LETTER CCCVIII. TO MR. MOORE. Verona, Nov. 6, 1816. under arrest, I went and got him out of his confine ment, but could not prevent his being sent off, which, indeed, he partly deserved, being quite in the wrong, and having begun a row for row's sake. "MY DEAR MOORE, I had preceded the Austrian government some "Your letter, written before my departure from weeks myself, in giving him his congé from Geneva. England and addressed to me in London, only He is not a bad fellow, but very young and hotreached me recently. Since that period, I have headed, and more likely to incur diseases than tc been over a portion of that part of Europe which I cure them. Hobhouse and myself found it useless had not really seen. About a month since, I crossed to intercede for him. This happened some time the Alps from Switzerland to Milan, which I left a before we left Milan. He is gone to Florence. few days ago, and am thus far on my way to Venice, "At Milan I saw, and was visited by, Monti, the where I shall probably winter. Yesterday I was on most celebrated of the living Italian poets. He the shores of the Benacus, with his fluctibus et seems near sixty: in face he is like the late Cooke fremitu. Catullus's Sirmium has still its name and the actor. His frequent changes in politics have site, and is remembered for his sake; but the very made him very unpopular as a man. I saw many heavy autumnal rains and mists prevented our quit- more of their literati; but none whose names are ting our route (that is, Hobhouse and myself, who well known in England, except Acerbi. I lived are at present voyaging together,) as it was better much with the Italians, particularly with the Marnot to see it all than to a great disadvantage. quis of Breme's family, who are very able and "I found on the Benacus the same tradition of a intelligent men, especially the Abate. There was a city still visible in calm weather below the waters, famous improvisatore who held forth while I was which you have preserved of Lough Neagh, 'When there. His fluency astonished me; but although I the clear, cold eve's declining.' I do not know that understand Italian, and speak it, (with more readiit is authorized by records; but they tell you such a ness than accuracy,) I could only carry off a few story, and say that the city was swallowed up by an very common-place mythological images, and one earthquake. We moved to-day over the frontier to line about Artemisia, and another about Algiers, Verona, by a road suspected of thieves- the wise with sixty words of an entire tragedy about Etiocles convey it call,'-but without molestation. I shall and Polynices. Some of the Italians liked himremain here a day or two to gape at the usual mar- others called his performance 'seccatura' (a devilish vels-amphitheatre, paintings, and all that time-tax good word, by-the-way)-and all Milan was in conof travel-though Catullus, Claudian, and Shaks-troversy about him. peare have done more for Verona than it ever did "The state of morals in these parts is in some for itself. They still pretend to show, I believe, sort lax. A mother and son were pointed out at the tomb of all the Capulets'-we shall see. the theatre, as being pronounced by the Milanese * "Among many things at Milan, one pleased me world to be of the Theban dynasty-but this was particularly, viz., the correspondence (in the pret-all. The narrator (one of the first men in Milan) tiest love-letters in the world) of Lucretia Borgia seemed to be not sufficiently scandalized by the with Cardinal Bembo, (who, you say, made a very taste or the tie. All society in Milan is carried on good cardinal,) and a lock of her hair, and some at the opera: they have private boxes, where they Spanish verses of hers,-the lock very fair and play at cards, or talk, or any thing else; but beautiful. I took one single hair of it as a relic, (except at the cassino) there are no open houses, and wished sorely to get a copy of one or two of the or balls, &c., &c. letters; but it is prohibited: that I don't mind; but it was impracticable; and so I only got some of them by heart. They are kept in the Ambrosian Library, "The peasant girls have all very fine dark eyes, which I often visited to look them over-to the and many of them are beautiful. There are also scandal of the librarian, who wanted to enlighten me two dead bodies in fine preservation-one Saint with sundry valuable MSS., classical, philosophical, Carlo Boromeo, at Milan; the other not a saint, and pious. But I stick to the Pope's daughter, and but a chief, named Visconti, at Monza-both of wish myself a cardinal. * * * which appeared very agreeable. In one of the "I have seen the finest parts of Switzerland, the Baromean isles, (the Isola bella,) there is a large Rhine, the Rhone, and the Swiss and Italian lakes; laurel-the largest known-on which Bonaparte, for the beauties of which I refer