We arrived in London [September 28,] after a long and painful journey, the weakness of my limbs palpably increasing, and the physic prescribed making me weaker every day. Lockhart, poor fellow, is as attentive as possible, and I have, thank God, no pain whatever; could the end be as easy it would be too happy. I fancy the instances of Euthanasia are not very uncommon. Instances there certainly are among the learned and the unlearned—Dr.

Black, Tom Purdie. I should wish, if it please God, to sleep off in such a quiet way; but we must take what Fate sends. I have not warm hopes of being myself again.

Wordsworth and his daughter, a fine girl, were with us on the last day. I tried to write in her diary, and made an ill-favoured botch—no help for it. "Stitches will wear, and ill ones will out," as the tailor says.[467]

[October 8, London.]—The King has located me on board the Barham, with my suite, consisting of my eldest son, youngest daughter, and perhaps my daughter-in-law, which, with poor Charles, will make a goodly tail. I fancy the head of this tail cuts a poor figure, scarce able to stir about.

The town is in a foam with politics. The report is that the Lords will throw out the Bill, and now, morning of 8th October, I learn it is quoited downstairs like a shovel-board shilling, with a plague to it, as the most uncalled-for attack upon a free constitution, under which men lived happily, which ever was ventured in my day. Well, it would have been pleasing to have had some share in so great a victory, yet even now I am glad I have been quiet. I believe I should only have made a bad figure. Well, I will have time enough to think of all this.

October 9.—The report to-day is that the Chancellor[468] will unite with the Duke of Wellington and Sir Robert Peel to bring in a Bill of his own concocting, modified to the taste of the other two, with which some think they will be satisfied. This is not very unlikely, for Lord Brougham has been displeased with not having been admitted to Lord John Russell's task of bill-drawing. He is a man of unbounded ambition, as well as unbounded talent and [uncertain] temper. There have been hosts of people here, particularly the Duke of Buccleuch, to ask me to the christening of his son and heir, when the King stands godfather. I am asked as an ally and friend of the family, which makes the compliment greater. Singular that I should have stood godfather to this Duke himself, representing some great man.

October 10.—Yesterday we dined alone, so I had an opportunity of speaking seriously to John; but I fear procrastination. It is the cry of Friar Bacon's Brazen head, time is—time was; but the time may soon come—time shall be no more. The Whigs are not very bold, not much above a hundred met to support Lord Grey to the last. Their resolutions are moderate, probably because they could not have carried stronger. I went to breakfast at Sir Robert Henry Inglis', and coming home about twelve found the mob rising in the Regent's Park, and roaring for Reform as rationally as a party of Angusshire cattle would have done.

Sophia seemed to act as the jolly host in the play. "These are my windows," and, shutting the shutters, "let them batter—I care not serving the good Duke of Norfolk." After a time they passed out of our sight, hurrying doubtless to seek a more active scene of reformation. As the night closed, the citizens who had hitherto contented themselves with shouting, became more active, and when it grew dark set forth to make work for the glaziers.

October 11, Tuesday.—We set out in the morning to breakfast with Lady Gifford. We passed several glorious specimens of the last night's feats of the reformers. The Duke of Newcastle's and Lord Dudley's houses were sufficiently broken. The maidens, however, had resisted, and from the top of the house with coals, which had greatly embarrassed the assembled mob. Surely if the people are determined on using a right so questionable, and the Government resolved to consider it as too sacred to be resisted, some modes of resistance might be resorted to of a character more ludicrous than firearms,—coals, for example, scalding oil, boiling water, or some other mode of defence against a sudden attack. We breakfasted with a very pleasant party at Lady Gifford's. I was particularly happy to meet Lord Sidmouth; at seventy-five, he tells me, as much in health and spirits as at sixty. I also met Captain Basil Hall, to whom I owe so much for promoting my retreat in so easy a manner. I found my appointment to the Barham had been pointed out by Captain Henry Duncan, R.N., as being a measure which would be particularly agreeable to the officers of the service. This is too high a compliment. In returning I called to see the repairs at Lambeth, which are proceeding under the able direction of Blore, who met me there. They are in the best Gothic taste, and executed at the expense of a large sum, to be secured by way of mortgage, payable in fifty years; each incumbent within the time paying a proportion of about L4000 a year. I was pleased to see this splendour of church architecture returning again.

Lord Mahon, a very amiable as well as a clever young man, comes to dinner with Mr. Croker; Lady Louisa Stuart in the afternoon, or, more properly, at night.

October 12.—Misty morning—looks like a yellow fog, which is the curse of London. I would hardly take my share of it for a share of its wealth and its curiosity—a vile double-distilled fog of the most intolerable kind. Children scarce stirring yet, but baby and the Macaw beginning their Macaw notes. Among other feats of the mob on Monday, a gentleman who saw the onslaught told me two men got on Lord Londonderry's carriage and struck him; the chief constable came to the rescue and belaboured the rascals, who ran and roared. I should have liked to have seen the onslaught—Dry beating, and plenty of it, is a great operator of a reform among these gentry. At the same time Lord Londonderry is a brain-sick man, very unlike his brother. He horsewhipped a sentinel under arms at Vienna for obeying his consigne, which was madness. On the other side all seems to be prepared. Heavy bodies of the police are stationed in all the squares and places supporting each other regularly. The men themselves say that their numbers amount to 3000, and that they are supported by troops in still greater numbers, so that the Conservative force is sufficiently strong. Four o'clock—a letter from the Duke saying the party is put off by command of the King, and probably the day will be put off until the Duke's return from Scotland, so our hopes of seeing the fine ceremony are all ended.

October 13.—Nocte pluit tota—an excellent recipe for a mob, so they have been quiet accordingly, as we are informed. Two or three other wet nights would do much to weary them out with inactivity. Milman, whom I remember a fine gentlemanlike young man, dined here yesterday. He says the fires have never ceased in his country, but that the oppressions and sufferings occasioned by the poor's rates are very great, and there is no persuading the English farmer that an amended system is comfortable both for rich and poor. The plan of ministers is to keep their places maugre Peers and Commons both, while they have the countenance of the crown; but if a Prince shelters, by authority of the prerogative, ministers against the will of the other authority of the state, does he not quit the defence which supposes he can do no wrong? This doctrine would make a curious change of parties. Will they attempt to legitimize the Fitz Clarences? God forbid! Yet it may end in that,—it would be Paris all over. The family is said to have popular qualities. Then what would be the remedy? Marry! seize on the person of the Princess Victoria, carrying her north and setting up the banner of England with the Duke of W. as dictator! Well, I am too old to fight, and therefore should keep the windy side of the law; besides, I shall be buried before times come to a decision. In the meantime the King dare not go to stand godfather to the son of one of his most powerful peers, a party of his own making, lest his loving subjects pull the house about the ears of his noble host and the company invited to meet him. Their loyalty has a pleasant way of displaying itself. I will go to Westminster after breakfast and see what people are saying, and whether the Barham is likely to sail, or whether its course is not altered to the coast of the Low Countries instead of the Mediterranean.

October 14.—Tried to walk to Lady Louisa Stuart's, but took a little vertigo and came back. Much disturbed by a letter from Walter. He is like to be sent on an obnoxious service with very inadequate force, little prospect of thanks if he does his duty, and much of blame if he is unable to accomplish it. I have little doubt he will ware his mother's calf-skin on them.

The manufacturing districts are in great danger. London seems pretty secure. Sent off the revise of introduction to Mr. Cadell.[469]

October 16.—A letter from Walter with better news. He has been at hard-heads with the rogues and come off with advantage; in short, practised with success the art of drawing two souls out of one weaver.[470] All seems quiet now, and I suppose the Major will get his leave as proposed. Two ladies—[one] Byron's Mary Chaworth—have been frightened to death while the mob tore the dying creatures from their beds and proposed to throw them into the flames, drank the wine, destroyed the furniture, and committed other excesses of a jacquerie.[471] They have been put down, however, by a strong force of yeomanry and regulars. Walter says the soldiers fired over the people's heads, whereas if they had levelled low, the bullets must have told more among the multitude. I cannot approve of this, for in such cases severity is ultimate mercy.[472] However, if they have made a sufficient impression to be striking—why, enough is as good as a feast.

