a priestess, turned immortal by the Artemis. 

Imagine being onboard of a ship, and you go on deck at night while all is silent, the kind of silent we cannot experience in modern times, and all you can hear is the murmur of the wind, and you set your mind aloof. The air would be filled with ancient stories and even though you're alone in the vastness between the sky and the ocean, you feel surrounded by gods with blessings of all kinds. You have a chance to meditate and travel by freewill. And you start to miss the best times of your life... Byron had an emotionally tormenting childhood and teen years because of his complicated relationship with his mother and his lameness. It's only conceivable that he would be constantly imagining another kind of life if he could start over. His "escape from reality" is made possible because of title and financial support, romanticized because of his brilliance in handling words. On a lighter note, he also experienced major personal growth through those voyages, as the level of maturity becomes more and more apparent between the lines.

The generally shorter lifespan of people back in 19th century makes it understandable that a 24-year-old would have deep contemplation and acute awareness of his own mortality, thus constantly look in retrospect within himself. The moon, the lone vessel and the sound of the waves set the mood. 

Being aware of one's mortality at a comparatively young age can usually lead to two attitudes and results: 1. Give up and lament how nothing is possible to attain in a lifetime, or 2. Start living every day like it's the last, scaling all the mountain you can climb, crossing all the streams you pass along the way. Think of life as a story without an ending, but that doesn't mean you should give up the pleasure in the process. The best is always that little bit just out of reach, out of sight.

Think of it as a balance of active elements: when you're surrounded by acquaintances and you're socializing in the midst of a bubbling crowd, your mind would be processing only one thing at a time; however, when you're in the state of physical solitude, your mind becomes kaleidoscopic, and the world inside of you becomes infinite. "O God, I could be bounded in a nutshell, and count myself a king of infinite space", says Prince Hamlet the melancholy. Under arrest in Turin while serving, Xavier de Maistre wrote Voyage autour de ma chambre (Voyage Around My Room), published first in 1794. Quite a contemporary of Lord Byron, Xavier de Maistre later in his life also went on journeys to explore the world.

The mind is a boundless dimension, and those who master the art of using it are invincible, of course, note that knowledge still sets the base, otherwise the mind would be nothing but a vacuumed mote.

There are also two attitudes and results a vast amount of knowledge can bring one: 1. Become melancholic but nonchalant about worldly matters, for he understands the improbability of him being able to change anything; or 2. becoming much involved in all matters of the world, make changes or die trying. There's no say which way is better, but I would probably choose the latter, for the same reason I'd choose the positive reaction towards mortality. The entire human race could be considered as one living organism, and its evolution needs the effort of every single individual. The eremites, seem to me as though deactivated cells... however useful and perfectly cultured they might be, still useless.

The good news is most of us are born with the autonomous drive to move forward and get involved. It's ok to feel blue at times, but as the shore rises along the horizon, we would know that it's time for us to find another path. Breath with the world and feel the rhythm of the nature matching so perfectly with our heartbeats.

And follow the footprints of Harold we shall land the anchor and step ashore once again, with another love story, and another world ahead.

"The world is not beautiful, therefore it is..."

II : XVI - XXI Of the Sea and the Moon

Before commercial airlines were invented, there's only one way daredevils go exploring the world: hit the wave and go to uncharted waters. It hasn't been long since human being finally grasped the whole scope of our planet, if you think about it. For the most part of our race's time on earth, we've just been satisfied with the comfort of ignorance. However, once you tasted the sweetness of adventures, there's no turing back. 

Harold, for one, is cutting himself loose from all his past attachments, moving on to the next destination. Of course, it's easier to leave a place that had depressed him so much: Greece, was like a tomb of a civilization, a shell of what used to be so vivacious and rich.

Between 1809-1810, Lord Byron went back and forth from Greece (the general Mediterranean area) to Turkey (especially Constantinople, Troy, etc.) 

He visited important geographical marks in Odyssey and Iliad during that time including Ithaca, Odysseus' home, Athens, Troy, spending long bulks of time in that area, while writing the first two cantos of Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. 

The imageries in Canto the Second were, of course, fresh and vivid. 

