November 3rd, 1838.
Mr. Beckford showed me some sketches of St. Non’s Sicily and harbour of Malta, forty drawings, given by St. Non himself, each bearing the name in pencil; he also showed me a MS. “Arabian Nights.” He studied Arabic very deeply in Paris, and had a Mussulman master. He read to me part of a tale never put into the ordinary edition, translated into English tersely and perspicuously. He is much indebted to Arabic MS. for “Vathek,” and reads Arabic to this day. He says Lord Byron and others are quite mistaken as to the age when he wrote “Vathek,” not seventeen but twenty-three years of age. “Sir,” says he, “if you want a description of Persepolis read ‘Vathek.’” He laughed heartily at the different sorts of praise bestowed by Lord Byron on “Vathek,” equal to Rasselas, like Mackenzie. Lord Byron tried many times to get a sight of the Eps [?], often intreated the Duchess to intercede with her father. He once called with “Vathek” in his pocket, which he styled “his gospel.” Moore’s “Lallah Rookh” has too much western sentimentality for an Oriental romance, the common fault of most writers of such stories. Beckford prefers Moore’s Melodies, and likes the “Loves of Angels” least of all. “Fudge Family” he thinks admirable.
Speaking of the triumph he achieved in writing as an Englishman a work which was supposed for years to be
by a Frenchman, he said: “Oh, my great uncle did more than me. Did you never read ‘Memories of the Duke of Grammont?’ Voltaire told me he was entirely indebted to my great uncle for whatever beauty of style he might possess. French is just the same as English to me. He showed me the Eps.”
October 31.—Went out and accidentally met Mr. Beckford speaking in praise of his West, who painted expressly for Mr. Beckford. I said, “How did you get him to paint it so soft? I suppose you particularly requested him to do so.” “Oh no. Mr. West was a man who would stand no dictation; had I uttered such a thought he would have kicked me out of the house! Oh no, that would never have done. The only way to get him to avoid his hard outline would be to entreat him to paint harder. West came one day laughing to me, and said, “All London is in ecstasy beholding the Lazarus in Sebo Deltz, painted they say by M. A. Ha! ha! they don’t know it is my painting. L., who brought the picture over, came to me in the greatest distress, ‘The set is ruined by the salt water; you must try and restore the Lazarus.’ I was shut up for two days, and painted the Lazarus.” On my asking if he believed it true, Mr. Beckford replied, “Perfectly true, for I saw it lying on the floor and the figure of Lazarus was quite gone.” “Then you don’t value that picture much?” “All the rest is perfect, and I offered £12,000 for that and four more. I saw in the Escurial the marriage of Isaac and Rebecca, now belonging to the Duke of Wellington. In fact, of all the pictures in the collection there is not more than one in ten that has escaped repainting. The picture given by H. Carr I cannot admire, the outline of the hill is so hard. It is just the picture Satan would show poor Claude, if he has him, which we charitably hope he has not.”