There is a strange story about town of ghost-seeing vouched by Lord Prudhoe, a near relation of the Duke of Northumberland, and whom I know as an honourable man. A colonel described as a cool-headed sensible man of worth and honour, Palgrave, who dined with us yesterday, told us twice over the story as vouched by Lord Prudhoe, and Lockhart gave us Colonel Felix's edition, which coincided exactly. I will endeavour to extract the essence of both. While at Grand Cairo they were attracted by the report of a physician who could do the most singular magical feats, and was in the habit not only of relieving the living, but calling up the dead. This sage was the member of a tribe in the interior part of Africa. They were some time (two years) in finding him out, for he by no means pressed himself on the curious, nor did he on the other hand avoid them; but when he came to Grand Cairo readily agreed to gratify them by a sight of his wonders. The scenes exhibited were not visible to the operator himself, nor to the person for whose satisfaction they were called up, but, as in the case of Dr. Dee and other adepts, by means of a viewer, an ignorant Nubian boy, whom, to prevent imposition, the English gentlemen selected for the purpose, and, as they thought, without any risk of imposture by confederacy betwixt him and the physician. The process was as follows:—A black square was drawn in the palm of the boy's hand, or rather a kind of pentacle with an Arabic character inscribed at each angle. The figures evoked were seen through this space as if the substance of the hand had been removed. Magic rites, and particularly perfumes, were liberally resorted to. After some fumigation the magician declared that they could not proceed until the seven flags should become visible. The boy declared he saw nothing, then said he saw a flag, then two; often hesitated at the number for a certain time, and on several occasions the spell did not work and the operation went no further, but in general the boy saw the seven flags through the aperture in his hand. The magician then said they must call the Sultan, and the boy said he saw a splendid tent fixed, surrounded by immense hosts, Eblis no doubt, and his angels. The person evoked was then named, and appeared accordingly. The only indispensable requisite was that he was named speedily, for the Sultan did not like to be kept waiting. Accordingly, William Shakespeare being named, the boy declared that he saw a Frank in a dress which he described as that of the reign of Elizabeth or her successor, having a singular countenance, a high forehead, and a very little beard. Another time a brother of the Colonel was named. The boy said he saw a Frank in his uniform dress and a black groom behind him leading a superb horse. The dress was a red jacket and white pantaloons; and the principal figure turning round, the boy announced that he wanted his arm, as was the case with Felix's brother. The ceremony was repeated fourteen times; successfully in twelve instances, and in two it failed from non-appearance of the seven banners in the first instance. The apparent frankness of the operator was not the least surprising part of the affair. He made no mystery, said he possessed this power by inheritance, as a family gift; yet that he could teach it, and was willing to do so, for no enormous sum—nay, one which seemed very moderate. I think two gentlemen embraced the offer. One of them is dead and the other still abroad. The sage also took a price for the exhibition of his skill, but it was a moderate one, being regulated by the extent of the perfumes consumed in the ceremony.

There remains much more to ask I understood the witnesses do not like to bother about, which is very natural. One would like to know a little more of the Sultan, of the care taken to secure the fidelity of the boy who was the viewer and on whom so much depended; whether another sage practising the same feat, as it was said to be hereditary, was ever known to practise in the city. The truth of a story irreconcilable with the common course of nature must depend on cross-examination. If we should find, while at Malta, that we had an opportunity of expiscating this matter, though at the expense of a voyage to Alexandria, it would hardly deter me.[473] The girls go to the Chapel Royal this morning at St. James's. A visit from the Honourable John Forbes, son of my old and early friend Lord Forbes, who is our fellow-passenger. The ship expects presently to go to sea. I was very glad to see this young officer and to hear his news. Drummond and I have been Mends from our infancy.

October 17.—The morning beautiful. To-day I go to look after the transcripts in the Museum and have a card to see a set of chessmen[474] thrown up by the sea on the coast of Scotland, which were offered to sale for L100. The King, Queen, Knights, etc., were in the costume of the 14th century, the substance ivory or rather the tusk of the morse, somewhat injured by the salt water in which they had been immersed for some time.

Sir John Malcolm told us a story about Garrick and his wife. The lady admired her husband greatly, but blamed him for a taste for low life, and insisted that he loved better to play Scrub to a low-lifed audience than one of his superior characters before an audience of taste. On one particular occasion she was in her box in the theatre. Richard III. was the performance, and Garrick's acting, especially in the night scene, drew down universal applause. After the play was over Mrs. G. proposed going home, which Garrick declined, alleging he had some business in the green-room, which must detain him. In short, the lady was obliged to acquiesce, and wait the beginning of a new entertainment, in which was introduced a farmer giving his neighbours an account of the wonders seen on a visit to London. This character was received with such peals of applause that Mrs. Garrick began to think it rivalled those which had been so lately lavished on Richard the Third. At last she observed her little spaniel dog was making efforts to get towards the balcony which separated him from the facetious farmer. Then she became aware of the truth. "How strange," she said, "that a dog should know his master, and a woman, in the same circumstances, should not recognise her husband!"

October 18.—Sophia had a small but lively party last night, as indeed she has had every night since we were here—Ladies—[Lady Stafford,] Lady Louisa Stuart, Lady Montagu, Miss Montagu, Lady [Davy], [Mrs.] Macleod, and two or three others; Gentlemen—Lord Montagu, Macleod, Lord Dudley, Rogers [Mackintosh]. A good deal of singing. If Sophia keeps to early hours she may beat London for small parties as poor Miss White did, and without much expense. A little address is all that is necessary. Sir John[475] insists on my meeting this Rammohun Roy;[476] I am no believer in his wandering knight, so far. The time is gone of sages who travelled to collect wisdom as well as heroes to reap honour. Men think and fight for money. I won't see the man if I can help it. Flatterers are difficult enough to keep at a distance though they be no renegades. I hate a fellow who begins with throwing away his own religion, and then affects a prodigious respect for another.

October 19.—Captain H. Duncan called with Captain Pigot, a smart-looking gentlemanlike man, and announces his purpose of sailing on Monday. I have made my preparations for being on board on Sunday, which is the day appointed. Captain Duncan told me jocularly never to take a naval captain's word on shore, and quoted Sir William Scott, who used to say, waggishly, that there was nothing so accommodating as a naval captain on shore; but when on board he became a peremptory lion. Henry Duncan has behaved very kindly, and says he only discharges the wishes of his service in making me as easy as possible, which is very handsome. No danger of feud, except about politics, which would be impolite on my part, and though it bars out one great subject of discourse, it leaves enough besides. That I might have nothing doubtful, Walter arrives with his wife, ready to sail, so what little remains must be done without loss of time. This is our last morning, so I have money to draw for and pay away. To see our dear Lord Montagu too. The Duchess came yesterday. I suppose L50 will clear me, with some balance for Gibraltar.

I leave this country uncertain if it has got a total pardon or only a reprieve. I won't think of it, as I can do no good. It seems to be in one of those crises by which Providence reduces nations to their original elements.[477] If I had my health, I should take no worldly fee, not to be in the bustle; but I am as weak as water, and I shall be glad when I have put the Mediterranean between the island and me.

October 21 and 22.—Spent in taking of farewell and adieus, which had been put off till now. A melancholy ceremonial, with some a useless one; yet there are friends whom it sincerely touches one to part with. It is the cement of life giving way in a moment. Another unpleasant circumstance is—one is called upon to recollect those whom death or estrangement has severed, after starting merrily together in the voyage of life.

October 23.—Portsmouth; arrived here in the evening. Found the Barham will not sail till 26th October, that is Wednesday next. The girls break loose, mad with the craze of seeing sights, and run the risk of our losing some of our things and deranging the naval officers, who offer their services with their natural gallantry. Captain Pigot came to breakfast, with several other officials. The girls contrived to secure a sight of the Block manufactory, together with that of the Biscuit, also invented by Brunel. I think that I have seen the first of these wonderful [sights] in 1816, or about that time.[478] Sir Thomas Foley gives an entertainment to the Admiralty, and sends to invite [me]; but I pleaded health, and remained at home. Neither will I go out sight-seeing, which madness seems to have seized my womankind. This ancient town is one of the few in England which is fortified, and which gives it a peculiar appearance. It is much surrounded with heaths or thin poor muirs covered with heather, very barren, yet capable of being converted into rich arable and pasturage. I would [not] desire a better estate than to have 2000 acres which would be worth 40 shillings an acre.

October 24.—My womankind are gone out with Walter and Captain Hall. I wish they would be moderate in their demands on people's complaisance. They little know how inconvenient are such seizures. A sailor is in particular a bad refuser, and before he can turn three times round, he is bound with a triple knot to all kinds of [engagements]. The wind is west, that is to say contrary, so our sailing on the day after to-morrow is highly doubtful.

October 25.—A gloomy October day, the wind inflexibly constant in the west, which is fatal. Sir James Graham proposes to wait upon us after breakfast. A trouble occurs about my taking an oath before a master-extraordinary in Chancery; but such cannot easily be found, as they reside in chambers in town, and rusticate after business, so they are difficult to catch as an eel. At ten my children set off to the dockyard, which is a most prodigious effort of machinery, and they are promised the sight of an anchor in the act of being forged, a most cyclopean sight. Walter is to call upon the solicitor and appoint him to be with [me] by twelve.

