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a “ Merchant of Venice,” who is a dustry. They persevered with a cougood deal occupied with business, and rage worthy of the nation and of unihas a wife in her twenty-second year. versal conquest, till Thursday; when Marianna (that is her name) is in her fifteen of the twenty succumbed to the appearance altogether like an antelope. six and twentieth letter of the alphabet. She has the large, black, oriental eyes, It is, to be sure, a Waterloo of 'an Alwith that peculiar expression in them phabet that must be said for them. which is seen rarely among Europeans But it is so like these fellows, to do by it
-even the Italians—and which many as they did by their sovereigns-abanof the Turkish women give themselves don both; to parody the old rhymes, by tinging the eyelid-an art not known “Take a thing and give a thing”out of that country, I believe. This - Take a king and give a king. They expression she has naturally -- and are the worst of animals, except their something more than this. In short, I conquerors. cannot describe the effect of this kind I hear that that H- n is your of eye—at least upon me. Her features neighbour, having a living in Derbyare regular, and rather aquiline-mouth shire. You will find him an excellent small-skin clear and soft, with a kind hearted fellow, as well as one of the of hectic colour - forehead remarkably cleverest; a little, perhaps, too much good; her hair is of the dark gloss, japanned by preferment in the church curl, and colour of Lady J ••'s; her and the tuition of youth, as well as figure is light and pretty, and she is a inoculated with the disease of domestic famous songstress — scientifically so; felicity, besides being overrun with fine her natural voice (in conversation, í feelings about women and constancy mean,) is very sweet; and the naïveté (that small change of love, which peoof the Venetian dialect is always please ple exact so rigidly, receive in such ing in the mouth of a woman.
counterfeit coin, and repay in baser November 23.
metal ;) but, otherwise, a very worthy You will perceive that my description,
man, who has lately got a pretty wife, which was proceeding with the minute
and (I suppose) a child by this time. ness of a passport, has been interrupted
Pray remember me to him, and say that for several days. In the meantime."
I know not which to envy most - his neighbourhood, him, or you.
Of Venice I shall say little. You December 5.
must have seen many descriptions; and Since my former dates, I do not know
they and they are most of them like. It
they and they are m that I have much to add on the subject,
is a poetical place; and classical, to us, and, luckily, nothing to take away; for from Shakspeare and Otway. I have I am more pleased than ever with my not yet sinned against it in verse, nor Venetian, and begin to feel very serious
do I know that I shall do so, having on that point so much so, that I shall
been tuneless since I crossed the Alps, be silent.
and feeling, as yet, no renewal of the
“ estro." By the way, I suppose you By way of divertisement, I am study- have seen “Glenarvon." Madame de ing daily, at an Armenian monastery, Staël lent it me to read from Copet last the Armenian language. I found that autumn. It seems to me that, if the my mind wanted something craggy to authoress had written the truth, and break upon ; and this as the most diffi- nothing but the truth-the whole truth cult thing I could discover here for an -the romance would not only have been amusement,I have chosen, to torture more romantic, but more entertaining. me into attention. It is a rich language, As for the likeness, the picture can't be however, and would amply repay any good- I did not sit long enough. When one the trouble of learning it. I try, you have leisure, let me hear from and and shall go on ;-but I answer for no- of you, believing me ever and truly yours thing, least of all for my intentions or most affectionately. my success. There are some very cu- P.S. Oh! your Poem-is it out? I rious MSS. in the monastery, as well as hope Longman has paid his thousands; books; translations also from Greek but don't you do as H**T**'s father originals, now lost, and from Persian did, who, having, made money by a and Syriac, &c.; besides works of their quarto tour, became a vinegar merchant; own people. Four years ago the French when, lo! his vinegar turned sweet instituted an Armenian professorship (and be d-d to it) and ruined him. Twenty pupils presented themselves on My last letter to you (from Verona) was Monday morning, full of noble ardour, inclosed to Murray-have you got it? ingenuous youth, and impregnable in- Direct to me here, poste restante.