The ocean possesses something entirely inexplicable to our logical minds. It pulls you in and calms you down even when you see those fierce waves and hear those restless howls. It's as though a kind of subliminal siren song draws you close to the heart of the ocean. There's no way to escape it once you're intoxicated by the salty wind. 

The "dark, blue sea" has been a constant motif in Lord Byron's poetry. Having spend so much time abroad and about, it's understandable that the ever-changing climes at the sea would inspire the romantic poet. In stanza XVII, the ocean presents itself as a peaceful and vast sight in front of Childe Harold's eyes, filled with spirit. The sea is an interesting symbol, for it represent different things for different people. Byron, for instance, was an individual who's saturated with knowledge of history, hence the ocean to him became more than just a body water, but rather a mote of memories that connects the past and the presents. Here's another poem about the ocean:

The Dark, Blue Sea
by Lord Byron
There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,There is a rapture on the lonely shore,There is society where none intrudes,By the deep sea, and music in its roar:I love not man the less, but nature more,From these our interviews, in which I stealFrom all I may be, or have been before,To mingle with the universe, and feelWhat I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal.-
Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean-roll!Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain;

Read the rest of the poem here, and the attached video provides you with a narrative perspective of the literature. This poem, to me is almost an expansion and a microscopic view of a small segment of "Childe Harold".

Let your mind race when facing the dark, blue sea...

you wouldn't be able to resist it.

The structure of a ship crew, called warlike here by Byron, to me is more like a corporation. You have the Captain who commands the executive decisions like a CEO; you have the experienced boatswain who functions as the maintenance head; and you have the mate who would be more similar than you think to a modern day PR department, overlooking crisis and figuring out how to solve all kinds of problems.

It takes a lot of will power and the calmest personality to be a captain, for he is responsible for the well being of the entire crew, just like what a good CEO of the company would be. He would be the one to blame for the crisis and the last one to loose up. Recently I heard the story of the captain of a ship that went on an exploration voyage to the north pole. A man of few words, the captain revealed in front of the journalist that he's accustomed to danger and accepted the fact that you have to be ready to yield to the power of nature at any time.

The sea is also a provider of neutral environments where people can forget about all the daily nuisances. Maybe that's why we still go on cruises although many a times those voyages prove to be the opposite of what the advertising says. Of course, it depends on what you ask for in the first place. Personally I've always had this fantasy of going sailing at the sea and see all the different colours of the water and all the different shapes of clouds. You get what you sign up for...minus the romanticized part. 

The brine consumes it all. 

The flow of your thoughts stirs into the unknown. 

The process is irreversible. 

The other universal motif that fascinates people across time and space is, if you still haven't guessed it yet, the moon. Every single poet, visual artist, singer as far as I know, regardless of age, cultural background, gender or race, has used the ethereal being, the moon, as a subject and a muse. Chinese poet Li Bai in Tang Dynasty would look up the sky with his drunken eyes, inviting the moon and his own shadow for another round. It's a whimsical sight, incredibly zen.

There are endless tales about the origin of moon and fascinating lores explaining the man in the moon, or in my case, I grew up knowing that the goddess Chang Eh took a leap of faith in her desire of coming immortal, left her home and her husband, and took residence in the palace of the moon. There's a white rabbit and a flowering three there to keep her company. The moon has always been a place of solitude and self reflection for philosophers throughout history. Since man's first step onto the surface of moon, we already know that it's a barren satellite planet of the earth, tucking and pulling the tides being one of her functions; yet we still enjoy fantastical stories with no scientific basis about the moon. Why? Because the moon we talk about in stories is more than a boring astronomical being, but a symbol that connects humanity and makes us one.

Here's a modern rendition by Pigpen Theatre Co. telling the tale of how the moon changes shape. A story of the steward of the moon with shadow puppetry in digital animation...the cutting edge modern and the traditional, the handicraftsman and the digital editing, you can't get more integrated than that!

II : X - XV The Lost Treasures of Greece

About the disappearance of the statue of Zeus at the Temple of Zeus of Olympia, there are many stories, some fantastical. Some said that Roman emperor Caligula wanted to take the statue from Athens so he could remove its head and put his own on it. There's tale of the statue letting out laughters as it was being removed and transported to Rome, foretelling the approaching assassination of Caligula.