you to the guide- staying there just before the battle of Marengo, book. The north of Italy is tolerably free from the carved with his knife the word 'Battaglia.' I saw English; but the south swarms with them, I am the letters, now half worn out and partly erased. told. Madame de Staël I saw frequently at Copet, "Excuse this tedious letter. To be tiresome is which she renders remarkably pleasant. She has the privilege of old age and absence: I avail myself been particularly kind to me. I was for some of the latter, and the former I have anticipated. If months her neighbor, in a country-house called I do not speak to you of my own affairs, it is not Diodati, which I had on the Lake of Geneva. My from want of confidence, but to spare you and myself. plans are very uncertain; but it is probable that My day is over-what then?—I have had it. To be you will see me in England in the spring. I have sure, I have shortened it; * and if I had done as some business there. If you write to me, will you much by this letter, it would have been as well. address to the care of Mons. Hentsch, Banquier, But you will forgive that, if not the other faults of Geneva, who receives and forwards my letters. "Yours, ever and most affectionately, "B" Remember me to Rogers, who wrote to me lately, with a short account of your poem, which, I trust, is near the light. He speaks of it most highly. "Nov. 7, 1816. My health is very endurable, except that I am "P. S. I have been over Verona. The amphisubject to casual giddiness and faintnesses, which theatre is wonderful-beats even Greece. Of the is so like a fine lady, that I am rather ashamed of truth of Juliet's story, they seem tenacious to a the disorder. When I sailed, I had a physician with degree, insisting on the fact-giving a date, (1303,) me, whom, after some months of patience, I found and showing a tomb. It is a plain, open, and partly it expedient to part with, before I left Geneva some decayed sarcophagus, with withered leaves in it, in time. On arriving at Milan, I found this gentleman a wild and desolate conventual garden, once a cemin very good society, where he prospered for some etery, now ruined to the very graves. The situation weeks; but, at length, at the theatre, he quarrelled struck me as very appropriate to the legend, being with an Austrian officer, and was sent out by the blighted as their love. I have brought away a government in twenty-four hours. I was not present at his squabble; but on hearing that he was put * See Don Juan, canto i., stanza ccxiii., &c. few pieces of the granite, to give my daughter | Persian and Syriac, &c.; besides works of their and my nieces. Of the other marvels of this own people. Four years ago the French instituted city, paintings, antiquities, &c., excepting the an Armenian professorship. Twenty pupils pretombs of the Scaliger princes, I have no pretensions sented themselves on Monday morning, full of noble to judge. The Gothic monuments of the Scaligers pleased me, but a poor virtuoso am I,' and "Ever yours." upon others. LETTER CCCIX. TO MR. MOORE. "Venice, Nov. 17, 1816. ardor, ingenuous youth, and impregnable industry. They persevered, with a courage worthy of the nation, and of universal conquest, till Thursday; when fifteen of the twenty succumbed to the sixand-twentieth letter of the alphabet. It is, to be sure, a Waterloo of an alphabet-that must be said for them. But it is so like these fellows, to do by it as they did by their sovereigns-abandon both; to parody the old rhymes, 'Take a thing and give a thing' Take a king and give a king. They are the worst of animals, except their conquerors. a "I hear that Hodgson is your neighbor, having I wrote to you from Verona the other day in my living in Derbyshire. You will find him an excelprogress hither, which letter I hope you will receive. lent-hearted fellow, as well as one of the cleverest; Some three years ago, or it may be more, I recollect your telling me that you had received a letter from in the church, and the tuition of youth, as well as a little, perhaps too much, japanned by preferment our friend Sam, dated 'On board his gondola.' My inoculated with the disease of domestic felicity, gondola is, at this present, waiting for me on the besides being overrun with fine feelings about canal; but I prefer writing to you in the house, it being autumn-and rather an English autumn than which people exact so rigidly, receive in such counwoman and constancy, (that small change of love, otherwise. It is my intention to remain at Venice terfeit coin, and repay in baser metal;) but, otherduring the winter, probably, as it has always been wise, a very worthy man, who has lately got a pretty (next to the East) the greenest island of my wife, and (I suppose) a child by this time. Pray imagination. It has not disappointed me; though remember me to him, and say that I know not which its evident decay would, perhaps, have that effect to envy most-his neighborhood, him, or you. But I have been familiar with ruins "Of Venice I shall say little. You must have too long to dislike desolation. Besides, I have fallen in love, which, next to falling into the canal, like. It is a poetical place; and classical, to us, seen many descriptions; and they are most of them (which would be of no use, as I can swim,) is the from Shakspeare and Otway.