About the reign of Henry VIII. the French took the pile, as it was called, of——,[479] but were beat off. About the end of the American war, an individual named John Aitken, or John the Painter, undertook to set the dockyard on fire, and in some degree accomplished his purpose. He had no accomplice, and to support himself committed solitary robberies. Being discovered, he long hung in chains near the outward fortifications. Last night a deputation of the Literary and Philosophical Society of [Portsmouth] came to present me with the honorary freedom of their body, which I accepted with becoming gratitude. There is little credit in gathering the name of a disabled invalid. Here I am, going a long and curious tour without ability to walk a quarter of a mile; quere, what hope of recovery? I think and think in vain, when attempting to trace the progress of this disease and so gradually has my health declined, that I believe it has been acting upon me for ten years, gradually diminishing my strength. My mental faculties may perhaps recover; my bodily strength cannot return unless climate has an effect on the human frame which I cannot possibly believe or comprehend. The safe resolution is, to try no foolish experiments, but make myself as easy as I can, without suffering myself to be vexed about what I cannot help. If I sit on the deck and look at Vesuvius, it will be all I ought to think of.

Having mentioned John the Painter, I may add that it was in this town of Portsmouth that the Duke of Buckingham was stabbed to death by Felton, a fanatic of the same kind with the Incendiary, though perpetrator of a more manly crime. This monster-breeding age can afford both Feltons and John Aitkens in abundance. Every village supplies them, while in fact a deep feeling of the coarsest selfishness furnishes the ruling motive, instead of an affectation of public spirit—that hackneyed affectation of patriotism, as like the reality as a Birmingham halfpenny to a guinea.

The girls, I regret to see, have got a senseless custom of talking politics in all weathers and in all sorts of company. This can do no good, and may give much offence. Silence can offend no one, and there are pleasanter or less irritating subjects to talk of. I gave them both a hint of this, and bid them both remember they were among ordinary strangers. How little young people reflect what they may win or lose by a smart reflection imprudently fired off at a venture!

Mr. Barrow of the Admiralty came and told us the whole fleet, Barham excepted, were ordered to the North Sea to help to bully the King of Holland, and that Captain Pigot, whose motions are of more importance to us than those of the whole British Navy, sails, as certainly as these things can be prophesied, on Thursday, 27th October.

October 26.—Here we still are, fixed by the inexorable wind. Yesterday we asked a few old friends, Mr. and Mrs. Osborne, and two or three others, to tea and talk. I engaged in a new novel, by Mr. Smith,[480] called New Forest. It is written in an old style, calculated to meet the popular ideas—somewhat like "Man as he is not"[481] and that class. The author's opinions seem rather to sit loose upon him and to be adopted for the nonce and not very well brought out. His idea of a hero is an American philosopher with all the affected virtues of a Republican which no man believes in.

This is very tiresome—not to be able to walk abroad for an instant, but to be kept in this old house which they call "The Fountain," a mansion made of wood in imitation of a ship. The timbers were well tried last night during the squall. The barometer has sunk an inch very suddenly, which seems to argue a change, and probably a deliverance from port. Sir Michael Seymour, Mr. Harris, Captain Lawrence came to greet us after breakfast; also Sir James Graham. They were all learned on this change of weather which seems to be generally expected. I had a good mess of Tory chat with Mr. Harris. We hope to see his daughters in the evening. He keeps his courage amid the despair of too many of his party. About one o'clock our Kofle, as Mungo Park words it, set out, self excluded, to witness the fleet sailing from the ramparts.

October 27.—The weather is more moderate and there is a chance of our sailing. We whiled away our time as we could, relieved by several kind visits. We realised the sense of hopeless expectation described by Fielding in his Voyage to Lisbon, which identical tract Captain Hall, who in his eagerness to be kind seems in possession of the wishing-cap of Fortunatus, was able to provide for us. To-morrow is spoken of as certainly a day to move.

October 28.—But the wind is as unfavourable as ever and I take a hobbling morning walk upon the rampart, where I am edified by a good-natured officer who shows me the place, marked by a buoy, where the Royal George went down "with twice four hundred men."[482] Its hull forms a shoal which is still in existence, a neglect scarcely reconcilable with the splendour of our proceedings where our navy is concerned. Saw a battle on the rampart between two sailor boys, who fought like game-cocks. Returned to "The Fountain," to a voluminous breakfast. Captain Pigot calls, with little hope of sailing to-day. I made my civil affidavit yesterday to a master extraordinary in Chancery, which I gave to Sophia last night.

October 29 (The Barham).—The weather is changed and I think we shall sail. Captain Forbes comes with offer of the Admiral Sir Michael Seymour's barge, but we must pause on our answer. I have had a very disturbed night. Captain Pigot's summons is at length brought by his own announcement, and the same time the Admiral's barge attends for our accommodation and puts us and our baggage on board the Barham, a beautiful ship, a 74 cut down to a 50, and well deserving all the commendations bestowed on her. The weather a calm which is almost equal to a favourable wind, so we glide beautifully along by the Isle of Wight and the outside of the island. We landsfolk feel these queerish sensations, when, without being in the least sick, we are not quite well. We dine enormously and take our cot at nine o'clock, when we sleep undisturbed till seven.

October 30.—Find the Bill of Portland in sight, having run about forty miles during the night. About the middle of the day turn sea-sick and retire to my berth for the rest of the evening.

October 31.—A sleepless night and a bilious morning, yet not so very uncomfortable as the phrase may imply. The bolts clashed, and made me dream of poor Bran. The wind being nearly completely contrary, we have by ten o'clock gained Plymouth and of course will stand westward for Cape Finisterre; terrible tossing and much sea-sickness, beating our passage against the turn. I may as well say we had a parting visit from Lady Graham, who came off in a steamer, saluted us in the distance and gave us by signal her "bon voyage." On Sunday we had prayers and Service from Mr. Marshall, our Chaplain, a Trinity College youth, who made a very respectable figure.

FOOTNOTES:

[465] See "Ellandonan Castle," in the Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, Scott's Poetical Works, vol. iv. p. 361.

[466] Now the Bishop of St. Andrews. As has been already said, Wordsworth arrived on the 19th and left on the 22d September, i.e. the visit lasted from Monday till Thursday. There are no dates in the Journal between May 25 and October 8, but Wordsworth says, "At noon on Thursday we left Abbotsford, and on the morning of that day Sir Walter and I had a serious conversation tete-a-tete, when he spoke with gratitude of the happy life which upon the whole he had led."—Knight's Wordsworth, vol. iii. p. 201.

[467] Wordsworth notes that on placing the volume in his daughter's hand, Sir Walter said, "I should not have done anything of this kind but for your father's sake; they are probably the last verses I shall ever write."—Knight's Wordsworth, vol. iii. p. 201.

[468] Lord Brougham.

[469] The introductory address to Count Robert of Paris bears the date October 15th, 1831.

[470] Twelfth Night, Act II. Sc. 3.

[471] See Moore's edition of Byron's Works, vol. vii. pp. 43-44, note.

[472] Scott's views received strong confirmation a few days later at Bristol, where the authorities, through mistaken humanity, hesitated to order the military to act.

[473] At Malta, accordingly, we find Sir Walter making inquiry regarding this Arabian conjurer, and writing to Mr. Lockhart, on Nov. 1831, in the following terms:—

"I have got a key to the conjuring story of Alexandria and Grand Cairo. I have seen very distinct letters of Sir John Stoddart's son, who attended three of the formal exhibitions which broke down, though they were repeated afterwards with success. Young Stoddart is an excellent Arabian scholar—an advantage which I understand is more imperfectly enjoyed by Lord Prudhoe and Colonel Felix. Much remains to be explained, but the boldness of the attempt exceeds anything since the days of the Automaton chess-player, or the Bottle conjurer. The first time Shakespeare was evoked he appeared in the complexion of an Arab. This seems to have been owing to the first syllable of his name, which resembled the Arabian word Sheik, and suggested the idea of an Arabian chief to the conjurer. A gentleman named Galloway has bought the secret, and talks of being frightened. There can be little doubt that, having so far interested himself, it would become his interest to put the conjurer more up to the questions likely to be asked. So he was more perfect when consulted by Lord Prudhoe than at first, when he made various blunders, and when we must needs say falsum in uno falsum in omnibus. As all this will come out one day, I have no wish to mingle in the controversy.... There are still many things to explain, but I think the mystery is unearthed completely."

See also Lane's Egyptians for an account of what appears to be the same man in 1837. Also Quarterly Review, No. 117, pp. 196-208, for an examination of this "Magic Mirror" exhibition.

[474] A hoard of seventy-eight chessmen found in the island of Lewis in 1831. The greater number of the figures were purchased for the British Museum, and formed the subject of a learned dissertation by Sir Frederick Madden; see Archaeologia, xxiv. Eleven of these very interesting pieces fell into the hands of Scott's friend, C.K. Sharpe, and afterwards of Lord Londesborough. More recently these identical pieces were purchased for the Museum of Antiquities, Edinburgh, where they now are. See Proc. Soc. Antiq., vol. xxiii.

[475] Sir John Malcolm, who was at this time M.P. for Launceston. His last public appearance was in London, at a meeting convened for the purpose of raising a monument of his friend Sir Walter, and his concluding words were, that when he himself "was gone, his son might be proud to say that his father had been among the contributors to that shrine of genius." Sir John was struck down by paralysis on the following day, and died in May 1833.

[476] The celebrated Brahmin philosopher and theist; born in Bengal about 1774, died at Stapleton Grove, near Bristol, September 27, 1833.