There are no English here at present. war broke out; he returned to EngThere were several in Switzerland land, to serve--not his country, for that's some women ; but, except Lady Dal- Ireland, but England, which is a diffe. rymple Hamilton, most of them as rent thing; and she, heaven knows what ugly as virtue-at least those that I she did. In the year 1814, the first saw."
annunciation of the definitive treaty of peace (and tyranny) was developed to the astonished Milanese by the arrival
of Colonel To Mr. Moore.
who flinging him
self full length at the feet of Madame “Venice, December 24th, 1816.
****, murmured forth, in half for“I have taken a fit of writing to you, gotten Irish Italian, eternal vows of inwhich portends postage-once from delible constancy. The lady screamed, Verona-once from Venice, and again and exclaimed Who are you?' The from Venice--thrice that is. For this colonel cried, • What, don't you know you may thank yourself, for I heard me? I am so and so,' &c. &c. &c.; till that you complained of my silence—so at length, the Marchesa, mounting from here goes for garrulity.
reminiscence, to reminiscence, through “I trust that you received my other the lovers of the intermediate twentytwain of letters. My way of life' (or five years, arrived at last at the recol. May of life,' which is it, according to lection of her povero sub-lieutenant. the commentators ?)-my way of life' She then said, "Was there ever such is fallen into great regularity. In the virtue ?' (that was her very word) and, mornings I go over in my gondola to being now a widow, gave him aparthobble Armenian with the friars of the ments in her palace, reinstated him in convent of St. Lazarus, and to help one all the rights of wrong, and held him up of them in correcting the English of an to the admiring world as a miracle of English and Armenian grammar which incontinent fidelity, and the unshaken he is publishing. In the evenings I do Abdiel of absence. one of many nothings—either at the “Methinks this is ás pretty a moral theatres, or some of the conversaziones, tale as any of Marmontel's. Here is which are like our routs, or rather worse, another. The same lady, several years for the women sit in a semicircle by the ago, made an escapade with a Swede, lady of the mansion, and the men stand Count Fersen (the same whom the Stockabout the room. To be sure, there is holm mob quartered and lapidated not one improvement upon ours-instead of very long since), and they arrived at an lemonade with their ices, they hand Osteria, on the road to Rome or thereabout stiff rum-punch-punch, by my abouts. It was a summer evening, and palate ; and this they think English. I while they were at supper, they were would not disabuse them of so agreeable suddenly regaled by a symphony of fidan error—'no, not for Venice.'
dles in an adjacent apartment, so prettily “ Last night I was at the Count Go- played, that, wishing to hear them more vernor's, which, of course, comprises the distinctly, the count rose, and going into best society, and is very much like other the musical society, said — Gentlemen, gregarious meetings in every country, I am sure that, as a company of gallant as in ours--except that, instead of the cavaliers, you will be delighted to show Bishop of Winchester, you have the your skill to a lady, who feels anxious,' Patriarch of Venice; and a motley crew &c. &c. The men of harmony were of Austrians, Germans, noble Venetians, all acquiescence-every instrument was foreigners, and, if you see a quiz, you tuned and toned, and, striking up one of may be sure he is a consul. Oh, by the their most ambrosial airs, the whole band way, I forgot, when I wrote from Ve- followed the count to the lady's apartrona, to tell you that at Milan I met ment. At their head was the first fiddler, with a countryman of yours—a Colonel who, bowing and fiddling at the same
a very excellent, good-natured moment, headed his troop, and advanced fellow, who knows and shows all about up the room. Death and discord !--it Milan, and is, as it were, a native there. was the marquess himself, who was on He is particularly civil to strangers, and a serenading party in the country, while this is his history—at least an episode his spouse had run away from town.-of it.
The rest may be imagined; but, first of “Six-and-twenty years ago, Colonel all, the lady tried to persuade him that
then an ensign, being in Italy, she was there on purpose to meet him, fell in love with the Marchesa
and had chosen this method for an harand she with him. The lady must be monic surprise. So much for this gossip, at least, twenty years his senior. The which amused me when I heard it, and
Yet this is the dew
I send it to you, in the hope it may have “Though black as luis beart its bue, the like effect. Now we'll return to
Since bis veins are corrupted to mud, Venice."
