formed what might be wrong in my conduct, and retrieved what was perplexing in my affairs! But he is in his grave, and "You offer fifteen hundred guineas for the new Canto: I won't take it. I ask two thousand five hundred guineas for it, which you will either give or not, as you think proper. It concludes the poem, and consists of one hundred and forty-four stanzas. The notes are numerous, and chiefly written by Mr. Hobhouse, whose researches have been indefatigable, and who, I will venture to say, has more real knowledge of Rome and its environs than any Englishman who has been there since Gibbon. By the way to prevent any mistakes, I think it necessary to state the fact that he, Mr. Hobhouse has no interest whatever in the price or profit to be derived from the copyright of either poem or notes directly or indirectly; so that you are not to suppose that it is by, for, or through him, that I require more for this Canto than the preceding.-No: but if Mr. Eustace was to have had two thousand for a poem on Education, if Mr. Moore is to have three thousand for Lalla, &c.; if Mr. Campbell is to have three thousand for his prose on poetry--I don't mean to disparage these gentlemen in their labours-but I ask the aforesaid price for mine. You will tell me that their productions are considerably longer; very true, and when they shorten them, I will lengthen mine, and ask less. You shall submit the MS. to Mr. Gifford, and any other two gentlemen to be named by you (Mr. Frere, or Mr. Croker, or whomever you please, except such fellows as your -s and s), and if they pronounce this Canto to be inferior as a whole to the preceding, I will not appeal from their award, but burn the manuscript, and leave things as they are

"You are right, Gifford is right, Crabbe is right, Hobhouse is right-you are all right, and I am all wrong; but do, pray, let me have that pleasure. Cut me up root and branch; quarter me in the Quarterly; send round my disjecti membra poetæ,' like those of the Levite's concubine; make me, if you will, a spectacle to men and angels; but don't ask me to alter, for I won't:-I am obstinate and lazy-and there's the truth. But, nevertheless, I will answer your friend P, who objects to the quick succession of fun and gravity, as if in that case the gravity did not (in intention at least), heighten the fun. His metaphor is, that we are never scorched and drenched at the same time.' Blessings on his experience! Ask him these questions about scorching and drenching. Did he never play at cricket,

or walk a mile in hot weather? Did he never spill a dish of tea over himself in handing the cup to his charmer, to the great shame of his nankeen breeches? Did he never swim in the sea at noonday with the sun in his eyes and on his head, which all the foam of ocean could not cool? Did he never draw his foot out of too hot water, d-ning his eyes and his valet? Did he never tumble into a river or lake, fishing, and set in his wet clothes in the boat, or on the bank, afterwards 'scorched and drenched,' like a true sportsman ?

Oh for breath to utter !'-but make him my compliments; he is a clever fellow for all that-a very clever fellow.

"What is all this about Tom Moore but why do 1 ask? since the state of my own affairs would not permit me to be of use to him, though they are greatly improved since 1816, and may, with some more luck and a little prudence, become quite clear. It seems his claimants are American merchants? There goes Nemesis ! Moore abused America. It is always thus in the long run:-Time, the Avenger. You have seen every trampler down in turn, from Buonaparte to the simplest individuals. You saw how some avenged even upon my insignificance, and how in turn paid for his atrocity. It is an old world; but the watchi has its main-spring, after all."

were

Ravenna, May 20th, 1820. "Murray, my dear, make my respects to Thomas Campbell, and tell him from me, with faith and friendship, three things that he must right in lus poets: Firstly, he says Anstey's Bath Guide characters are taken from Smollett. Tis impossible:

the Guide was published in 1766, and Humphrey Clinker in 1771-dunque 'tis Smollett who has taken from Anstey. Secondly, he does not know to whom Cowper alludes, when he says that there was one who built a church to God, and then blasphemed his name;' it was 'Deo erexit Voltaire' to whom that maniacal Calvinist and coddled poet alludes. Thirdly, he misquotes and spoils a passage from Shakespear, to gild refined gold, to paint the lily,' &c.; for lily he puts rose, and bedevils in more words than one the whole quotation.