6th Son of Cronos (Saturn in Stanza X), Zeus became the king of gods, fulfilling the oracle and his father's biggest fear, thanks to his mother's protection from the envious and murderous Cronos. Here's how Homer described Zeus in Iliad. Indeed the big boss of the Olympia, Zeus had been feared and revered by gods and men alike, maybe save Hera, his deservingly jealous wife.

ἦ καὶ κυανέῃσιν ἐπ' ὀφρύσι νεῦσε Κρονίωνἀμβρόσιαι δ' ἄρα χαῖται ἐπερρώσαντο ἄνακτοςκρατὸς ἀπ' ἀθανάτοιο μέγαν δ' ἐλέλιξεν Ὄλυμπον. 

He spoke, the son of Cronos, and nodded his head with the dark brows,and the immortally anointed hair of the great godswept from his divine head, and all Olympos was shaken.                                                                                    

---- Iliad Homer

Now, Iliad (read it, seriously, it's one of my all time favourite books), is about two plundering forces collide: the Aegean and the Trojan fought to their last drop, losing the lives of most magnificent heros: Hector, Patroclus, Achilles, Ajax...just to name a few. Byron paid a visit to Patroclus' tomb himself. He amongst all would be moved by the friendship between Achille and Patroclus. It's a war without a righteous side, partially caused by the Priam's no-good-son Paris yielding to his desire (the golden apple was merely a bait as far as I'm concerned), leading to the Aegean's' despicable deeds, blood-washing a city that used to be glorious and peaceful.

  

Achilles and Patroclus

I don't think Byron was on the Aegean's side completely, but he idolized Achilles. Proof? He designed his own armour and helmet according to the one Athena bestowed to Achilles! Hobhouse thought the plumes were way overly fancy, and Byron didn't end up wearing it either because he died before confronting the enemies...but that's another story.

It's hard to imagine the span of time when the poet includes the history of thousands of years within one stanza. Mycenaean Greece, or better known as the Bronze Age, marked a series of conflicts and at the same time, artistic development. The construction of many beautiful temples in Athens with Doric order had been taken place during that time, as well as many Homeric epics. And then Virgil depicted Aeneas' journey out of Troy and thus the beginning of Ancient Roman Civilization which lasted until the year of 480. I always thought it's quite proper that Aeneas is Venus' son, and a civilization was born out of Love after a lifetime of suffering and loss.

Venus and Aeneas

The Elgin Marbles somehow survived all the rise and fall of empires, until in the beginning of 19th Century, Britain started to transport all the remaining sculptures from Parthenon and other temples across the ocean. Byron was obviously unhappy about it, scathing the fact that the British is finally taking away Greece's last bits of wealth and memory of their bountiful history. One can argue that to this point, the remnants of ancient Greek have become heritage of the entire human race, and it's understandable to take those sculptures to better care, such as in a museum, it's still robbery by all means.

After the war, treasures of the defeated side usually end up getting ripped off, for they're trophies for the victors.

There are five rivers in the realm of Hades, Styx, the river of Hate, being one of them. It was the very river Achilles had been dipped in to be made invincible by his mother when he was merely an infant. We all know what happened afterwards: the mother missed one spot, which let to the son's fateful downfall. Achilles didn't enjoy his afterlife. In Homer's Odyssey, Achille's soul said to Odysseus: "I would rather follow the plow as thrall to another man, one with no land allotted to him and not much to live on, than be a king over all the perished dead". And a much more serious problem is: the Greek hero can no longer protect his beloved land, lest she's lost to the foreign robbers.

There's always a conflict of interests when it comes to deciding what to do with ancient cultural heritages. There's nothing the Greek can do in the beginning of 19th century. They were week, wounded and seemed unrecoverable. The Britannica had been on the rise, conquering the ocean with flying colours. Is it moral to transport the Elgin Marbles from a country that wasn't able to say no, even with the best intentions? You can only have an attitude towards this kind of things, but not a sound explanations.