* I have not yet best or the worst thing I could do. I have got sinned against it in verse, nor do I know that I some extremely good apartments in the house of a shall do so, having been tuneless since I crossed the Merchant of Venice,' who is a good deal occupied Alps, and feeling, as yet, no renewal of the 'estro. with business, and has a wife in her twenty-second By-the-way, I suppose you have seen 'Glenaryear. Marianna (that is her name) is in her ap-von. Madame de Staël lent it to me to read from. pearance altogether like an antelope. She has large, black, oriental eyes, with that peculiar ex- authoress had written the truth, and nothing but Copet last autumn. It seems to me, that if the pression in them which is seen rarely among Euro- the truth-the whole truth-the romance would not peans-even the Italians-and which many of the only have been more romantic, but more entertainTurkish women give themselves by tinging the ing. As for the likeness, the picture can't be good eye-lid,—an art not known out of the country, I did not sit long enough. When you have leibelleve. This expression she has naturally-and something more than this. In short, I cannot sure, let me hear from and of you, believing me ever and truly yours, most affectionately, describe the effect of this kind of eye,-at least upon me. "P. S. Oh! your poem-is it out? I hope LongHer features are regular, and rather acquiline-mouth small-skin clear and soft, with a man has paid his thousands: but don't you do as kind of hectic color-forehead remarkably good; Horace Twiss' father did, who, having made money her hair is of the dark gloss, curl, and color of Lady 10! his vinegar turned sweet (and be d-d to it) and by a quarto tour, became a vinegar merchant; when Jersey's her figure is light and pretty, and she is a famous songstress-scientifically so: her natural ruined him. My last letter to you (from Verona) voice (in conversation, I mean) is very sweet; and was enclosed to Murray-have you got it? Direct the naïveté of the Venetian dialect is always pleasing to me here, poste restante. There are no English here at present. There were several in Switzerland -some women; but, except Lady Dalrymple Hamilton, most of them as ugly as virtue—at least, those in the mouth of a woman. "Nov. 23. I "You will perceive that my description, which was proceeding with the minuteness of a passport, has been interrupted for several days. In the mean time, "Dec. 5. "Since my former dates, I do not know that I have much to add on the subject, and, luckily, nothing to take away; for I am more pleased than ever with my Venetian, and begin to feel very serious on that point,-so much so, that I shall be * * * that I saw." LETTER CCCX. TO MR. MOORE. B. "Venice, Dec. 24, 1816. "I have taken a fit of writing to you, which portends postage-once from Verona-once from Vesilent. nice, and again from Venice-thrice that is. For "By way of divertisement, I am studying daily, this you may thank yourself, for I heard that you at an Armenian monastery, the Armenian language. complained of my silence-so, here goes for a garI found that my mind wanted something craggy to rulity. break upon; and this-as the most difficult thing I "I I trust that you received my other twain of letcould discover here for an amusement-I have ters. My way of life' (or 'May of life,' which is chosen, to torture me into attention. It is a rich it, according to the commentators?)-my way of language, however, and would amply repay any one life' is fallen into great regularity. In the mornthe trouble of learning it. I try, and shall go on; ings I go over in my gondola to hobble Armenian but I answer for nothing, least of all for my inten- with the friars of the convent of St. Lazarus, and tions or my success. There are some very curious to help one of them in correcting the English of an MSS. in the monastery, as well as books; translations also from Greek originals, now lost, and from * See Childe Harold, canto iv., stanzas iv. and xviüii. English and Armenian grammar which he is pub-may have the like effect. Now we'll return to lishing. In the evenings I do one of many nothings Venice. either at the theatres, or some of the conversa- "The day after to-morrow (to-morrow being ziones, which are like our routs, or rather worse, for Christmas day) the Carnival begins. I dine with the women sit in a semicircle by the lady of the the Countess Albrizzi and a party, and go to the mansion, and the men stand about the room. To opera.