The Journal of Sir Walter Scott from the Original Manuscript at Abbotsford November, 1831
by Sir Walter Scott
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,
Fröhlich! 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]
[483] See Sailor's Song, Cease, rude Boreas, etc., ante, p.
402: "The Storm."
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.
[484] See ante, vol. i. p. 253, note.
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.
[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.
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.
[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.
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.
[488] Afterwards Admiral Sir Baldwin Walker, so long in command
of the Turkish Navy.
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° 10' 31" N., long. 12° 40' 15"
E., lying north and south by compass, by Mr. Bokely, the Captain's
clerk['s measurements]. Returned on board at dinner-time.
[489] See long letter to Mr. Skene in Life, vol. x. pp.
126-130.
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]
[490] In the memorable siege of 1565.
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.
[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.
Les Maltois ne se mariaient jamais dans le mois de mai. Ils espérèrent
si mal des ouvrages de tout genre commencé 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.
[493] High Admiral of the Turkish fleet before Malta, and slain
there in 1565. See Dragut the Corsair, in Lockhart's Spanish
Ballads.
[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.
[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.
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.
[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.
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.
[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.
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.
[498] Grandmaster of the Knights of St. John of Jerusalem, and
defender of Malta against Solyman in 1565.