[477] Sir Walter's fears for the country were also shared by some of the wisest men in it. The Duke of Wellington, it is well known, was most desponding, and he anticipated greater horror from a convulsion here than in any other European nation.

Talleyrand said to the Duke during the Reform Bill troubles, "Duke of Wellington, you have seen a great deal of the world. Can you point out to me any one place in Europe where an old man could go to and be quite sure of being safe and dying in peace?"—Stanhope Notes, p. 224.

[478] See Mr. Charles Cowan's privately printed Reminiscences for Scott's recollections of his visit to Portsmouth in 1816, and his stories, of the wonders he had seen, to the little boy at his side.

[479] Compare Froude's History, vol. iv. p. 424.

[480] Mr. Horace Smith, one of the authors of Rejected Addresses.

[481] An anonymous novel, published some years earlier in 4 vols. 12mo.

[482] Cowper's Monody.



NOVEMBER.

November 1.—The night was less dismal than yesterday, and we hold our course, though with an unfavourable wind, and make, it is said, about forty miles progress. After all, this sort of navigation recommends the steamer, which forces its way whether the breeze will or no.

November 2.—Wind as cross as two sticks, with nasty squalls of wind and rain. We keep dodging about the Lizard and Land's End without ever getting out of sight of these interesting terminations of Old England. Keep the deck the whole day though bitter cold. Betake myself to my berth at nine, though it is liker to my coffin.

November 3.—Sea-sickness has pretty much left us, but the nights are far from voluptuous, as Lord Stowell says. After breakfast I established myself in the after-cabin to read and write as well as I can, whereof this is a bad specimen.

November 4.—The current unfavourable, and the ship pitching a great deal; yet the vessel on the whole keeps her course, and we get on our way with hope of reaching Cape Finisterre when it shall please God.

November 5.—We still creep on this petty pace from day to day without being able to make way, but also without losing any. Meanwhile, Froehlich! we become freed from the nausea and disgust of the sea-sickness and are chirruping merrily. Spend the daylight chiefly on deck, where the sailors are trained in exercising the great guns on a new sort of carriage called, from the inventor, Marshall's, which seems ingenious.

November 6.—No progress to-day; the ship begins to lay her course but makes no great way. Appetite of the passengers excellent, which we amuse at the expense of the sea stock. Cold beef and biscuit. I feel myself very helpless on board, but everybody is ready to assist me.

November 7.—The wind still holds fair, though far from blowing steadily, but by fits and variably. No object to look at—

"One wide water all around us, All above us one 'grey' sky."[483]

There are neither birds in the air, fish in the sea, nor objects on face of the waters. It is odd that though once so great a smoker I now never think on a cigar; so much the better.

November 8.—As we begin to get southward we feel a milder and more pleasing temperature, and the wind becomes decidedly favourable when we have nearly traversed the famous Bay of Biscay. We now get into a sort of trade wind blowing from the East.

November 9.—This morning run seventy miles from twelve at night. This is something like going. Till now, bating the rolling and pitching, we lay

"... as idle as a painted ship Upon a painted ocean."

November 10.—Wind changes and is both mild and favourable. We pass Cape Ortegal, see a wild cluster of skerries or naked rocks called Berlingas rising out of the sea like M'Leod's Maidens off the Isle of Skye.

November 11.—Wind still more moderate and fair, yet it is about eleven knots an hour. We pass Oporto and Lisbon in the night. See the coast of Portugal: a bare wild country, with here and there a church or convent. If it keeps fair this evening we [make] Gibraltar, which would be very desirable. Our sailors have been exercised at a species of sword exercise, which recalls many recollections.

November 12.—The favourable wind gets back to its quarters in the south-west, and becomes what the Italians call the Sirocco, abominated for its debilitating qualities. I cannot say I feel them, but I dreamt dreary dreams all night, which are probably to be imputed to the Sirocco. After all, it is not an uncomfortable wind to a Caledonian wild and stern. Ink won't serve.

November 13.—The wind continues unaccommodating all night, and we see nothing, although we promised ourselves to have seen Gibraltar, or at least Tangiers, this morning, but we are disappointed of both. Tangiers reminded me of my old Antiquarian friend Auriol Hay Drummond, who is Consul there.[484] Certainly if a human voice could have made its hail heard through a league or two of contending wind and wave, it must have been Auriol Drummond's. I remember him at a dinner given by some of his friends when he left Edinburgh, where he discharged a noble part "self pulling like Captain Crowe 'for dear life, for dear life' against the whole boat's crew," speaking, that is, against 30 members of a drunken company and maintaining the predominance. Mons Meg was at that time his idol. He had a sort of avarice of proper names, and, besides half a dozen which were his legitimately, he had a claim to be called Garvadh, which uncouth appellation he claimed on no very good authority to be the ancient name of the Hays—a tale. I loved him dearly; he had high spirits, a zealous faith, good-humour, and enthusiasm, and it grieves me that I must pass within ten miles of him and leave him unsaluted; for mercy-a-ged what a yell of gratitude would there be! I would put up with a good rough gale which would force us into Tangiers and keep us there for a week, but the wind is only in gentle opposition, like a well-drilled spouse. Gibraltar we shall see this evening, Tangiers becomes out of the question. Captain says we will lie by during the night, sooner than darkness shall devour such an object of curiosity, so we must look sharp for the old rock.

November 14.—The horizon is this morning full of remembrances. Cape St. Vincent, Cape Spartel, Tarifa, Trafalgar—all spirit-stirring sounds, are within our ken, and recognised with enthusiasm both by the old sailors whose memory can reinvest them with their terrors, and by the naval neophytes who hope to emulate the deeds of their fathers. Even a non-combatant like myself feels his heart beat faster and fuller, though it is only with the feeling of the unworthy boast of the substance in the fable, nos poma natamus.

I begin to ask myself, Do I feel any symptoms of getting better from the climate?—which is delicious,—and I cannot reply with the least consciousness of certainty; I cannot in reason expect it should be otherwise: the failure of my limbs has been gradual, and it cannot be expected that an infirmity which at least a year's bad weather gradually brought on should diminish before a few mild and serene days, but I think there is some change to the better; I certainly write easier and my spirits are better. The officers compliment me on this, and I think justly. The difficulty will be to abstain from working hard, but we will try. I wrote to Mr. Cadell to-day, and will send my letter ashore to be put into Gibraltar with the officer who leaves us at that garrison. In the evening we saw the celebrated fortress, which we had heard of all our lives, and which there is no possibility of describing well in words, though the idea I had formed of it from prints, panoramas, and so forth, proved not very inaccurate. Gibraltar, then, is a peninsula having a tremendous precipice on the Spanish side—that is, upon the north, where it is united to the mainland by a low slip of land called the neutral ground. The fortifications which rise on the rock are innumerable, and support each other in a manner accounted a model of modern art; the northern face of the rock itself is hewn into tremendous subterranean batteries called the hall of Saint George, and so forth, mounted with guns of a large calibre. But I have heard it would be difficult to use them, from the effect of the report on the artillerymen. The west side of the fortress is not so precipitous as the north, and it is on this it has been usually assailed. It bristles with guns and batteries, and has at its northern extremity the town of Gibraltar, which seems from the sea a thriving place, and from thence declines gradually to Cape Europa, where there is a great number of remains of old caverns and towers, formerly the habitation or refuge of the Moors. At a distance, and curving into a bay, lie Algeciras, and the little Spanish town of Saint Roque, where the Spanish lines were planted during the siege.[485] From Europa Point the eastern frontier of Gibraltar runs pretty close to the sea, and arises in a perpendicular face, and it is called the back of the rock. No thought could be entertained of attacking it, although every means were used to make the assault as general as possible. The efforts sustained by such extraordinary means as the floating batteries were entirely directed against the defences on the west side, which, if they could have been continued for a few days with the same fury with which they commenced, must have worn out the force of the garrison. The assault had continued for several hours without success on either side, when a private man of the artillery, his eye on the floating batteries, suddenly called with ecstasy, "She burns, by G——!";[486] and first that vessel and then others were visibly discovered to be on fire, and the besiegers' game was decidedly up.

We stood into the Bay of Gibraltar and approached the harbour firing a gun and hoisting a signal for a boat: one accordingly came off—a man-of-war's boat—but refused to have any communication with us on account of the quarantine, so we can send no letters ashore, and after some pourparlers, Mr. L——, instead of joining his regiment, must remain on board. We learned an unpleasant piece of news. There has been a tumult at Bristol and some rioters shot, it is said fifty or sixty. I would flatter myself that this is rather good news, since it seems to be no part of a formed insurrection, but an accidental scuffle in which the mob have had the worst, and which, like Tranent, Manchester, and Bonnymoor, have always had the effect of quieting the people and alarming men of property.[487] The Whigs will find it impossible to permit men to be plundered by a few blackguards called by them the people, and education and property probably will recover an ascendency which they have only lost by faintheartedness.