* On that day the Phenix (not the insurance be sure, there is one improvement upon ours-instead office but the theatre of that name) opens: I have of lemonade with their ices, they hand about stiff got me a box there for the season, for two reasons, rum-punch-punch, by my palate! and this they one of which is, that the music is remarkably good. think English. I would not disabuse them of so The Contessa Albrizzi, of whom I have made menagreeable an error,-' no, not for Venice.' tion, is the De Staël of Venice, not young, but a "Last night I was at the Count Governor's, very learned, unaffected, good-natured woman, very which, of course, comprises the best society, and is polite to strangers, and, I believe, not at all dissovery much like other gregarious meetings in every lute, as most of the women are. She has written country, as in ours,-except that, instead of the very well on the works of Canova, and also a volume bishop of Winchester, you have the patriarch of of characters, besides other printed matter. She is Venice; and a motley crew of Austrians, Germans, of Corfu, but married a dead Venetian-that is, noble Venetians, foreigners, and, if you see a quiz, dead since he married. you may be sure he is a consul. Oh, by-the-way, Í I "My flame (my 'Donna') whom I spoke of in my forgot, when I wrote from Verona, to tell you that at former epistle, my Marianna, and I her-what she Milan I met with a countryman of yours-a Colonel pleases. She is by far the prettiest woman I have ****, a very excellent, good-natured fellow, who seen here, and the most loveable I have met with knows and shows all about Milan, and is, as it were, any where-as well as one of the most singular. I a native there. He is particularly civil to strangers, believe I told you the rise and progress of our liaison and this is his history,- at least, an episode in my former letter. Lest that should not have of it. reached you, I will merely repeat that she is a Vene"Six-and-twenty years ago Col. ****, then an tian, two-and twenty years old, married to a merensign, being in Italy, fell in love with the Marchesa chant well to do in the world, and that she has great ****, and she with him. The lady must be, at black oriental eyes, and all the qualities which her least, twenty years his senior. The war broke out; eyes promise. Whether being in love with her has he returned to England, to serve-not his country, steeled me or not, I do not know; but I have not for that's Ireland but England, which is a different seen many other women who seem pretty. The thing; and she-heaven knows what she did. In nobility, in particular, are a sad-looking race-the the year 1814, the first annunciation of the defini- gentry rather better. And now, what art thou tive treaty of peace (and tyranny) was developed to doing? "What are you doing now, Oh, Thomas Moore? the astonished Milanese by the arrival of Col. **** who, flinging himself full length at the feet of Madame ****, murmured forth, in half-forgotten Irish Italian, eternal vows of indelible constancy. The lady screamed and exclaimed, Who are you?' The Colonel cried, 'What, don't you know me? I am so and so,' &c., &c., &c.; till, at length, the Marchesa, mounting from reminiscence to reminiscence, through the lovers of the intermediate Are you not near the Luddites? By the Lord! if twenty-five years, arrived at last at the recollection there's a row, but I'll be among ye! How go on of her povero sub-lieutenant. She then said, 'Was the weavers-the breakers of frames-the Lutherans there ever such virtue?' (that was her very word,) of politics-the reformers ? and, being now a widow, gave him apartments in her palace, reinstated him in all the rights of wrong, and held him up to the admiring world, as a miracle of incontinent fidelity, and the unshaken Abdiel of absence. "As the liberty lads o'er the sea Bought their freedom, and cheaply, with blood, Will die fighting, or live free, We will fling the winding-sheet And dye it deep in the gore he has pour'd. "Methinks this is as pretty a moral tale as any of Marmontel's. Here is another. The same lady, several years ago, made an escapade with a Swede, Count Fersen, (the same whom the Stockholm mob quartered and lapidated not very long since,) and they arrived at an osteria on the road to Rome, or thereabouts. It was a summer evening, and, while they were at supper, they were suddenly regaled by a symphony of fiddles in an adjacent apartment, so prettily played, that, wishing to hear them more distinctly, the Count rose, and going into the musical society, said, 'Gentlemen, I am sure that, as There's an amiable chanson for you—all impromptu a company of gallant cavaliers, you will be delighted I have written it principally to shock to show your skill to a lady, who feels anxious,' Hodgson, who is all clergy and loyalty-mirth and your neighbo &c., &c. The men of harmony were all acquies-innocence-milk and water. cence every instrument was tuned and toned, and, striking up one of their most ambrosial airs, the whole band followed the Count to the lady's apartment. At their head was the first fiddler, who, bowing and fiddling at the same moment, headed his troop and advanced up the room. Death and discord!