"Now, Tom is a fine fellow; but he should be correct: for the first is an injustice (to Anstey), the second an ignorance, and the third a blunder. Tell him all this, and let him take it in good part; for I might have rammed it into a review and rowed him-instead of which, I act like a Christian. Your's, &c."

The following interesting account of

Lord Byron's visit to Ravenna, is given by the Countess Guiccioli herself.

"On my departure from Venice, he had promised to come and see me at Ravenna, Dante's tomb, the classical pine wood, the relics of antiquity which are to be found in that place, afforded a sufficient pretext for me to invite him to come, and for him to accept my invitation. He came, in fact, in the month of June, arriving at Ravenna on the day of the festival of the Corpus Domini; while I, attacked by a consumptive complaint, which had its origin from the moment of my quitting Venice, appeared on the point of death. The arrival of a distinguished foreigner at Ravenna, a town so remote from the routes ordinarily followed by travellers, was an event which gave rise to a good deal of conversation. His motives for such a visit became the subject of discussion, and these he himself afterwards involuntarily divulged; for having made some inquiries with a view to paying me a visit, and being told that it was unlikely that he would ever see me again, as I was at the point of death, he replied, if such were the case, he hoped that he should die also; which circumstance, being repeated, revealed the object of his journey. Count Guiccioli, having been acquainted with Lord Byron at Venice, went to visit him now, and in the hope that his presence might amuse, and be of some use to me in the state in which I then found myself, invited him to call upon me. He came the day following. It is impossible to describe the anxiety he showed,-the delicate attentions that he paid me. For a long time he had perpetually medical books in his hands; and not trusting my physicians, he obtained permission from Count Guiccioli-to send for a very clever physician, a friend of his, in whom he placed great confidence. The attentions of the Professor Aglietti (for so this celebrated Italian was called), together with the tranquility, and the inexpressible happiness which I experienced in Lord Byron's society, had so good an effect on my health, that only two month afterwards I was able to accompany my husband in a tour he was obliged to make to visit his various estates."

TO MR HOPPNER,

66 Ravenna, June 20, 1820.

"I wrote to you from Padua, and from Bologna, and since from Ravenna, I find my situation very agreeable, but want my horses very much, there being good riding in the environs. I can fix no time for my return to Venice-it may be soon or late

or not at all—it all depends on the Donna,

whom I found very seriously in bed with a cough and spitting of blood, &c. all of which has subsided. I found all the people here firmly persuaded that she would never ecover; they were mistaken, however. My letters were useful as far as I employed them: and I like both the place and people, though I don't trouble the latter more than I can help. She manages very wellbut if I come away with a stiletto in my gizzard some fine afternoon, I shall not be astonished. I can't make him out at all-he visits me frequently, and takes me out (like Whittington, the Lord Mayor) in a coach and six horses. The fact appears to be, that he is completely governed by her-for that matter, so am It. The people here don't know what to make of us, as he had the character of jealousy with all his wives-this is the third. He is the richest of the Ravennese, by their own account, but is not popular among them.

Now do, pray, send off Augustine, and carriage and cattle, to Bologna, without fail or delay, or I shall lose my remaining shred of senses. Don't forget this. My coming, going, and everything, depend upon HER entirely, just as Mrs. Hoppner (to whom I remit my reverences) said in the true spirit of female prophecy. You are but a shabby fellow not to have written before.

"And I am truly yours, &c."

That this task of "governing" him was one of more case than, from the ordinary view of his cha racter, might be concluded, I have more than once, in these pages, expressed my opinion, and shall here quote, in corroboration of it, the remark of his own servant (founded on an observation of more than twenty years), in speaking of his master's ma trimonial fate:"It is very odd, but I never yet knew a lady that could not manage my lord, except my lady."