We backed out of the Bay by means of a current to the eastward, which always runs thence, admiring in our retreat the lighting up the windows in the town and the various barracks or country seats visible on the rock. Far as we are from home, the general lighting up of the windows in the evening reminds us we are still in merry old England, where in reverse of its ancient law of the curfew, almost every individual, however humble his station, takes as of right a part of the evening for enlarging the scope of his industry or of his little pleasures. He trims his lamp to finish at leisure some part of his task, which seems in such circumstances almost voluntary, while his wife prepares the little meal which is to be its legitimate reward. But this happy privilege of English freemen has ceased. One happiness it is, they will soon learn their error.

November 15.—I had so much to say about Gibraltar that I omitted all mention of the Strait, and more distant shores of Spain and Barbary, which form the extreme of our present horizon; they are highly interesting. A chain of distant mountains sweep round Gibraltar, bold peaked, well defined, and deeply indented; the most distinguishable points occasionally garnished with an old watch-tower to afford protection against a corsair. The mountains seemed like those of the first formation, liker, in other words, to the Highlands than those of the South of Scotland. The chains of hills in Barbary are of the same character, but more lofty and much more distant, being, I conceive, a part of the celebrated ridge of Atlas.

Gibraltar is one of the pillars of Hercules, Ceuta on the Moorish side is well known to be the other; to the westward of a small fortress garrisoned by the Spaniards is the Hill of Apes, the corresponding pillar to Gibraltar. There is an extravagant tradition that there was once a passage under the sea from the one fortress to the other, and that an adventurous governor, who puzzled his way to Ceuta and back again, left his gold watch as a prize to him who had the courage to go to seek it.

We are soon carried by the joint influence of breeze and current to the African side of the straits, and coast nearly along a wild shore formed of mountains, like those of Spain, of varied form and outline. No churches, no villages, no marks of human hand are seen. The chain of hills show a mockery of cultivation, but it is only wild heath intermingled with patches of barren sand. I look in vain for cattle or flocks of sheep, and Anne as vainly entertains hopes of seeing lions and tigers on a walk to the sea-shore. The land of this wild country seems to have hardly a name. The Cape which we are doubling has one, however—the Cape of the Three Points. That we might not be totally disappointed we saw one or two men engaged apparently in ploughing, distinguished by their turbans and the long pikes which they carried. Dr. Liddell says that on former occasions he has seen flocks and shepherds, but the war with France has probably laid the country waste.

November 16.—When I waked about seven found that we had the town of Oran twelve or fourteen miles off astern. It is a large place on the sea-beach, near the bottom of a bay, built close and packed together as Moorish [towns], from Fez to Timbuctoo, usually are. A considerable hill runs behind the town, which seems capable of holding 10,000 inhabitants. The hill up to its eastern summit is secured by three distinct lines of fortification, made probably by the Spanish when Oran was in their possession; latterly it belonged to the State of Algiers; but whether it has yielded to the French or not we have no means of knowing. A French schooner of eighteen guns seems to blockade the harbour. We show our colours, and she displays hers, and then resumes her cruise, looking as if she resumed her blockade. This would infer that the place is not yet in French hands. However, we have in any event no business with Oran, whether African or French. Bristol is a more important subject of consideration, but I cannot learn there are papers on board. One or two other towns we saw on this dreary coast, otherwise nothing but a hilly coast covered with shingle and gum cistus.

November 17.—In the morning we are off Algiers, of which Captain Pigot's complaisance afforded a very satisfactory sight. It is built on a sloping hill, running down to the sea, and on the water side is extremely strong; a very strong mole or causeway enlarges the harbour, by enabling them to include a little rocky island, and mount immense batteries, with guns of great number and size. It is a wonder, in the opinion of all judges, that Lord Exmouth's fleet was not altogether cut to pieces. The place is of little strength to the land; a high turreted wall of the old fashion is its best defence. When Charles V. attacked Algiers, he landed in the bay to the east of the town, and marched behind it. He afterwards reached what is still called the Emperor's fort, a building more highly situated than any part of the town, and commanding the wall which surrounds it. The Moors did not destroy this. When Bourmont landed with the French, unlike Charles V., that general disembarked to the westward of Algiers, and at the mouth of a small river; he then marched into the interior, and, fetching a circuit, presented himself on the northern side of the town. Here the Moors had laid a simple stratagem for the destruction of the invading army. The natives had conceived they would rush at once to the fort of the Emperor, which they therefore mined, and expected to destroy a number of the enemy by its explosion. This obvious device of war was easily avoided, and General Bourmont, in possession of the heights, from which Algiers is commanded, had no difficulty in making himself master of the place. The French are said now to hold their conquests with difficulty, owing to a general commotion among the Moorish chiefs, of whom the Bey was the nominal sovereign. To make war on these wild tribes would be to incur the disaster of the Emperor Julian; to neglect their aggressions is scarcely possible.

Algiers has at first an air of diminutiveness inferior to its fame in ancient and modern times. It rises up from the shore like a wedge, composed of a large mass of close-packed white houses, piled as thick on each other as they can stand; white-terraced roofs, and without windows, so the number of its inhabitants must be immense, in comparison to the ground the buildings occupy—not less, perhaps, than 30,000 men. Even from the distance we view it, the place has a singular Oriental look, very dear to the imagination. The country around Algiers is [of] the same hilly description with the ground on which the town is situated—a bold hilly tract. The shores of the bay are studded with villas, and exhibit enclosures: some used for agriculture, some for gardens, one for a mosque, with a cemetery around it. It is said they are extremely fertile; the first example we have seen of the exuberance of the African soil. The villas, we are told, belong to the Consular Establishment. We saw our own, who, if at home, put no remembrance upon us. Like the Cambridge Professor and the elephant, "We were a paltry beast," and he would not see us, though we drew within cannon [shot], and our fifty 36-pounders might have attracted some attention. The Moors showed their old cruelty on a late occasion. The crews of two foreign vessels having fallen into their hands by shipwreck, they murdered two-thirds of them in cold blood. There are reports of a large body of French cavalry having shown itself without the town. It is also reported by Lieutenant Walker,[488] that the Consul hoisted, comme de raison, a British flag at his country house, so our vanity is safe.

We leave Algiers and run along the same kind of heathy, cliffy, barren reach of hills, terminating in high lines of serrated ridges, and scarce showing an atom of cultivation, but where the mouth of a river or a sheltering bay has encouraged the Moors to some species of fortification.

November 18.—Still we are gliding along the coast of Africa, with a steady and unruffled gale; the weather delicious. Talk of an island of wild goats, by name Golita; this species of deer-park is free to every one for shooting upon—belongs probably to the Algerines or Tunisians, whom circumstances do not permit to be very scrupulous in asserting their right of dominion; but Dr. Liddell has himself been present at a grand chasse of the goats, so the thing is true.

The wild sinuosities of the land make us each moment look to see a body of Arabian cavalry wheel at full gallop out of one of these valleys, scour along the beach, and disappear up some other recess of the hills. In fact we see a few herds, but a red cow is the most formidable monster we have seen.

A general day of exercise on board, as well great guns as small arms. It was very entertaining to see the men take to their quarters with the unanimity of an individual. The marines shot a target to pieces, the boarders scoured away to take their position on the yards with cutlass and pistol. The exhibition continued two hours, and was loud enough to have alarmed the shores, where the Algerines might, if they had thought fit, have imputed the firing to an opportune quarrel between the French and British, and have shouted "Allah Kerim"—God is merciful! This was the Dey's remark when he heard that Charles X. was dethroned by the Parisians.

We are near an African Cape called Bugiaroni, where, in the last war, the Toulon fleet used to trade for cattle.

November 19.—Wind favourable during night, dies away in the morning, and blows in flurries rather contrary. The steamboat packet, which left Portsmouth at the same time with us, passes us about seven o'clock, and will reach a day or two before us. We are now off the coast of Tunis: not so high and rocky as that of Algiers, and apparently much more richly cultivated. A space of considerable length along shore, between a conical hill called Mount Baluty and Cape Bon, which we passed last night, is occupied by the French as a coral fishery. They drop heavy shot by lines on the coral rocks and break off fragments which they fish up with nets. The Algerines, seizing about 200 Neapolitans thus employed gave rise to the bombardment of their town by Lord Exmouth. All this coast is picturesquely covered with enclosures and buildings and is now clothed with squally weather. One hill has a smoky umbrella displayed over its peak, which is very like a volcano—many islets and rocks bearing the Italian names of sisters, brothers, dogs, and suchlike epithets. The view is very striking, with varying rays of light and of shade mingling and changing as the wind rises and falls. About one o'clock we pass the situation of ancient Carthage, but saw no ruins, though such are said to exist. A good deal of talk about two ancient lakes called——; I knew the name, but little more. We passed in the evening two rocky islands, or skerries, rising straight out of the water, called Gli Fratelli or The Brothers.