—it was the Marquis himself, who was on a serenading party in the country, while his spouse had run away from town. The rest may be imagined-but, first of all, the lady tried to persuade "But the Carnival's coming, Oh, Thomas Moore Oh, Thomas Moore. him that she was there on purpose to meet him, The other night I saw a new play,—and the author and had chosen this method for an harmonic sur- The subject was the sacrifice of Isaac. The play prise. So much for this gossip, which amused me when I heard it, and I send it to you, in the hope it → See Letter cxxvii. succeeded, and they called for the author-according and regret the rattle of hackney-coaches, without to continental custom-and he presented himself, a which they can't sleep. committee. noble Venetian Mali, or Malapiero, by name. Mala "I have got remarkably good apartments in a was his name, and pessima his production,—at least, private house; I see something of the inhabitants, I thought so, and I ought to know, having read (having had a good many letters to some of them;) more or less of five hundred Drury-Lane offerings, I have got my gondola; I read a little, and luckily during my coadjutorship with the sub-and-super could speak Italian (more fluently than correctly) long ago. I am studying, out of curiosity, the "When does your poem of poems come out? I Venetian dialect, which is very naïve, and soft, and hear that the Edinburgh Review has cut up Cole- peculiar, though not at all classical; I go out freridge's Christabel, and declared against me for prais-quently, and am in very good contentment. ing it.* I praised it, firstly, because I thought well "The Helen of Canova (a bust which is in the of it; secondly, because Coleridge was in great dis- house of Madame the Countess d'Albrizzi, whom I tress, and, after doing what little I could for him in know), is without exception, to any mind, the most essentials, I thought that the public avowal of my perfectly beautiful of human conceptions, and far good opinion might help him farther, at least with beyond my ideas of human execution. the booksellers. I am very sorry that Jeffrey has attacked him, because, poor fellow! it will hurt him in mind and pocket. As for me, he's welcome-I shall never think less of Jeffrey for any thing he may say aginst me or mine in future.† 'In this beloved marble view,' &c.* Talking of the heart' reminds me that I have fallen in love, which, except falling into the canal, "I suppose Murray has sent you, or will send (and that would be useless, as I swim,) is the best (for I do not know whether they are out or no,) the (or worst) thing I could do. I am therefore in love puem, or poesies of mine, of last summer. By the fathomless love; but lest you should make some mass! they're sublime-Ganion Coheriza-gainsay splendid mistake, and envy me the possession of who dares! Pray, let me hear from you, and of some of those princesses or countesses with whose you, and at least, let me know that you have received affections your English voyagers are apt to invest these three letters. Direct, right here, poste restante. themselves, I beg leave to tell you that my goddess "Ever and ever, &c. is only the wife of a Merchant of Venice;' but then she is pretty as an antelope, is but two-and"P. S. I heard the other day of a pretty trick of twenty years old, has the large, black, oriental eyes, a bookseller, who has published some d-d nonsense, with the Italian countenance, and dark glossy hair, swearing the bastards to me, and saying he gave me of the curl and color of Lady Jersey's. Then she five hundred guineas for them. He lies-I never has the voice of a lute, and the song of a seraph, wrote such stuff, never saw the poems, nor the pub-(though not quite so sacred,) besides a long postlisher of them, in my life, nor had any communica- script of graces, virtues, and accomplishments, tion, directly or indirectly, with the fellow. Pray enough to furnish out a new chapter of Solomon's say as much for me, if need be. I have written to Song. I have written to Song. But her great merit is in finding out mine, Murray, to make him contradict the impostor. LETTER CCCXI. TO MR. MURRAY. "Venice, Nov. 25, 1816. "It is some months since I have heard from or of there is nothing so amiable as discernment. Our little arrangement is completed, the usual oaths having been taken, and every thing fulfilled according to the understood relations' of such liaisons. "The general race of women appear to