More knowledge," says Johnson, "may be gained of a man's real character by a short conver

sation with one of his servants, than from the most formal and studied narrative."

nothing from the truth being spoken-and if it could, how did he behave to me? You may talk to the wind, which will carry the sound-and to the caves, which will echo you-but not to me, on the subject of a who wronged me

whether dead or alive.

"I have no time to return you the proofs -publish without them. I am glad you think the poesy good; and as to thinking of the effect,' think you of the sale, and leave me to pluck the porcupines who may point their quills at you.

"I have been here (at Ravenna) these four weeks, having left Venice a month ago; I came to see my 'Amica, the Countess Guiccioli, who has been, and still continues, very unwell.

She is only twenty years old, but not of a strong constitution. She has a perpetual cough and an intermittent fever, but bears up most gallantly in every sense of the word. Her husband (this is his third wife) is the richest noble of Ravenna, and almost of Romagna; he is also not the youngest, being upwards of threescore, but in good preservation. All this will appear strange to you, who do not understand the meridian morality, nor our way of life in such respects, and I cannot at present expound the difference; -but you would find it much the same in these parts. At Faenza there is Lord

with an opera girl; and at the inn in the same town is a Neapolitan_Prince, who serves the wife of the Gonfaloniere of that city. I am on duty here-so you 'see' Cosi fan tutti e tutte.' I have my horses here, saddle as well as carriage, and ride or drive every day in the forest, the Pineta, the scene of Boccaccio's novel, and Dryden's fable of Honoria, &c. &c.; and I see my Dama every day.

but I feel seriously uneasy about her health, which seems very precarious. In losing her, I should lose a being who has run great risks on my account, and whom I have every reason to love--but I must not think this possible. I do not know what I should do if she died, but I ought to blow my brains out-and I hope that I should. Her husband is a very polite personage, but I wish he would not carry me out in his coach and six, like Whittington and his cat."

Speaking of the separation he had caused between the countess and her husband, he

says:

"Your apprehensions (arising from Scott's) were unfounded. There are no damages in this country, but there will probably be a separation between them; as her family, which is a principal one, by

its connexions, are very much against him, for the whole of his conduct; and he is old and obstinate, and she is young and a woman, determined to sacrifice every thing to her affections. I have given her the best advice, viz. to stay with him,-pointing out the state of a separated woman (for the priests won't let lovers live openly together, unless the husband sanctions it), and making the most exquisite moral reflections, but to no purpose. She says, I will stay with him, if he will let you remain with me. It is hard that I should be the only woman in Romagna who is not to have her amico; but, if not, I will not live with him, and as for the consequences, love, &c. &c. &c.'-you know how females reason on such occasions. He says he has let it go on, till he can do so no longer. But he wants her to stay, aud dismiss me; for he doesn't like to pay back her dowry and to make an alimony. Her relations are rather for the separation, as they detest him,—indeed, so does every body. The populace and the women are, as usual, all for those who are in the wrong, viz. the lady and her lover. I should have retreated, but honour, and an erysipelas which has attacked her, prevent me, to say nothing of love, for I love her most entirely, though not enough to persuade her to sacrifice every thing to a frenzy. I see how it will end; she will be the sixteenth Mrs. Shuffleton."

Again, alluding to a party, whither he accompanies her :

"The G.'s object appeared to be to parade her foreign lover as much as possible, and faith, if she seemed to glory in the scandal, it was not for me to be ashamed of it. Nobody seemed surprised ;—all the women, on the contrary, were, as it were, delighted with the excellent example. The vice-legate; and all the other vices, were as polite as conld be ;-and I, who acted on the reserve, was fairly obliged to take the lady under my arm, and look as much like a cicisbeo as I could on so short a notice."

In a familiar journal he kept in 1821, Lord Byron makes these reflections upon his own temperament:

"What is the reason that I have been, all my life-time, more or less ennuyé? and that, if any thing, I am rather less so now that I was at twenty, as far as my recollection serves? I do not know how to answer this, but presume that it is constitutional-as well as the waking in low spirits, which I have invariably done for many years, Temperance and exercise, which I have practised at times, and for a long time together vigorously and violently, made little or no difference. Violent passions did; when under their immediate

influence-it is odd, but I was in agitated, but not in depressed spirits.

