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 hélas! 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.
[507] Sir William Gell styles him "Archbishop," and adds that
at this time he was in his ninetieth year. Can this prelate be Rogers's
"Good Old Cardinal," who told the pleasant tale of the Bag of Gold,
and is immortalised by the pencil of Landseer seated at table en
famille with three of his velvet favourites? See Italy, fcp. 8vo,
1838, p. 302.
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 majesté. 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.
[508] This is the last notice in the Journal by Sir Walter of
his dear friend. James Skene of Rubislaw died at Frewen Hall, Oxford, in
1864, in his ninetieth year. His faculties remained unimpaired
throughout his serene and beautiful old age, until the end was very
near—then, one evening his daughter found him with a look of
inexpressible delight on his face, when he said to her "I have had such
a great pleasure! Scott has been here—he came from a long distance to
see me, he has been sitting with me at the fireside talking over our
happy recollections of the past...." Two or three days later he followed
his well loved friend into the unseen world—gently and calmly like a
child falling asleep he passed away in perfect peace.
[January 16-23].—I think £200 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]
[509] John Hugh Lockhart died December 15, 1831.
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'œil, 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]
[510] Sir W. Gell relates that an old English manuscript of the
Romance of Sir Bevis of Hampton, existing in Naples, had attracted
Scott's attention, and he resolved to make a copy of it.
The transcript is now in the Library at Abbotsford, under the title,
Old English Romances, transcribed from MSS. in the Royal Library at
Naples, by Sticchini, 2 vols. sm. 8vo.
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.
[511] See Appendix v. for Mr. Andrew Lang's letter on this
subject.
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 Sœur 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—
"For as my body's growing worse,
My mind is growing better." [514]
[512] The forty-shilling gold piece coined by James V. of
Scotland.
[513] Sword-blades of peculiar excellence bearing the name of
this maker have been known in Scotland since the reign of James IV.
[514] Altered from Wordsworth.
Of this I am distinctly sensible, and thank God that the mist attending
this whoreson apoplexy is wearing off.
I went to the Studij and copied Bevis of Hampton, about two pages, for a
pattern. From thence to Sir William Gell, and made an appointment at the
Studij with his writer to-morrow at ten, when, I trust, I shall find
Delicteriis there, but the gentleman with the classical name is rather
kind and friendly in his neighbour's behalf. [515]
[515] The editor of Reliquiæ Antiquæ (2 vols. 8vo, London,
1843), writing ten years after this visit, says, that "The Chevalier de
Licteriis [Chief Librarian in the Royal Library] showed him the
manuscript, and well remembered his drawing Sir Walter's attention to it
in 1832."
January 26.—This day arrived (for the first time indeed) answer to
last post end of December, an epistle from Cadell full of good
tidings. [516] Castle Dangerous and Sir Robert of Paris, neither of
whom I deemed seaworthy, have performed two voyages—that is, each sold
about 3400, and the same of the current year. It proves what I have
thought almost impossible, that I might write myself [out], but as yet
my spell holds fast.
[516] Sir W. Gell records that on the morning he received the
good news he called upon him and said he felt quite relieved by his
letters, and added, "I could never have slept straight in my coffin till
I had satisfied every claim against me; and now," turning to a favourite
dog that was with them in the carriage he said, "My poor boy, I shall
have my house and my estate round it free, and I may keep my dogs as big
and as many as I choose without fear of reproach."—Life, vol. X. p.
160.
I have besides two or three good things on which I may advance with
spirit, and with palmy hopes on the part of Cadell and myself. He thinks
he will soon cry victoria on the bet about his hat. He was to get a
new one when I had paid off all my debts. I can hardly, now that I am
assured all is well again, form an idea to myself that I could think it
was otherwise.
And yet I think it is the public that are mad for passing those two
volumes; but I will not be the first to cry them down in the market, for
I have others in hand, which, judged with equal favour, will make
fortunes of themselves. Let me see what I have on the stocks—
Castle Dangerous (supposed future Editions), £1000
Robert of Paris, " " " 1000
Lady Louisa Stuart, " " " 500
Knights of Malta, " " " 2500
Trotcosianæ Reliquiæ, " " 2500
I have returned to my old hopes, and think of giving Milne an offer for
his estate. [517]
[517] Viz, Faldonside, an estate adjacent to Abbotsford which
Scott had long wished to possess. As far back as November 1817 he wrote
a friend: "My neighbour, Nicol Milne, is mighty desirous I should buy,
at a mighty high rate, some land between me and the lake which lies
mighty convenient, but I am mighty determined to give nothing more than
the value, so that it is likely to end like the old proverb, Ex Nichilo
Nichil fit."
Letters or Tour of Paul in 3 vols. 3000
Reprint of Bevis of Hampton for Roxburghe Club,
Essay on the Neapolitan dialect,
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