Dinner at the Ambassador's--Opera--Disaster of Byron at Malta--Mrs
Spencer Smith
I shall always remember Cagliari with particular pleasure; for it so
happened that I formed there three of the most agreeable
acquaintances of my life, and one of them was with Lord Byron; for
although we had been eight days together, I yet could not previously
have accounted myself acquainted with his Lordship.
After dinner, we all went to the theatre, which was that evening, on
account of some Court festival, brilliantly illuminated. The Royal
Family were present, and the opera was performed with more taste and
execution than I had expected to meet with in so remote a place, and
under the restrictions which rendered the intercourse with the
Continent then so difficult. Among other remarkable characters
pointed out to us was a nobleman in the pit, actually under the ban
of outlawry for murder. I have often wondered if the incident had
any effect on the creation of Lara; for we know not in what small
germs the conceptions of genius originate.
But the most important occurrence of that evening arose from a
delicate observance of etiquette on the part of the ambassador.
After carrying us to his box, which was close to that of the Royal
Family, in order that we might see the members of it properly, he
retired with Lord Byron to another box, an inflection of manners to
propriety in the best possible taste--for the ambassador was
doubtless aware that his Lordship's rank would be known to the
audience, and I conceive that this little arrangement was adopted to
make his person also known, by showing him with distinction apart
from the other strangers.
When the performance was over, Mr Hill came down with Lord Byron to
the gate of the upper town, where his Lordship, as we were taking
leave, thanked him with more elocution than was precisely requisite.
The style and formality of the speech amused Mr Hobhouse, as well as
others; and, when the minister retired, he began to rally his
Lordship on the subject. But Byron really fancied that he had
acquitted himself with grace and dignity, and took the jocularity of
his friend amiss--a little banter ensued--the poet became petulant,
and Mr Hobhouse walked on; while Byron, on account of his lameness,
and the roughness of the pavement, took hold of my arm, appealing to
me, if he could have said less, after the kind and hospitable
treatment we had all received. Of course, though I thought pretty
much as Mr Hobhouse did, I could not do otherwise than civilly
assent, especially as his Lordship's comfort, at the moment, seemed
in some degree dependent on being confirmed in the good opinion he
was desirous to entertain of his own courtesy. From that night I
evidently rose in his good graces; and, as he was always most
agreeable and interesting when familiar, it was worth my while to
advance, but by cautious circumvallations, into his intimacy; for his
uncertain temper made his favour precarious.
The next morning, either owing to the relaxation of his abstinence,
which he could not probably well avoid amid the good things of the
ambassadorial table; or, what was, perhaps, less questionable, some
regret for his petulance towards his friend, he was indisposed, and
did not make his appearance till late in the evening. I rather
suspect, though there was no evidence of the fact, that Hobhouse
received any concession which he may have made with indulgence; for
he remarked to me, in a tone that implied both forbearance and
generosity of regard, that it was necessary to humour him like a
child. But, in whatever manner the reconciliation was accomplished,
the passengers partook of the blessings of the peace. Byron, during
the following day, as we were sailing along the picturesque shores of
Sicily, was in the highest spirits overflowing with glee, and
sparkling with quaint sentences. The champagne was uncorked and in
the finest condition.
Having landed the mail at Girgenti, we stretched over to Malta, where
we arrived about noon next day--all the passengers, except Orestes
and Pylades, being eager to land, went on shore with the captain.
They remained behind for a reason--which an accidental expression of
Byron let out--much to my secret amusement; for I was aware they
would be disappointed, and the anticipation was relishing. They
expected--at least he did--a salute from the batteries, and sent
ashore notice to Sir Alexander Ball, the Governor, of his arrival;
but the guns were sulky, and evinced no respect of persons; so that
late in the afternoon, about the heel of the evening, the two
magnates were obliged to come on shore, and slip into the city
unnoticed and unknown.
At this time Malta was in great prosperity. Her commerce was
flourishing; and the goodly clusters of its profits hung ripe and
rich at every door. The merchants were truly hospitable, and few
more so than Mr Chabot. As I had letters to him, he invited me to
dinner, along with several other friends previously engaged. In the
cool of the evening, as we were sitting at our wine, Lord Byron and
Mr Hobhouse were announced. His Lordship was in better spirits than
I had ever seen him. His appearance showed, as he entered the room,
that they had met with some adventure, and he chuckled with an inward
sense of enjoyment, not altogether without spleen--a kind of
malicious satisfaction--as his companion recounted with all becoming
gravity their woes and sufferings, as an apology for begging a bed
and morsel for the night. God forgive me! but I partook of Byron's
levity at the idea of personages so consequential wandering destitute
in the streets, seeking for lodgings, as it were, from door to door,
and rejected at all.
Next day, however, they were accommodated by the Governor with an
agreeable house in the upper part of Valetta; and his Lordship, as
soon as they were domiciled, began to take lessons in Arabic from a
monk--I believe one of the librarians of the public library. His
whole time was not, however, devoted to study; for he formed an
acquaintance with Mrs Spencer Smith, the lady of the gentleman of
that name, who had been our resident minister at Constantinople: he
affected a passion for her; but it was only Platonic. She, however,
beguiled him of his valuable yellow diamond ring. She is the
Florence of Childe Harold, and merited the poetical embalmment, or
rather the amber immortalisation, she possesses there--being herself
a heroine. There was no exaggeration in saying that many incidents
of her life would appear improbable in fiction. Her adventures with
the Marquis de Salvo form one of the prettiest romances in the
Italian language; everything in her destiny was touched with
adventure: nor was it the least of her claims to sympathy that she
had incurred the special enmity of Napoleon.
After remaining about three weeks at Malta, Byron embarked with his
friend in a brig of war, appointed to convoy a fleet of small
merchantmen to Prevesa. I had, about a fortnight before, passed over
with the packet on her return from Messina to Girgenti, and did not
fall in with them again till the following spring, when we met at
Athens. In the meantime, besides his Platonic dalliance with Mrs
Spencer Smith, Byron had involved himself in a quarrel with an
officer; but it was satisfactorily settled.
His residence at Malta did not greatly interest him. The story of
its chivalrous masters made no impression on his imagination--none
that appears in his works--but it is not the less probable that the
remembrance of the place itself occupied a deep niche in his bosom:
for I have remarked, that he had a voluntary power of forgetfulness,
which, on more than one occasion, struck me as singular: and I am
led in consequence to think, that something unpleasant, connected
with this quarrel, may have been the cause of his suppression of all
direct allusion to the island. It was impossible that his
imagination could avoid the impulses of the spirit which haunts the
walls and ramparts of Malta; and the silence of his muse on a topic
so rich in romance, and so well calculated to awaken associations
concerning the knights, in unison with the ruminations of Childe
Harold, persuades me that there must have been some specific cause
for the omission. If it were nothing in the duel, I should be
inclined to say, notwithstanding the seeming improbability of the
notion, that it was owing to some curious modification of vindictive
spite. It might not be that Malta should receive no celebrity from
his pen; but assuredly he had met with something there which made him
resolute to forget the place. The question as to what it was, he
never answered the result would throw light into the labyrinths of
his character.