"A dose of salts has the effect of a temporary inebriation, like light champagne, upon me. But wine and spirits make me sullen and savage to ferocity silent, however, and retiring, and not quarrelsome, if not spoken to. Swimming also raises my spirits-but in general they are low, and get daily lower. That is hopeless; for I do not think I am so much ennuyé as I was at nineteen. The proof is, that then I must game, or drink, or be in motion of some kind, or I was miserable. At present, I can mope in quietness; and like being alone better than any company-except the lady's whom I serve. But I feel a something, which makes nie think that, if ever I reach near to old age, like Swift, I shall die at top' first. Only I do not dread idiotism or madness so much as he did. On the contrary, I think some quieter stages of both must be preferable to much of what men think the possession of their senses."

From the same journal we extract the following account of his mode of life while he lived at Ravenna, after the Guiccioli was divorced from her husband, and while she lived with her father the Count Gamba.

"Ravenna, January 4, 1821. "A sudden thought strikes me. Let me begin a Journal once more. The last I kept was in Switzerland, in record of a tour made in the Bernese Alps, which I made to send to my sister in 1816, and I suppose that she has it still, for she wrote to me that she was pleased with it. Another, and longer, I kept in 1813-1814, which I gave to Thomas Moore in the same year.

"This morning I got me up late, as usual -weather bad-bad as England-worse. The snow of last week melting to the sirocco of to-day, so that there were two d-d things at once. Could not even get to ride on horseback in the forest. Staid at home all the morning-looked at the fire-wondered when the post would come. Post came at the Ave Maria, instead of half-past nine o'clock as it onght. Galignani's Messengers, six in number-a letter from Faenza, but none from Eng. land. Very sulky in consequence (for there ought to have been letters), and ate in consequence a copious dinner; for , when I am vexed, it makes me swallow quicker-but drank very little.

“I was out of spirits-read the papers -thought what fame was, on reading, in a case of murder, that Mr. Wych, grocer, at Tunbridge, sold some bacon, flour, cheese, and, it is believed, some piums, to some gypsey woman accused. He had

on his counter (I quote faithfully) a book, the Life of Pamela,' which he was tearing for waste paper, &c. &c. In the cheese was found, &c., and a leaf of Pamela wrapt round the bacon.' What would Richard. son, the vainest and luckiest of living authors (i. e. while alive)-he who, with Aaron Hill, used to prophecy and chuckle over the presumed fall of Fielding (the prose Homer of human nature) and of Pope (the most beautiful of poets)-what would he have said could he have traced his pages from their place on the French prince's toilets (see Boswell's Johnson) to the grocer's counter and the gipsy murderess's bacon !!!

"What would he have said? what can any body say, save what Solomon said long before us? After all, it is but passing from one counter to another, from the bookseller's to the other tradesman'sgrocer, or pastry.cook. For my part, I have met with most poetry upon trunks; so that I am apt to consider the trunkmaker as the sexton of authorship.

"Wrote five letters in about half an hour, short and savage, to all my rascally correspondents. Carriage came. Heard the news of three murders at Faenza and Forli-a carabinier, a smuggler, and an attorney-all last night. The first two in a quarrel, the latter by premeditation.

Came home at eleven, or rather before. If the road and weather are conformable, mean to ride to-morrow. High time- almost a week at this work-snow, sirocco, one day-frost and snow the other-sad climate for Italy. But the two seasons, last and present, are extraordinary. Read a Life of Leonardo da Vinci,' by Rossi-wrote this much, and will go to bed.

