While at Genoa D’Orsay drew Byron’s portrait, which afterward formed the frontispiece to Lady Blessington’s Conversations of Lord Byron, which is quite the most realistic and skilful of her ladyship’s works of fiction. The poet gave the painter a ring, a souvenir not to be worn for it was too large. It was made of lava, “and so far adapted to the fire of his years and character,” so Byron wrote to Lady Blessington, through whose hand he conveyed the gift, perchance deeming that by so doing he would enhance its value.
Byron’s yacht, the Bolivar, was purchased by Blessington for £300, having cost many times that sum. The vessel was fitted in the most sumptuous manner; soft cushions, alluring couches, marble baths, every extravagance that the heart of a woman could conceive or the purse of man pay for; suitable surroundings for our modern Antony and Cleopatra.
VI
PILGRIMS OF LOVE
“The Pilgrims from St James’ Square” travelled onward through Florence to Rome, from which latter city they were driven in haste by the heat and the fear of malaria; so to Naples where they arrived on July 17th. It was from the hill above the Campo Santo that they gained their first view of the town where they were to spend so many happy hours. On the brow of the eminence the postilions pulled up the horses, so that the travellers might at their leisure survey the wonderful panorama; the towers, the steeples, the domes, the palaces, the multitude of gardens, the blue waters of the famous Bay; Vesuvius outlined against the spotless sky; from behind the Isle of Capri the sun sending up broad shafts of light; directly below them the high walls and the solemn cedars of the city of the dead.
At the hotel Gran Bretagna, facing the sea, they secured comfortable quarters commanding a fine view over the Bay, which enchanted Lady Blessington. But it was quickly decided that a less noisy abode was desirable, and after a prolonged house-hunting the Palazzo Belvedere at Vomero was engaged. Before they could move into it English comforts had to be superimposed upon Italian magnificence, much to the amazement of the Prince and Princess Belvedere, who had not found their home lacking in anything material. Blessington must have been born with the bump of extravagance highly developed, and Lady Blessington did not do anything to depress it. The gardens of the Palazzo were superb and delightful the views they commanded. So in these luxurious surroundings the toil-worn travellers settled down to contentment—though the heat was intense.
Of the rooms we may note that the salon was a spacious apartment, of which the four corners were turned into so many independent territories, of which one was occupied by Lady Blessington’s paper-strewn table, and another by D’Orsay’s, artistically untidy; the others were allotted to Marianne Power and to young Charles Mathews. Blessington had his own private sanctum, in which he busied himself with literary and artistic enterprises, all of which were still-born, except a novel, concerning which Jekyll gives this advice: “Don’t read Lord Blessington’s Reginald de Vavasour … duller than death.”
How charming a morning spent in that salon in that charming company: the Lady of the House, romantic and tender; D’Orsay, debonair and gracious; Marianne, pretty, never in the way, never out of it when her company was wanted; and gay, young Charles Mathews intent upon his drawings. To them enter, upon occasion fitting or otherwise, the Lord of the House, too full of his own affairs to heed the affair that was going on before his eyes, or heedless of it, who can say which; now bestowing a caress upon his adoring wife, now casting a heavy jest to his young protégé, the Count; now summoning Mathews to come into his room and discuss the plans for the superb home that he was going to build in Ireland, but which remained a castle in the air.
Charles James Mathews, who was born December 26th, 1803, was in his early years destined for the Church, but his exuberant high spirits scarcely foreshadowed success in that walk of life. Having evinced a decided taste for architecture, he was articled to Augustus Pugin, whose office he entered in 1819. Charles James was a lively lad, quick of wit and ready of tongue, a well-read young fellow, too. In August, 1823, the elder Mathews received a letter from Blessington, who had returned from Italy and with whom he had long been intimately acquainted, expressing his intention to build a house at Mountjoy Forest and to give the younger Mathews “an opportunity of making his début as an architect.” So off to the North of Ireland went Charles James, and for a couple of months lived a very jolly life with his “noble patron.” The plans for the new house were approved, but it was considered necessary to consult Lady Blessington before any final decisions were arrived at, and, eventually, the whole scheme was shelved. Young Mathews was invited by Blessington to accompany him on his return to Italy, and—says Mathews—“on the twenty-first of September, 1823, eyes were wiped and handkerchiefs waved, as, comfortably ensconced in the well-laden travelling carriage, four post-horses rattled us away from St James’ Square.”