be handsome but in Italy, as on almost all the continent, The highest orders are by no means a well-looking generation, and indeed reckoned by their countrymen very much otherwise. Some are exceptions, but most of them are as ugly as Virtue herself. cept in a letter now and then from my sister. Of received it, and are to publish it, &c., &c.; but when, the MS. sent you, I know nothing, except you have where, and how, you leave me to guess; but it don't "If you write, address to me here, poste restante, you-I think, not since I left Diodati. From Milan as I shall probably stay the winter over. I never see I wrote once or twice; but have been here some a newspaper and know nothing about England, exlittle time, and intend to pass the winter without removing. I was much pleased with the Lago di Garda, and with Verona, particularly the amphitheatre, and a sarcophagus in a convent garden, which they show as Juliet's; they insist on the truth of her history. Since my arrival at Venice, the lady of the Austrian governor told me that between Verona and Vicenza there are still ruins of the castle of the Montecchi, and a chapel once appertaining to the Capulets. Romeo seems to have been of Vicenza, by the tradition; but I was a good deal surprised to find so firm a faith in Bandello's novel, which seems really to have been founded on a fact. through your process for next year? When does "I suppose you have a world of works passing Moore's Poem appear? I sent a letter for him, addressed to your care the other day." LETTER CCCXII. TO MR. MURRAY. "Venice, Dec. 4, 1816. "Venice pleases me as much as I expected, and I expected much. It is one of those places which I know before I see them, and has always haunted me the most after the East. I like the gloomy gayety of their gondolas, and the silence of their canals. I "I have written to you so frequently of late. that do not even dislike the evident decay of the city, you will think me a bore; as I think you a very imthough I regret the singularity of its vanished cos- polite person for not answering my letters from tume: however, there is much left still, the Carni- Switzerland, Milan, Verona, and Venice. There are val, too, is coming. some things I wanted, and want to know; viz. "St. Mark's, and indeed Venice, is most alive whether Mr. Davies, of inaccurate memory, had or at night. The theatres are not open till nine, had not delivered the MS. as delivered to him; beand the society is proportionably late. All this is cause, if he has not, you will find that he will bounto my taste, but most of your countrymen miss tifully bestow transcriptions on all the curious of his acquaintance, in which case you may probably find • See note 6 to the Siege of Corinth. * See Poems, p. 571. your publication anticipated by the Cambridge,' or and I desire that it may receive the most public and other Chronicles. In the next place-I forget what unqualified contradiction. I do not know that there was next; but, in the third place, I want to hear is any punishment for a thing of this kind, and it whether you have yet published, or when you mean there were, I should not feel disposed to pursue this to do so, or why you have not done so, because in ingenious mountebank farther than was necessary your last, (Sept. 20,-you may be ashamed of the for his confutation; but thus far it may be necessadate,) you talked of this being done immediately. ry to proceed. "From England I hear nothing, and know no- "You will make what use you please of this letthing of any thing or any body. I have but one cor- ter; and Mr.. Kinnaird, who has power to act for respondent, (except Mr. Kinnaird on business now me in my absence, will, I am sure, readily join you and then,) and her a female; so that I know no in any steps which it may be proper to take with remore of your island, or city, than the Italian version gard to the absurd falsehood of this poor creature. of the French papers chooses to tell me, or the ad- As you will have recently received several letters vertisements of Mr. Colburn tagged to the end of from me on my way to Venice, as well as two writyour Quarterly Review for the year ago. I wrote to ten since my arrival, I will not at present trouble you at some length last week, and have little to add, you farther. "Ever, &c. except that I have begun, and am proceeding in, a "P. S. Pray let me hear that you have received study of the Armenian language, which I acquire, this letter. Address to Venice, poste restante. as well as I can, at the Armenian convent, where I "To prevent the recurrence of similar fabricago every day to take lessons of a learned friar, and tions, you may state, that I consider myself responhave gained some singular and not useless informa-sible for no publication from the year 1812 up to the tion with regard to the literature and customs of that present date, which is not from your press. I speak oriental people. They have an establishment here of course from that period, because, previously, -a church and a convent of ninety monks-very Cawthorne and Ridge had both printed compositions learned and accomplished men, some of them. They of mine. 