"The day after to-morrow (to-morrow Or Liberty, planted by Ludd! being Christmas-day) the Carnival begins. There's an amiable chanson for you-- all I dine with the Countess Albrizzi and a impromptu. I have written it principarty, and go to the opera. On that day pally to shock your neighbour the Phenix (not the Insurance Office, who is all clergy and loyalty-mirth and but) the theatre of that name opens: I innocence-milk and water. have got me a box there for the season, “ But the Carnival's coming, for two reasons, one of which is, that
Ob Thomas Moore, the music is remarkably good. The
The Carnival's coming,
Oh Thomas Moore, Contessa Albrizzi, of whom I have made
Masking and humming, mention, is the De Staël of Venice-not
Fifing and drumming, young, but a very learned, unaffected, Guitarring and strumming,
Ob Thomas Moore. good - natured woman, very polite to strangers, and, I believe, not at all disso. The other night I saw a new play-and lute, as most of the women are. She the author. The subject was the sacrihas written very well on the works office of Isaac. The play succeeded, and Canova, and also a volume of Charac- they called for the author-according to ters, besides other printed matter. She continental custom—and he presented is of Corfu, but married a dead Vene- himself: a noble Venetian, Mali, or tian-that is, dead since he married. Malapiero by name. Mala was his
“My flame (my Donna,' whom I pame, and pessima his production—at spoke of in my former epistle, my least, I thought so, and I ought to know, Marianna) is still my Marianna, and I, having read more or less of five hundred her--what she pleases. She is by far Drury-lane offerings, during my coadthe prettiest woman I have seen here, jutorship with the sub-and-super comand the most loveable I have met with mittee. any where—as well as one of the most “When does your Poem of Poems singular. I believe I told you the rise come out? I hear that the E. R. has and progress of our liaison in my former cut up Coleridge's Christabel, and deletter. Lest that should not have reached clared against me for praising it. I you, I will merely repeat that she is a praised it, firstly, because I thought well Venetian, two-and-twenty years old, of it; secondly, because Coleridge was married to a merchant well to do in the in great distress, and, after doing what world, and that she has great black little I could for him in essentials, I oriental eyes, and all the qualities which thought that the public avowal of my her eyes promise. Whether being in good opinion might help him further, at love with her has steeled me or not, I least with the booksellers. I am very do not know ; but I have not seen many sorry that J • has attacked him, other women who seem pretty. The because, poor fellow, it will hurt him in nobility, in particular, are a sad-looking mind and pocket. As for me, he's race--the gentry rather better. And welcome,-) shall never think less of now, what art thou doing ?
J * for any thing he may say against “What are you doing now,
me or mine in future.
“I suppose Murray has" sent you, or What are you doing now,
will send (for I do not know whether Sigbing or suing now,
they are out or no) the poem, or poesies, Rhyming or wooing now,
of mine, of last summer. By the mass ! Billing or cooing now,
they're sublime- Ganion Coheriza'Which, Thomas Moore ?
gainsay who dares ! Pray, let me hear Are you not near the Luddites? By from you, and of you, and, at least, let the Lord ! if there's a row, but I'll be
me know that you have received these among ye! How go on the weavers-- three letters. Direct, right here, poste the breakers of frames--the Lutherans restante.--" Ever and ever, &c.” of politics—the reformers ? “As the Liberty lads o'er the sea Bought their freedom, and cheaply, with blood,
To Mr. Murray.
“ Venice, May 30th, 1817. And down with all kings but King Ludd ! « I RETURNED from Rome two days ago, “When the web that we weave is completo,
and have received your letter; but no And the shuttle exchanged for the sword, sign nor tidings of the parcel sent through
We will ding the winding-sheet
Sir C. Stuart, which you mention. After And dye it deep in the gore he has pour'd. an interval of months, a packet of
Oh Thomas Moore ?