History can always be examined, studied, evaluated, with which we predict the future, for it is based on human nature. Yet even if we see through it in all clarity, it's still impossible for us to offer an explanation to the tendency towards conflicts and destruction throughout our history. It takes a lot of precaution and willpower to protect a legacy, which is all so easy to lose.  

II : VII - IX A Slightly Depressing Fact

"I know nothing but the certainty of my own ignorance." Socrates said that. He's got a lot of great one-liners on the same subject. Here's the somewhat depressing truth: we are all insufferably ignorant. As a matter of fact, the more you learn, the more certain you are about that. There's just so much that you wish you had learnt during your childhood, when your memory was at its prime.

Socrates' Trial

Being one of the smartest guys in human history, Socrates humbled us all by admitting his limit, and the sad truth of how little power we have in the physical world. He also said once, that most of us wouldn't even realize our own ignorance, or even take comfort in it. The quest of seeking truth and the possession of certain knowledge can be terrifying, history being one of those dangerous subjects. 

As our poet walked the walk of unearthing the truths he sought in the ruins of the place considered origin of western philosophy, he's realizing the exact same thing, especially with the premonition of his own mortality hanging above his head! (His death at the age of 36 had been foretold) Standing in front of the remains of where ancient philosophers once gave seminars, with his blood saturated with history, there will be questions without answers. 

Those restless souls have been, and will always been the pilgrims of knowledge will death puts a halt on their journeys. 

Interesting fact about Acheron: the newly dead get ferried across it to enter the underworld. It's also called the river of pain. Vigil described it as the principle river and Dante called it the border of hell in Inferno, both poets being Byron's childhood idols.  

Charles Babbage

I'm feeling him as we speak, with so many unsolvable problems I'm facing everyday, as I read on about Byron's life, and all the untraceable facts. I could use internet and digital database -- modern communication has enabled us to do more than ever, to reach out farther than ever, but not, DEFINITELY NOT during 19th century, when scholars had to actually visit the sites for their researches. It's not until the later half of the 1800s when Byron's very own daughter Ada Lovelace began imagining what computers can do for human society. Her contribution to Charles Babbage's analytical engine earned her the name of "the first computer programmer".

There's a strange relationship between knowledge and religion. Some say that religion is a quitter's way out of explaining things they don't understand. The more you know, the more you'd question the existence of an omnipotent god. I've always preferred to think that most religious scriptures serve better as fables and moral guidances, rather than shackles of people's freewill.

The school of Athens witnessed some of the brightest stars of human society. Their wisdom is transcendental and boundless. The Bactrian sage mentioned here was Zoroaster, who suggested that the human condition is an endless struggle between what he called "asa (truth)" and "druj (lie)".  His philosophy had great influence on Middle Platonism as well as Judaism.

Detail of The School of Athens by Raphael, 1509, showing Zoroaster (left, with star-studded globe).

Pythagoras was the Samian Sage that got called out in here, another influential people in Plato's life and shaping of his philosophy and world view, and of course, thus the entire western philosophy scope. You might remember his name from the mathematical theorem that goes like this:

His other contribution includes tetractys and various musical theories. Aristotle once called him a supernatural being. Aristotle exaggerated out of admiration, of course. Pythagoras, like all those amazing educators in the School of Athens, was just another pilgrim of truth that wouldn't rest until...there's actually no destination on their journeys, only another, and another step further.

Pythagoras, the man in the center with the book, teaching music, in The School of Athens by Raphael

"All that we know is, nothing can be known." Indeed Socrates said that too. At tis point of Childe Harold's journey, we are facing serious problems like regrets and the limit of the mortal. All those philosophers in the past are gone, though their words lived on. The Sadducees, mentioned in Stanza 8, dind't believe in resurrection. Life is a one time opportunity and there's no turing back. Socrate's orchard experiment depressed all of his students who wished for a second chance. The slightly frustrating truth is: we will infinitely be relatively ignorant. But that shouldn't stop us from craving for more knowledge, for the flip side of that frustrating truth is, there will always be pilgrims of truth picking up what we left behind. People in the future will always be able to solve the mysteries we cannot untangle during our lifetime.