'A Pilgrimage to Jerusalem!' how the have also a press, and make great efforts for the en-devil should I write about Jerusalem, never having lightening of their nation. I find the language yet been there? As for 'A Tempest,' it was not a which is twin, the literal and the vulgar) difficult, tempest when I left England, but a very fresh breeze: but not invincible, (at least, I hope not.) I shall go and as to an 'Address to Little Ada,' (who, by-theon. I found it necessary to twist my mind round way, is a year old to-morrow,) I never wrote a line some severe study, and this, as being the hardest I about her, except in ' Farewell,' and the third canto could devise here, will be a file for the serpent. of Childe Harold." LETTER CCCXIV. TO MR. MURRAY. "Venice, Dec. 27, 1816. "I mean to remain here till the spring, so address to me directly to Venice, poste restante.-Mr. Hobhouse, for the present has gone to Rome, with his brother, brother's wife, and sister, who overtook him here; he returns in two months. I should have gone too, but I fell in love, and must stay that over. I should think that and the Armenian alphabet will last the winter. The lady has, luckily for me, been less obdurate than the language, or, between the two, I should have lost my remains of "As the demon of silence seems to have possanity. By-the-way she is not an Armenian but a sessed you, I am determined to have my revenge in Venetian, as I believe I told you in my last. As postage: this is my sixth or seventh letter since for Italian, I am fluent enough, even in its Venetian summer and Switzerland. My last was an injuncmodification, which is something like the Somerset- tion to contradict and consign to confusion that shire version of English; and as for the more clas- Cheapside impostor, who (I heard by a letter from sical dialects, I had not forgot my former practice your island) had thought proper to append my name much during my voyaging. to his spurious poesy, of which I know nothing, nor of his pretended purchase of copyright. I hope you have, at least, received that letter. "As the news of Venice must be very interesting to you, I will regale you with it. "Yours, ever and truly, "P. S. Remember me to Mr. Gifford." LETTER CCCXIII. TO MR. MURRAY. "Venice, Dec. 9, 1816. Yesterday, being the feast of St. Stephen, every mouth was put in motion. There was nothing but fiddling and playing on the virginals, and all kinds of conceits and divertisements, on every canal of this aquatic city. I dined with the Countess Albrizza and a Paduan and Venetian party, and afterward went to the opera, at the Fenice theatre (which opens for the Carnival on that day,)-the finest, bythe-way, I have ever seen: it beats our theatres In a letter from England, I am informed that a hollow in beauty and scenery, and those of Milan man named Johnson has taken upon himself to and Brescia bow before it. The opera and its sirens publish some poems called a 'Pilgrimage to Jeru- were much like other operas and women, but the salem, a Tempest, and an Address to my Daughter,' subject of the said opera was something edifying; it &c., and to attribute them to me, adding that he turned-the plot and conduct thereof-upon a fact had paid five hundred guineas for them. The an- narrated by Livy of a hundred and fifty married laswer to this is short: I never wrote such poems, nev-dies having poisioned a hundred and fifty husbands er received the sum he mentions, nor any other in the in good old times. The bachelors of Rome believed same quarter, nor (as far as moral or mortal certainty this extraordinary mortality to be merely the comcan be sure), ever had, directly or indirectly, the mon effect of matrimony or a pestilence; but the slightest communication with Johnson in my life; surviving Benedicts, being all seized with the colic, not being aware that the person existed till this examined into the matter, and found that their intelligence gave me to understand that there were possets had been drugged;' the consequence of such people. Nothing surprises me, or this perhaps which was, much scandal and several suits at law. would, and most things amuse me, or this probably This is really and truly the subject of the musical would not. With regard to myself, the man has piece at the Fenice; and you can't conceive what merely lied; that's natural-his betters have set pretty things are sung and recitativoed about the him the example: but with regard to you, his asser-horrenda strage. The conclusion was a lady's head tion mov nerhaps iniure vou in your publications; 'about to be chopped off by a lictor, but (I am sorry |