January 5, 1821. "Rose late-dull and droop the weather dripping and dense. Snow on the ground, and sirocco above in the sky, like yesterday. Roads up to the horse's belly, so that riding (at least for pleasure) is not very feasible. Added a postcript to my letter to Murray. Read the conclusion, for the fiftieth time (I have read all Sir W. Scott's novels at least fifty times), of the third series of Tales of my Landlord'-grand work-Scotch Fielding, as well as great English poet-wonderful man! I long to get drunk with him.

"Dined versus six o' the clock. Forgot that there was a plum-pudding (I have added, lately, eating to my family of vices'), and had dined before I knew it. Drank half a bottle of some sort of spirits-probably spirits of wine; for, what they call brandy, rum, &c. &c. here, is nothing but spirits of wine, coloured

"Eleven o' the clock and nine minutes. Visited La Contessa G. Nata G. G. Found her beginuiug my letter of answer to the thanks of Alessio del Pinto of Rome for assisting his brother to the late commandant in his last moments, as I had begged her to pen my reply for the purer Italian, being an ultra-montane, little skilled in the set phrase of Tuscany. Cut short the letter-finish it another day. Talked of Italy, patriotism, Alfieri, Madame Albany, and other branches of learning.

"Mem.-Ordered Fletcher (at four o'clock in this afternoon) to copy out seven or eight apophthegms of Bacon, in which I have detected such blunders as a schoolboy might detect, rather than commit. Such are the sages! What must they be, when such as I can stumble on their mistakes or mistatements? I will go to bed, for I find that I grow cynical.

<< January 6th, 1821. "Mist-thaw-slop-rain. No stirring out on horseback. Read Spence's Anecdotes.' Pope a fine fellow-always thought him so. Corrected blunders in nine apophthegms of Bacon-all historical, and red Mitford's Greece.' Wrote an epigram. Turned to a passage in Guinguené -ditto, in Lord Holland's Lope de Vega? Wrote a note on 'Don Juan.'

"At eight went out to visit. Heard a little music-like music. Talked with Count Pietro G. of the Italian comedian Vestris, who is now at Rome-have seen him often act in Venice-a good actor, very. Somewhat of a mannerist; but excellent in broad comedy, as well as in the sentimental pathetic. He has made me frequently laugh and cry, neither of which is now a very easy matter, at least, for a player to produce in me.

"Sketched the outline and Drams. Pers. of an intended tragedy of Sardanapalus, which I have for some time meditated. Took the names from Diodorus Siculus-I know the history of Sardanapalus,' and have known it since I was twelve years old-and read over a passage in the ninth vol octavo of Mitford's Greece, where he rather vindicates the memory of this last of the Assyrians.

"Dined-news come-the Powers mean to war with the peoples. The intelligence seems positive-let it be so-they will be

heaten in the end. The king-times are fast finishing. There will be blood shed like water, and tears like mist; but the peoples will conquer in the end. I shall not live to see it, but I foresee it.

"I carried Teresa the Italian translation of Grillparzer's Sappho," which she promises to read. She quarrelled with me, because I said that love was not the loftiest theme for true tragedy; and, having the advantage of her native language, and natural female eloquence, she overcame my fewer arguments. I believe she was right. I must put more love into 'Sardanapalus' than I intended. I speak, of course, if the times will allow me leisure. That if will hardly be a peacemaker.

January 14, 1821. "Turned over Seneca's tragedies. Wrote the opening lines of the intended tragedy of Sardanapalus. Rode out some miles into the forest. Misty and rainy. Returned-diued-wrote some more of my tragedy.

"Read Diodorus Siculus' — turned Wrote some more of the tragedy. Took over Seneca, and some other books. a glass of grog. After having ridden hard in rainy weather, and scribbled, and scribbled again, the spirits (at least mine) need a little exhilaration, and I don't like landanum now as I used to do. So I have mixed a glass of strong waters and single waters, which I shall now proceed to clude this day's diary. empty. Therefore and thereunto I con

"The effect of all wines and spirits upon me is, however, strange. It settles, but it makes me gloomy-gloomy at the very moment of their effect, and not gay hardly ever. But it composes for a time, though sullenly.