A Tom Stoppard quote perfectly demonstrates this:

"We shed as we pick up, like travellers who must carry everything in their arms, and what we let fall will be picked up by those behind. The procession is very long and life is very short. We die on the march. But there is nothing outside the march so nothing can be lost to it. The missing plays of Sophocles will turn up piece by piece, or be written again in another language. Ancient cures for diseases will reveal themselves once more. Mathematical discoveries glimpsed and lost to view will have their time again."
                                                                                                 ---- Septimus   Arcadia, Act I 

There's always more to know.

II : I - VI In Ruins

People call it the cradle of western civilization, Athens, the city named after the goddess of wisdom. There is a constellation of temples dedicated to her, or at least carrying her title. The Parthenon is probably the one that attracts most attention. I remember visting the "fake Parthenon" in Nashville in the summer of 2012. Although it is almost impossible to imagine what it would be like to see the Parthenon in Socrate's time, or even in Byron's, with the newly constructed temple in front of my eyes, sitting amidst the lawns beautifully laid out and all those greeneries in the Mecca of American country music. Of course, I did catch glimpses of the past glory and was given the opportunity to visualize the scale of the worship Athena had. 

Being a Pagan temple, the Parthenon represents values that the Christian church wouldn't approve. After 900 years of its time being a shrine for the votaries of Athena, the Parthenon was transformed into a Christian church dedicated to the Virgin, although ironically Athena was actually one of the only three virgin goddesses in Greek mythology.

painting of the Parthenon ruin

In 1456, the Turks turned the Parthenon into a mosque, only to be destroyed yet again after 231 years by the Venetian crusaders.

Mosque inside Parthenon - the evidence of its Turkish past is now gone as well

Layers and layers of changes: generations of rulers and robbers adding new trophies of their victories and ripping off evidences of past glories of their enemies. In 1806, the last of the Turkish mosque on the original ruin was finally removed, giving the site its Greek origin, although a mere graveyard of what was once the most beautiful of ancient architecture and the epitome of arts. In 1816, several years after Byron's steps onto this piece of soil, the Parthenon marbles were sold to British Museum in London.

I wondered for about an hour in the Nashville Parthenon, most of which spent looking up at it from afar. There isn't any spirit around that structure. I can only imagine the haunting air Byron must have felt at the site of conflicts for centuries past. Standing in front of a ruin with several zeroes on her age, one can only stay silent in awe, and sigh over the tempest of fate: who would have thought, those constructors who originally designed and built the Parthenon, that future tenants of this building will have a completely belief system?

In short, power decides culture, religion, and belief.

Parthenon was one of the chief examples of architectures featuring Doric orders. Another great example was Temple of Zeus in Olympia with the same striking characters. By the time Byron visits the site, the temple of Zeus, although finally identified during the 18th century, was still in the state of partial burial due to the destruction in 426 CE and the subsequent earthquakes in 522 and 551 CE.

Ruins of the Temple of Zeus Olympio

There's one thing you'll realize indubitably if you see the ruins of a lost civilization, that eternity doesn't exists. Time and space shrink into one spot when you stand in front of a ruin, especially a ruin of a society you have known so well in your head. When Canto ii of Childe Harold was written, Byron was barely 25 years old, an age of great expectations and hopes. All his childhood had been spent having an endless longing of the Greek culture, thus the almost unreasonable sympathy the poet had for this land. His fateful fight during the Greek independence war was unavoidable if you think about how much influence this culture had on him.

The destruction of something beautiful is the roots of tragedy. The ruined temples of ancient Greece are proofs. Childe Harold saw an empty shell, unoccupied, abandoned by the gods who supposed to bestow blessings onto a city that needed them the most. The words are with sorrow, yet also with distain: for the human-like gods of Olympia understandably left the shattered houses once built for them, yet neglected and unrecovered. 

I remember a trip to the Forbidden Palace in Beijing back in high school with all my buddies. There was an exhibition room in which you can see all the past images of the palace, different from each dynasties. Emperors had this habit of burning down everything from the last kingdom and rebuild their own on top of the original site. Thus the Forbidden Palace became a site of blood and tears of generations as well as glories and wealth. It's a surreal and indescribable sight, for you have no idea whether to sigh in melancholy or in awe.