November 20.—A fair wind all night, running at the merry rate of nine knots an hour. In the morning we are in sight of the highest island, Pantellaria, which the Sicilians use as a state prison, a species of Botany Bay. We are about thirty miles from the burning island—I mean Graham's—but neither that nor Etna make their terrors visible. At noon Graham's Island appears, greatly diminished since last accounts. We got out the boats and surveyed this new production of the earth with great interest. Think I have got enough to make a letter to our Royal Society and friends at Edinburgh.[489] Lat. 37 deg. 10' 31" N., long. 12 deg. 40' 15" E., lying north and south by compass, by Mr. Bokely, the Captain's clerk['s measurements]. Returned on board at dinner-time.

November 21.—Indifferent night. In the morning we are running off Gozo, a subordinate island to Malta, intersected with innumerable enclosures of dry-stone dykes similar to those used in Selkirkshire, and this likeness is increased by the appearance of sundry square towers of ancient days. In former times this was believed to be Calypso's island, and the cave of the enchantress is still shown. We saw the entrance from the deck, as rude a cavern as ever opened out of a granite rock. The place of St. Paul's shipwreck is also shown, no doubt on similarly respectable authority.

At last we opened Malta, an island, or rather a city, like no other in the world. The seaport, formerly the famous Valetta, comes down to the sea-shore. On the one side lay the [Knights], on the other side lay the Turks, who finally got entire possession of it, while the other branch remained in the power of the Christians. Mutual cruelties were exercised; the Turks, seizing on the survivors of the knights who had so long defended St. Elmo, cut the Maltese cross on the bodies of the slain, and, tying them to planks, let them drift with the receding tide into the other branch of the harbour still defended by the Christians. The Grand-Master, in resentment of this cruelty, caused his Turkish prisoners to be decapitated and their heads thrown from mortars into the camp of the infidels.[490]

November 22.—To-day we entered Malta harbour, to quarantine, which is here very strict. We are condemned by the Board of Quarantine to ten days' imprisonment or sequestration, and go in the Barham's boat to our place of confinement, built by a Grand-Master named Manuel[491] for a palace for himself and his retinue. It is spacious and splendid, but not comfortable; the rooms connected one with another by an arcade, into which they all open, and which forms a delightful walk. If I was to live here a sufficient time I think I could fit the apartments up so as to be handsome, and even imposing, but at present they are only kept as barracks for the infirmary or lazaretto. A great number of friends come to see me, who are not allowed to approach nearer than a yard. This, as the whole affair is a farce, is ridiculous enough. We are guarded by the officers of health in a peculiar sort of livery or uniform with yellow neck, who stroll up and down with every man that stirs—and so mend the matter.[492] My friends Captain and Mrs. Dawson, the daughter and son-in-law of the late Lord Kinnedder, occupying as military quarters one end of the Manuel palace, have chosen to remain, though thereby subjected to quarantine, and so become our fellows in captivity. Our good friend Captain Pigot, hearing some exaggerated report of our being uncomfortably situated, came himself in his barge with the purpose of reclaiming his passengers rather than we should be subjected to the least inconvenience. We returned our cordial thanks, but felt we had already troubled him sufficiently. We dine with Captain and Mrs. Dawson, sleep in our new quarters, and, notwithstanding mosquito curtains and iron bedsteads, are sorely annoyed by vermin, the only real hardship we have to complain of since the tossing on the Bay of Biscay, and which nothing could save us from.

Les Maltois ne se mariaient jamais dans le mois de mai. Ils espererent si mal des ouvrages de tout genre commence durant son cours qu'ils ne se faisaient pas couper d'habits pendant ce mois.

The same superstition still prevails in Scotland.

November 23.—This is a splendid town. The sea penetrates it in several places with creeks formed into harbours, surrounded by buildings, and these again covered with fortifications. The streets are of very unequal height, and as there has been no attempt at lowering them, the greatest variety takes place between them; and the singularity of the various buildings, leaning on each other in such a bold, picturesque, and uncommon manner, suggests to me ideas for finishing Abbotsford by a screen on the west side of the old barn and with a fanciful wall decorated with towers, to enclose the bleaching green—watch-towers such as these, of which I can get drawings while I am here. Employed the forenoon in writing to Lockhart. I am a little at a loss what account to give of myself. Better I am decidedly in spirit, but rather hampered by my companions, who are neither desirous to follow my amusements, nor anxious that I should adopt theirs. I am getting on with this Siege of Malta very well. I think if I continue, it will be ready in a very short time, and I will get the opinion of others, and if my charm hold I will be able to get home through Italy—and take up my own trade again.

November 24.—We took the quarantine boat and visited the outer harbour or great port, in which the ships repose when free from their captivity. The British ships of war are there,—a formidable spectacle, as they all carry guns of great weight. If they go up the Levant as reported, they are a formidable weight in the bucket. I was sensible while looking at them of the truth of Cooper's description of the beauty of their build, their tapering rigging and masts, and how magnificent it looks as

"Hulking and vast the gallant warship rides!"

We had some pride in looking at the Barham, once in a particular manner our own abode. Captain Pigot and some of his officers dined with us at our house of captivity. By a special grace our abode here is to be shortened one day, so we leave on Monday first, which is an indulgence. To-day we again visit Dragut's Point. The guardians who attend to take care that we quarantines do not kill the people whom we meet, tell some stories of this famous corsair, but I scarce can follow their Arabic. I must learn it, though, for the death of Dragut[493] would be a fine subject for a poem, but in the meantime I will proceed with my Knights.

[November 25-30.][494]—By permission of the quarantine board we were set at liberty, and lost no time in quitting the dreary fort of Don Manuel, with all its mosquitoes and its thousands of lizards which [stand] shaking their heads at you like their brother in the new Arabian tale of Daft Jock. My son and daughter are already much tired of the imprisonment. I myself cared less about it, but it is unpleasant to be thought so very unclean and capable of poisoning a whole city. We took our guardians' boat and again made a round of the harbour; were met by Mrs. Bathurst's[495] carriage, and carried to my very excellent apartment at Beverley's Hotel. In passing I saw something of the city, and very comical it was; but more of that hereafter. At or about four o'clock we went to our old habitation the Barham, having promised again to dine in the Ward room, where we had a most handsome dinner, and were dismissed at half-past six, after having the pleasure to receive and give a couple hours of satisfaction. I took the boat from the chair, and was a little afraid of the activity of my assistants, but it all went off capitally; went to Beverley's and bed in quiet.

At two o'clock Mrs. Col. Bathurst transported me to see the Metropolitan Church of St. John, by far the most magnificent place I ever saw in my life; its huge and ample vaults are of the Gothic order. The floor is of marble, each stone containing the inscription of some ancient knight adorned with a patent of mortality and an inscription recording his name and family. For instance, one knight I believe had died in the infidels' prison; to mark his fate, one stone amid the many-coloured pavement represents a door composed of grates (iron grates I mean), displaying behind them an interior which a skeleton is in vain attempting to escape from by bursting the bars. If you conceive he has pined in his fetters there for centuries till dried in the ghastly image of death himself, it is a fearful imagination. The roof which bends over this scene of death is splendidly adorned with carving and gilding, while the varied colours and tinctures both above and beneath, free from the tinselly effect which might have been apprehended, [acquire a] solemnity in the dim religious light, which they probably owe to the lapse of time. Besides the main aisle, which occupies the centre, there is added a chapter-house in which the knights were wont to hold their meetings. At the upper end of this chapter-house is the fine Martyrdom of St. John the Baptist, by Caravaggio, though this has been disputed. On the left hand of the body of the church lie a series of subordinate aisles or chapels, built by the devotion of the different languages,[496] and where some of the worthies inhabit the vaults beneath. The other side of the church is occupied in the same manner; one chapel in which the Communion was imparted is splendidly adorned by a row of silver pillars, which divided the worshippers from the priest. Immense riches had been taken from this chapel of the Holy Sacrament by the French; a golden lamp of great size, and ornaments to the value of 50,000 crowns are mentioned in particular; the rich railing had not escaped the soldiers' rapacity had it not been painted to resemble wood. I must visit this magnificent church another time. To-day I have done it at the imminent risk of a bad fall. We drove out to see a Maltese village, highly ornamented in the usual taste. Mrs. Bathurst was so good as to take me in her carriage. We dined with Colonel Bathurst.

November 26.—I visited my old and much respected friend, Mr. John Hookham Frere,[497] and was much gratified to see him the same man I had always known him,—perhaps a little indolent; but that's not much. A good Tory as ever, when the love of many is waxed cold. At night a grand ball in honour of your humble servant—about four hundred gentlemen and ladies. The former mostly British officers of army, navy, and civil service. Of the ladies, the island furnished a fair proportion—- I mean viewed in either way. I was introduced to a mad Italian improvisatore, who was with difficulty prevented from reciting a poem in praise of the King, and imposing a crown upon my head, nolens volens. Some of the officers, easily conceiving how disagreeable this must have been to a quiet man, got me out of the scrape, and I got home about midnight; but remain unpoetised and unspeeched.