Ol Thomas Moore?
« Tales,' &c. found me' at Rome; but
PORSON. this is all, and may be all that ever will
“ I REMEMBER to have seen Porson at find me. The post seems to be the only
Cambridge, in the hall of our college, sure conveyance, and that only for letters. From Florence I sent you a poem
and in private parties, but not freon Tasso, and from Rome the new Third except as drunk or brutal, and generally
quently; and I never can recollect him Act of "Manfred,' and by Dr. Polidori both : I mean in an evening, for in the two portraits for my sister. I left Rome hall, he dined at the Dean's table, and and made a rapid journey home. You I at the Vice-master's, so that I was will continue to direct here as usual.
not near him; and he then and there Mr. Hobhouse is gone to Naples ; I
appeared sober in his demeanour, nor should have run down there too for a
did I ever hear of excess or outrage on week, but for the quantity of English his part in public,-commons, college, whom I heard of there. I prefer hating or chapel ; but I have seen him in a them at a distance ; , unless an earth private party of under-graduates, many quake, or a good real irruption of Ve of them freshmen and strangers, take suvius, were ensured to reconcile me to up a poker to one of them, and heard their vicinity.
him use language as blackguard as his action. I have seen Sheridan drunk,
too, with all the world ; but his intoxi“ The day before I left Rome I saw
cation was that of Bacchus, and Porthree robbers guillotined. The cere
son's that of Silenus. Of all the dismony-including the masqued priests ;
gusting brutes, sulky, abusive, and the half-naked executioners; the bandag
intolerable, Porson was the most bestial, ed criminals; the black Christ and his
as far as the few times that I saw him banner ; the scaffold; the soldiery; the went which were only, at William slow procession, and the quick rattle and Bankes's (the Nubian discoverer's) heavy fall of the axe; the splash of the
I saw him once go away in a blood, and the ghastliness of the exposed rage, because nobody knew the name of heads — is altogether more impressive the Cobbler of Messina,' insulting their than the vulgar and ungentlemanly dirty ignorance with the most vulgar terms of
new drop,' and dog-like agony of infliction upon the sufferers of the En. reprobation. He was tolerated in this
state amongst the young men for his taglish sentence. Two of these men be
lents, as the Turks think a madman inhaved calmly enough, but the first of spired, and bear with him. He used to the three died with great terror and re- recite, or rather vomit pages of all lanJuctance. What was very horrible, he would not lie down; then his neck was Helot; and certainly Sparta never shock
guages, and could hiccup Greek like a too large for the aperture, and the priest ed her children with a grosser exhibition was obliged to drown his exclamations than this man's intoxication. by still louder exhortations. The head
“ I perceive, in the book you sent me, was off before the eye could trace the
a long account of him, which is very blow; but from an attempt to draw back the head, notwithstanding it was held him sober, except in hall or combina
savage. I cannot judge, as I never saw forward by the hair, the first head was
tion room; and then I was never near cut off close to the ears: the other two enough to hear, and hardly to see him. were taken off more cleanly. It is bet. Of his drunken deportment, I can be ter than the oriental way, and (I should
because I saw it.' think) than the axe of our ancestors. The pain seems little, and yet the effect to the spectator, and the preparation to It was about the time (1819) when the the criminal, is very striking and chill- foregoing letter was written, and when, ing. The first turned me quite hot and like the first return of reason after inthirsty, and made me shake so that I toxication, a full consciousness of some could hardly hold the opera-glass, (I of the evils of his late libertine course of was close, but was determined to see, life had broken upon him, that an atas one should see every thing, once, with tachment differing altogether, both in attention ;) the second and third (which duration and devotion, from any of those shows how dreadfully soon things grow that, since the dream of his boyhood, indifferent,) I am ashamed to say, had had inspired him, gained an influence no effect on me as a horror, though I over his mind which lasted through his would have saved them if I could. few remaining years; and, undeniably
“ Yours, &c." wrong and immoral (even allowing for
the Italian estimate of such frailties) as was the nature of the connexion to which
THE COUNTESS GUICCIOLI.