Arch of Hadian

I'm in no position imagining if it'd be the same looking at the Greek ruins, but the trip ti the Forbidden Palace would be the closest thing I can think of to embody an experience like that. It's pointless to recreate ancient sights, at least I don't think it necessary. The ruins are the evidence of what human beings are capable of and premonitions of what could happen if we don't respect what is sacred and succumb to the desire of power.

I : XCIII A Wrap! To Be Continued...

The first part of Childe Harold's expedition wasn't the most uplifting and cheerful one. Many a place has he been to and many a sorrowful history has he recognized. Let us now pause and think about what we have seen through Harold's eyes: the flame of war, the love of people who love their countries and fought for their family, the beautiful and brutal culture in different corners of the world, and the equally beautiful living people everywhere. 

It's equally easy to destroy them all with just a little bit too much desire for power. Freedom comes with a great cost, but once you give the idea to the well deserving people, they will fight for it til the end.

It was certain that the poem will stir up some turbulence in the London society, especially since the war had still been going on when Byron sent this first canto to Dallas, his publisher at the time. Not the most patriotic piece of literature for an Englishman to be sure. Of course, the flourishing words and exotic scenes with such detailed descriptions in the poem helped to ease the controversy and tension.

Since this is a wrap for Canto the First of Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, shall we recount the top 5 important characters in Byron's life that got included in this poem?

1. His mother Catherine Byron 
2. His Half sister Augusta Leigh 
3. His page Rushton 
4. His valet Fletcher 
5. His best friend John Cam Hobhouse

Catherine Byron: The Idiotic Mother of The Poet

All teenagers throughout the entire universe who had a mother would understand this: Byron had an intense and interesting relationship with his mother, a plain, ignorant heiress who didn't know anything about raising a child or how to give him proper education. It was Byron himself who demanded to go to study, interesting after a tutor from America, or as he said, he would become a "dunce". His mother got a temper: sometimes shower her little boy with kisses, while at other times with scathing and pointless screaming. She had also been a fury and gave Byron much embarrassment at Harrow.

Still, Byron was devastated when she eventually died before the two of them meet again, right around the time Byron returned to England after the first voyage oversea. He wept and stayed at her bedside and called her his only friend. He was exaggerating about the only friend but...losing his closest, possibly only relative that had been in his life all his childhood was some kind of viscous experience for a twenty something young man.

Augusta Leigh: The Lovely Half Sister That Got Maybe A Little Too Close

George and Augusta didn't grow up together. Augusta was several years senior of George, being the laughter of "Mad Jack" Byron's daughter from his previous marriage. The siblings loved each other and the relationship went beyond the kind of intimacy between a brother and a sister. It's no longer certain whether the rumored illegitimate daughter Medora and really been Byron's or not, but Augusta had definitely been one of Byron's dearly beloved.

Rushton: The Page and The Boxing Buddy

Early in the canto a little page was mentioned. Rushton was Byron's boxing buddy aside from his usual page duties. Although lame, the poet was an excellent sportsman in several fields including boxing and cricket.

Fletcher: The Typical Loyal English Valet Who Got Grumpy at Sea 

Fletcher had a simple life before beging "forced" onboard with his master. He was a most loyal valet, although not happy about having to leave his wife and English beer behind. He was one of the few who stayed by Byron's side until the very end, as the travelling companions often change from time to time.

John Cam Hobhouse: The Travelling Companion and "Balancing Wheel" in Byron's Life

John Cam Hobhouse, one of the quartet from Cambridge. Davies, Matthews, Hobhouse and Byron were college buddies who were all into poetry. Later on Davies' gambling habit eventually caused his deportation, Matthews, an open homosexual which was quite uncommon in early 19th century even in the high society, drowned while swimming in River Cam three days after Byron's mother died. Hobhouse was the only conscientious one and ended up in Parliament. The moral of the story? You choose your own path, and getting in a good college doesn't mean you're set for life.

In the following Cantos there will be more characters from Byron's life: just like all the writers ever, he's got the habit of making parodies of real people in his literature, the best known example being making his wife Annabella Milbanke the mother of his later literary hero Don Juan.