November 28.—I have made some minutes, some observations, and could do something at my Siege; but I do not find my health gaining ground. I visited Frere at Sant' Antonio: a beautiful place with a splendid garden, which Mr. Frere will never tire of, unless some of his family come to carry him home by force.

November 29.—Lady Hotham was kind enough to take me a drive, and we dined with them—a very pleasant party. I picked up some anecdotes of the latter siege.

Make another pilgrimage, escorted by Captain Pigot and several of his officers. We took a more accurate view of this splendid structure [Church of St. John]. I went down into the vaults and made a visiting acquaintance with La Valette,[498] whom, greatly to my joy, I found most splendidly provided with a superb sepulchre of bronze, on which he reclines in the full armour of a Knight of Chivalrie.

FOOTNOTES:

[483] See Sailor's Song, Cease, rude Boreas, etc., ante, p. 402: "The Storm."

[484] See ante, vol. i. p. 253, note.

[485] Lasting from 21st June 1779 to 6th February 1783.

[486] Compare the reflection of the Chevalier d'Arcon, the contriver of the floating batteries. He remained on board the Talla Piedra till past midnight, and wrote to the French Ambassador in the first hours of his anguish: "I have burnt the Temple of Ephesus; everything is gone, and through my fault! What comforts me under my calamity is that the honour of the two kings remains untarnished."—Mahon's History of England, vol. vii. p. 290.

[487] Nothing like these Bristol riots had occurred since those in Birmingham in 1791.—Martineau's History of the Peace, p. 353. The Tranent (East Lothian) and Bonnymoor (Stirlingshire) conflicts took place in 1797 and 1820; the Manchester riot in 1826.

[488] Afterwards Admiral Sir Baldwin Walker, so long in command of the Turkish Navy.

[489] See long letter to Mr. Skene in Life, vol. x. pp. 126-130.

[490] In the memorable siege of 1565.

[491] Manuel de Vilhena, Grand-Master 1722-1736.

[492] An example of the rigour with which the Quarantine laws were enforced is given by Sir Walter on the 24th:—"We had an instance of the strictness of these regulations from an accident which befell us as we entered the harbour. One of our seamen was brushed from the main yard, fell into the sea and began to swim for his life. The Maltese boats bore off to avoid giving him assistance, but an English boat, less knowing, picked up the poor fellow, and were immediately assigned to the comforts of the Quarantine, that being the Maltese custom of rewarding humanity."—Letter to J.G.L.

[493] High Admiral of the Turkish fleet before Malta, and slain there in 1565. See Dragut the Corsair, in Lockhart's Spanish Ballads.

[494] The dates are not to be absolutely depended upon during the Malta visit, as they appear to have been added subsequently by Sir Walter.

[495] Wife of the Lieut.-Governor, Colonel Seymour Bathurst.

[496] In 1790 the Order of the Knights of St. John of Jerusalem consisted of eight "Lodges" or "Languages," viz.: France, Auvergne, Provence, Spain, Portugal, Germany, and Anglo-Bavaria.—Hoare's Tour, vol. i. p. 28.

[497] John Hookham Frere, the disciple of Pitt, and bosom friend of Canning, made Malta his home from 1820 till 1846; he died there on January 7th. He was in deep affliction at the time of Scott's arrival, having lost his wife a few months before, but he welcomed his old friend with a melancholy pleasure.

For Scott's high opinion of Frere, as far back as 1804, see Life, vol. ii. p. 207 and note.

[498] Grandmaster of the Knights of St. John of Jerusalem, and defender of Malta against Solyman in 1565.



DECEMBER

December 1.—There are two good libraries, on a different plan and for different purposes—a modern subscription library that lends its own books, and an ancient foreign library which belonged to the Knights, but does not lend books. Its value is considerable, but the funds unfortunately are shamefully small; I may do this last some good. I have got in a present from Frere the prints of the Siege of Malta, very difficult to understand, and on loan from Mr. Murray, Agent of the Navy Office, the original of Boiardo, to be returned through Mr. Murray, Albemarle Street. Mr. Murray is very good-natured about it.

December 2.—My chief occupation has been driving with Frere. Dr. Liddell declines a handsome fee. I will want to send some oranges to the children. I am to go with Col. Bathurst to-day as far as to wait on the bishop. My old friend Sir John Stoddart's daughter is to be married to a Captain Atkinson. Rode with Frere. Much recitation.

December 6.—Captain Pigot inclines to take me on with him to Naples, after which he goes to Tunis on Government service. This is an offer not to be despised, though at the expense of protracting the news from Scotland, which I engage to provide for in case of the worst, by offering Mr. Cadell a new romance, to be called The Siege of Malta, which if times be as they were when I came off, should be thankful[ly received] at a round sum, paying back not only what is overdrawn, but supplying finances during the winter.

December 10, [Naples].—I ought to say that before leaving Malta I went to wait on the Archbishop: a fine old gentleman, very handsome, and one of the priests who commanded the Maltese in their insurrection against the French. I took the freedom to hint that as he had possessed a journal of this blockade, it was but due to his country and himself to give it to the public, and offered my assistance. He listened to my suggestion, and seemed pleased with the proposal, which I repeated more than once, and apparently with success. Next day the Bishop returned my visit in full state, attended by his clergy, and superbly dressed in costume, the pearls being very fine. (The name of this fine old dignitary of the Romish Church is Don Francis Caruana, Bishop of Malta.)

The last night we were at Malta we experienced a rude shock of an earthquake, which alarmed me, though I did not know what it was. It was said to foretell that the ocean, which had given birth to Graham's Island, had, like Pelops, devoured its own offspring, and we are told it is not now visible, and will be, perhaps, hid from those who risk the main; but as we did not come near its latitude we cannot say from our own knowledge that the news is true. I found my old friend Frere as fond as ever of old ballads. He took me out almost every day, and favoured me with recitations of the Cid and the continuation of Whistlecraft. He also acquainted me that he had made up to Mr. Coleridge the pension of L200 from the Board of Literature[499] out of his own fortune.

December 13, [Naples].—We left Malta on this day, and after a most picturesque voyage between the coast of Sicily and Malta arrived here on the 17th, where we were detained for quarantine, whence we were not dismissed till the day before Christmas. I saw Charles, to my great joy, and agreed to dine with his master, Right Hon. Mr. Hill,[500] resolving it should be my first and last engagement at Naples. Next morning much struck with the beauty of the Bay of Naples. It is insisted that my arrival has been a signal for the greatest eruption from Vesuvius which that mountain has favoured us with for many a day. I can only say, as the Frenchman said of the comet supposed to foretell his own death, "Ah, messieurs, la comete me fait trop d'honneur." Of letters I can hear nothing. There are many English here, of most of whom I have some knowledge.

December 25, [Bay of Naples].—We are once more fairly put into quarantine. Captain Pigot does not, I think, quite understand the freedom his flag is treated with, and could he find law for so doing would try his long thirty-six pounders on the town of Naples and its castles; not to mention a sloop of ten guns which has ostentatiously entered the Bay to assist them. Lord knows we would make ducks and drakes of the whole party with the Barham's terrible battery!

There is a new year like to begin and no news from Britain. By and by I will be in the condition of those who are sick and in prison, and entitled to visits and consolation on principles of Christianity.

December 26, [Strada Nuova].—Went ashore; admitted to pratique, and were received here.[501] Walter has some money left, which we must use or try a begging-box, for I see no other resource, since they seem to have abandoned me so. Go ashore each day to sight-seeing. Have the pleasure to meet Mr.[502] and Mrs. Laing-Meason of Lindertis, and have their advice and assistance and company in our wanderings almost every day. Mr. Meason has made some valuable remarks on the lava where the villas of the middle ages are founded: the lava shows at least upon the ancient maritime villas of the Romans; so the boot of the moderns galls the kibe of the age preceding them; the reason seems to be the very great durability with which the Romans finished their domestic architecture of maritime arches, by which they admitted the sea into their lower houses.[503]

* * * * *

We were run away with, into the grotto very nearly, but luckily stopped before we entered, and so saved our lives. We have seen the Strada Nuova—a new access of extreme beauty which the Italians owe to Murat.

The Bay of Naples is one of the finest things I ever saw. Vesuvius controls it on the opposite side of the town.

I never go out in the evening, but take airings in the day-time almost daily. The day after Christmas I went to see some old parts of the city, amongst the rest a tower called Torre del Carmine, which figured during the Duke of Guise's adventure, and the gallery of as old a church, where Masaniello was shot at the conclusion of his career.[504] I marked down the epitaph of a former Empress,[505] which is striking and affecting. It would furnish matter for my Tour if I wanted it.

"Naples, thou'rt a gallant city, But thou hast been dearly bought"—[506]

So is King Alphonso made to sum up the praises of this princely town, with the losses which he had sustained in making himself master of it. I looked on it with something of the same feelings, and I may adopt the same train of thought when I recall Lady Northampton, Lady Abercorn, and other friends much beloved who have met their death in or near this city.