this attachment led, we can hardly per- strong impression which their first meethaps,-taking into account the far worse ing left upon her mind :wrong from which it rescued and pre- “ I became acquainted,” says Madame served him,-consider it otherwise than Guiccioli, “ with Lord Byron in the an event fortunate, both for his reputa- April of 1819:-he was introduced to tion and happiness.
me at Venice, by the Countess Benzoni, The fair object of this last, and (with at one of that lady's parties. This inone signal exception) only real love of troduction, which had so much influence his whole life, was a young Romagnese over the lives of us both, took place conlady, the daughter of Count Gamba, of trary to our wishes, and had been perRavenna, and married, but a short time mitted by us only from courtesy. For before Lord Byron first met with her, myself, more fatigued than usual that to an old and wealthy widower, of the evening on account of the late hours same city, Count Guiccioli. Her hus- they keep at Venice, I went with great band had in early life been the friend of repugnance to this party, and purely in Alfieri, and had distinguished himself by obedience to Count Guiccioli. Lord his zeal in promoting the establishment Byron, too, who was averse to forming of a National Theatre, in which the ta- new acquaintances, - alleging that he lents of Alfieri and his own wealth were had entirely renounced all attachments, to be combined. Notwithstanding his and was unwilling any more to expose age, and a character, as it appears, by himself to their consequences,-on beno means reputable, his great opulence ing requested by the Countess Benzoni rendered him an object of ambition to allow himself to be presented to me, among the mothers of Ravenna, who, refused, and, at last, only assented from according to the too frequent maternal a desire to oblige her. practice, were seen vying with each “ His noble and exquisitely beautiful other in attracting so rich a purchaser countenance, the tone of his voice, his for their daughters, and the young Te- manners, the thousand enchantments resa Gamba, then only eighteen, and just that surrounded him, rendered him so emancipated from a convent, was the se- different and so superior a being to any lected victim.
whom I had hitherto seen, that it was The first time Lord Byron had ever impossible he should not have left the seen this lady was in the autumn of most profound impression upon me. 1818, when she made her appearance, Froin that evening, during the whole of soon after her marriage, at the house of my subsequent stay at Venice, we met the Countess Albrizzi, in all the gaiety every day." of bridal array, and the first delight of exchanging a convent for the world. At About the middle of April, Madame this time, however, no acquaintance en- Guiccioli had been obliged to quit Vesued between them ;-it was not till the nice with her husband. Having several spring of the present year that, at an houses on the road from Venice to Raevening party of Madame Benzoni's, venna, it was his habit to stop at these they were introduced to each other. mansions, one after the other, in his The love that sprung out of this meet- journeys between the two cities ; and ing he was instantaneous and mutual,
from all these places the enamoured though with the usual disproportion of young Countess now wrote to her lover, sacrifice between the parties ; such an expressing, in the most passionate and event being, to the man, but one of the pathetic terms, her despair at leaving many scenes of life, while, with woman, him. So utterly, indeed, did this feelit generally constitutes the whole drama. ing overpower her, that three times, in The young Italian found herself sud- the course of her first day's journey, she denly inspired with a passion, of which, was seized with fainting-fits. In one of till that moment, her mind could not her letters, which I saw when at Vehave formed the least idea ;-she had nice, dated, if I recollect right, from thought of love but as an amusement, • Cà Zen, Cavanella di Po,' she tells and now became its slave. If at the him that the solitude of this place, which outset, too, less slow to be won than an she had before found irksome, was, now Englishwoman, no sooner did she begin that one sole idea occupied her mind,
to understand the full despotism of the become dear and welcome to her, and passion than her heart shrunk from it as promises that, as soon as she arrives at isomething terrible, and she would have Ravenna, “ she will, according to his rescaped, but that the chain was already wish, avoid all general society, and dearound her.
vote herself to reading, music, domestic No words, however, can describe so occupations, riding on horseback,-every simply and feelingly as her own, the thing, in short, that she knew he would