I : LXXXIX - XCII Spain: A History of Violence

The Spaniards, the French and the Dutch all helped America during the Revolutionary War. On the 3rd of Sep. 1783, The Treaty of Paris ended the tedious war that crossed several continents and prolonged for almost a decade after United States had already declared its independence on 4th of July, 1776, the glorious date that you're supposed to remember as long as you're a citizen of planet earth and believe in liberty of humanity. Anyway, it almost seemed to me that the American Revolutionary War inspired the French Revolution, which broke out as early as in 1791, although most of us attributed the year of 1793 of more importance during the progress of the war, during which a young Napoleon Bonaparte proved his worth for the first time. 

Everything that happened was connected, dare I say, especially since the world is getting smaller as men's ambition and thirst for power grows infinitely bigger, and of course, communication is made more convenient. The rise of Lady Liberty indubitably influenced the entirety of western civilization. (The statue physically rose in 1886 but since it's commemorating 1776 in the first place, let's pretend that Lady Liberty had already been there in spirit.)

A modern personification of United States (Columbia) during WWI 

Columbia had been the name for a land with which we associate freedom, after the guy who discovered her of course, Christopher Columbus, whose accomplishment initiated the Spanish colonization of the new world. 

So why is that part of the history relevant to our subject of discussion now? Obviously there's the connection of the Spanish Empire, but it's far more than just a name. The War of Pyrenees, or better known as the Great War, pitted the first coalition during the French Revolutionary Wars. After the initial outbreak in January, France got in full on attack mode and in two months' time, decided to break up with her long-term-ally Spain. Spain was miserably defeated. 

Francisco Pizarro

There's almost a bitterness in the poet's tone. Francisco, Gonzalo, Juan and Hernando, those are the names of the Pizarro brothers, their reign in Peru was quite short (1531-1538) but still a major part in the Spanish conquest of the new world, Quito (The Royal Audience of Quito) being a part of it, was established in 1563, ruling most parts of Ecuador, northern Peru, southern Columbia and some part of Brazil. 

And now? Spain is under attack! It's all cause and effect says the poet. 

There are three major battles mentioned in Stanza 90, all of which violent and none can draw a conclusion to the never-ending conflicts. Wellesley gradually becomes a name almost as big as Napoleon, who would eventually defeat the legendary French modern Achilles, Byron's personal hero.

• Battle of Talavera Think France, Spain and Britain as three gambler in Vegas. No matter what the statistics say in  the end, the biggest winner will always, did I say ALWAYS, be the house. Death was hosting the game this time, seizing his prize from all sides, with France losing the most at the battle of Talavera. Previously I mentioned this battle in The Inglorious Three, with Byron's descriptive and heart wrenching stanzas (around XLI) telling the tale of devastation.

• Battle of Barrossa This was a pointless one: that day in March 1811, the ally of Britain, Portugal and Spain trying to lift the siege of Cadiz against France and the battle of Barrossa broke. Technically they won, according to numbers and what not, but Cadiz remained under French control until more than a year later. French Marshal Claude Victor was even able to bargain a partial victory. Of course in war if the two sides both won it also meant that they both lost. Again, the grave played the house.

• Battle of Albuera Elaborated in stanza XLIII, (again, reference The Inglorious Three) the battle of Albuera was called the bloodiest of all during Peninsular War. Not only did it fail to lift the siege of Badajoz, it wounded the relationship between Spain and Britain, for it was said that Britain didn't play hard enough.

Marshal Claude Victor

All those struggles and all those lives lost, sill Spain didn't get her freedom and peace. It's such a tiresome and emotionally draining thing to do looking at the timeline of the war, for you see how people just so too far and plant so many seeds of evil over something rather trivial.

It is very hard to look at things the same way again after you've read lots about history. Sometimes, most of the time, we repeat the same mistakes our ancestors did. All the lost glory of past civilization was the cost of a transient vanity.

For Childe Harold, this has been a trip of personal growth. At this point, the boy who lamented the fall of his family estate is thinking about something much bigger. When you've climbed mountains and watched the rise and fall of nations, you would start to realize the frivolity of what you thought you held so dear.