FOOTNOTES:

[499] By "Board of Literature" Scott doubtless means the Royal Society of Literature, instituted in 1824 under the patronage of George iv.; see ante, vol. i. pp. 390-91. Besides the members who paid a subscription there were ten associates, of whom Coleridge was one, who each received an annuity of a hundred guineas from the King's bounty. When William IV. succeeded his brother in 1830, he declined to continue these annuities. Representations were made to the Government, and the then Prime Minister, Earl Grey, offered Coleridge a private grant of L200 from the Treasury, which he declined.

The pension from the Society or the Privy Purse of George iv., which Mr. Hookham Frere told Sir Walter he had made up to Coleridge, was one hundred guineas.

[500] Afterwards Lord Berwick.

[501] The travellers established themselves in the Palazzo Caramanico as soon as they were released from quarantine.

[502] A brother of Malcolm Laing, the historian.

[503] An account is given by Sir William Gell of an excursion by sea to the ruins of such a Roman villa on the promontory of Posilipo, to which he had taken Sir Walter in a boat on the 26th of January.—Life, vol. x. pp. 157-8.

[504] For a picturesque sketch of Naples during the insurrection of 1647 see Sir Walter's article on Masaniello and the Duke of Guise.—Foreign Quarterly Review, vol. iv. pp. 355-403.

[505] See Appendix iv.: "A former Empress." Sir Walter no doubt means the mother of Conradin of Suabia, or, as the Italians call him, Corradino,—erroneously called "Empress," though her husband had pretensions to the Imperial dignity, disputed and abortive. For the whole affecting story see Histoire de la Conquete de Naples, St. Priest, vol. iii. pp. 130-185, especially pp. 162-3.

[506] A variation of the lines on Alphonso's capture of the city in 1442:—

"And then he looked on Naples, that great city of the sea, 'O city,' saith the King, 'how great hath been thy cost, For thee I twenty years—my fairest years—have lost.'"

—Lockhart's Spanish Ballads, "The King of Arragon."



1832.



JANUARY.

January 5.—Went by invitation to wait upon a priest, who almost rivals my fighting bishop of Malta. He is the old Bishop of Tarentum,[507] and, notwithstanding his age, eighty and upwards, is still a most interesting man. A face formed to express an interest in whatever passes; caressing manners, and a total absence of that rigid stiffness which hardens the heart of the old and converts them into a sort of petrifaction. Apparently his foible was a fondness for cats; one of them, a superb brindled Persian cat, is a great beauty, and seems a particular favourite. I think we would have got on well together if he could have spoken English, or I French or Latin; but helas! I once saw at Lord Yarmouth's house a Persian cat, but not quite so fine as that of the Bishop. He gave me a Latin devotional poem and an engraving of himself, and I came home about two o'clock.

January 6 to 12.—We reach the 12th January, amusing ourselves as we can, generally seeing company and taking airings in the forenoon in this fine country. Sir William Gell, a very pleasant man, one of my chief cicerones. Lord Hertford comes to Naples. I am glad to keep up an old acquaintance made in the days of George IV.

He has got a breed from Maida, of which I gave him a puppy. There was a great crowd at the Palazzo, which all persons attended, being the King's birthday. The apartments are magnificent, and the various kinds of persons who came to pay court were splendid. I went with the boys as Brigadier-General of the Archers' Guard, wore a very decent green uniform, laced at the cuffs, and pantaloons, and looked as well as sixty could make it out when sworded and feathered comme il faut. I passed well enough. Very much afraid of a fall on the slippery floor, but escaped that disgrace. The ceremony was very long. I was introduced to many distinguished persons, and, but for the want of language, got on well enough. The King spoke to me about five minutes, of which I hardly understood five words. I answered him in a speech of the same length, and I'll be bound equally unintelligible. We made the general key-tone of the harangue la belle langue et le beau ciel of sa majeste. Very fine dresses, very many diamonds....

A pretty Spanish ambassadress, Countess da Costa, and her husband. Saw the Countess de Lebzeltern, who has made our acquaintance, and seems to be very clever. I will endeavour to see her again. Introduced to another Russian Countess of the diplomacy. Got from Court about two o'clock. I should have mentioned that I had a letter from Skene[508] and one from Cadell, dated as far back as 2d December, a monstrous time ago, [which] yet puts a period to my anxiety. I have written to Cadell for particulars and supplies, and, besides, have written a great many pages of the Siege of Malta, which I think will succeed.

[January 16-23].—I think L200 a month, or thereby, will do very well, and it is no great advance.

Another piece of intelligence was certainly to be expected, but now it has come afflicts us much. Poor Johnny Lockhart! The boy is gone whom we have made so much of. I could not have borne it better than I now do, and I might have borne it much worse.[509]

* * * * *

I went one evening to the Opera to see that amusement in its birthplace, which is now so widely received over Europe. The Opera House is superb, but can seldom be quite full. On this night, however, it was; the guards, citizens, and all persons dependent on the Court, or having anything to win or lose by it, are expected to take places liberally, and applaud with spirit. The King bowed much on entrance, and was received in a popular manner, which he has no doubt deserved, having relaxed many of his father's violent persecutions against the Liberals, made in some degree an amnesty, and employed many of this character. He has made efforts to lessen his expenses; but then he deals in military affairs, and that swallows up his savings, and Heaven only knows whether he will bring [Neapolitans] to fight, which the Martinet system alone will never do. His health is undermined by epileptic fits, which, with his great corpulence, make men throw their thoughts on his brother Prince Charles. It is a pity. The King is only two-and-twenty years old.

The Opera bustled off without any remarkable music, and, so far as I understand the language, no poetry; and except the coup d'oeil, which was magnificent, it was poor work. It was on the subject of Constantine and Crispus—marvellous good matter, I assure you. I came home at half-past nine, without waiting the ballet, but I was dog-sick of the whole of it. Went to the Studij to-day. I had no answer to my memorial to the Minister of the Interior, which it seems is necessary to make any copies from the old romances. I find it is an affair of State, and Monsieur ——- can only hope it will be granted in two or three days;—to a man that may leave Naples to-morrow! He offers me a loan of what books I need, Annals included, but this is also a delay of two or three days. I think really the Italian men of letters do not know the use of time made by those of other places, but I must have patience. In the course of my return home I called, by advice of my valet de place, at a bookseller's, where he said all the great messieurs went for books. It had very little the air of a place of such resort, being kept in a garret above a coach-house. Here some twenty or thirty odd volumes were produced by an old woman, but nothing that was mercantile, so I left them for Lorenzo's learned friends. And yet I was sorry too, for the lady who showed them to me was very [civil], and, understanding that I was the famous Chevalier, carried her kindness as far as I could desire. The Italians understand nothing of being in a hurry, but perhaps it is their way.[510]

January 24.—The King grants the favour asked. To be perfect I should have the books [out] of the room, but this seems to [hurt?] Monsieur Delicteriis as he, kind and civil as he is, would hardly [allow] me to take my labours out of the Studij, where there are hosts of idlers and echoes and askers and no understanders of askers. I progress, however, as the Americans say. I have found that Sir William Gell's amanuensis is at present disengaged, and that he is quite the man for copying the romances, which is a plain black letter of 1377, at the cheap and easy rate of 3 quattrons a day. I am ashamed at the lowness of the remuneration, but it will dine him capitally, with a share of a bottle of wine, or, by 'r lady, a whole one if he likes it; and thrice the sum would hardly do that in England. But we dawdle, and that there is no avoiding. I have found another object in the Studij—the language of Naples.

Jany. 2[5?].—One work in this dialect, for such it is, was described to me as a history of ancient Neapolitan legends—quite in my way; and it proves to be a dumpy fat 12mo edition of Mother Goose's Tales,[511] with my old friends Puss in Boots, Bluebeard, and almost the whole stock of this very collection. If this be the original of this charming book, it is very curious, for it shows the right of Naples to the authorship, but there are French editions very early also;—for there are two—whether French or Italian, I am uncertain—of different dates, both having claims to the original edition, each omitting some tales which the other has.

To what common original we are to refer them the Lord knows. I will look into [this] very closely, and if this same copiator is worth his ears he can help me. My friend Mr. D. will aid me, but I doubt he hardly likes my familiarity with the department of letters in which he has such an extensive and valuable charge. Yet he is very kind and civil, and promises me the loan of a Neapolitan vocabulary, which will set me up for the attack upon Mother Goose. Spirit of Tom Thumb assist me! I could, I think, make a neat thing of this, obnoxious to ridicule perhaps;—what then! The author of Ma Soeur Anne was a clever man, and his tale will remain popular in spite of all gibes and flouts soever. So Vamos Caracci! If it was not for the trifling and dawdling peculiar to this country, I should have time enough, but their trifling with time is the devil. I will try to engage Mr. Gell in two researches in his way and more in mine, namely, the Andrea Ferrara and the Bonnet piece.[512] Mr. Keppel Craven says Andrea de Ferraras[513] are frequent in Italy. Plenty to do if we had alert assistance, but Gell and Laing Meason have both their own matters to puzzle out, and why should they mind my affairs? The weather is very cold, and I am the reverse of the idiot boy—