Thomas Moore - Life of Lord Byron, Vol. III

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"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 as ugly
as Virtue herself.

"If you write, address to me here, _poste restante_, as I shall
probably stay the winter over. I never see a newspaper, and know
nothing of England, except in a letter now and then from my sister.
Of the MS. sent you, I know nothing, except that you have received
it, and are to publish it, &c. &c.: but when, where, and how, you
leave me to guess; but it don't much matter.

"I suppose you have a world of works passing through your process
for next year? When does Moore's poem appear? I sent a letter for
him, addressed to your care, the other day."

* * * * *

LETTER 255. TO MR. MURRAY.

"Venice, December 4, 1816.

"I have written to you so frequently of late, that you will think
me a bore; as I think you a very impolite person, for not answering
my letters from Switzerland, Milan, Verona, and Venice. There are
some things I wanted, and want, to know, viz. whether Mr. Davies,
of inaccurate memory, had or had not delivered the MS. as delivered
to him; because, if he has not, you will find that he will
bountifully bestow transcriptions on all the curious of his
acquaintance, in which case you may probably find your publication
anticipated by the 'Cambridge' or other Chronicles. In the next
place,--I forget what was next; but in the third place, I want to
hear whether you have yet published, or when you mean to do so, or
why you have not done so, because in your last (Sept. 20th,--you
may be ashamed of the date), you talked of this being done
immediately.

"From England I hear nothing, and know nothing of any thing or any
body. I have but one correspondent (except Mr. Kinnaird on business
now and then), and her a female; so that I know no more of your
island, or city, than the Italian version of the French papers
chooses to tell me, or the advertisements of Mr. Colburn tagged to
the end of your Quarterly Review for the year _ago_. I wrote to you
at some length last week, and have little to add, except that I
have begun, and am proceeding in, a study of the Armenian language,
which I acquire, as well as I can, at the Armenian convent, where I
go every day to take lessons of a learned friar, and have gained
some singular and not useless information with regard to the
literature and customs of that oriental people. They have an
establishment here--a church and convent of ninety monks, very
learned and accomplished men, some of them. They have also a press,
and make great efforts for the enlightening of their nation. I find
the language (which is _twin_, the _literal_ and the _vulgar_)
difficult, but not invincible (at least I hope not). I shall go on.
I found it necessary to twist my mind round some severer study,
and this, as being the hardest I could devise here, will be a file
for the serpent.

"I mean to remain here till the spring, so address to me _directly_
to _Venice, poste restante_.--Mr. Hobhouse, for the present, is
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 sanity. By the
way, she is not an Armenian but a Venetian, as I believe I told you
in my last. As for Italian, I am fluent enough, even in its
Venetian modification, which is something like the Somersetshire
version of English; and as for the more classical dialects, I had
not forgot my former practice much during my voyaging.

"Yours, ever and truly,

"B.

"P.S. Remember me to Mr. Gifford."

* * * * *

LETTER 256. TO MR. MURRAY.

"Venice, Dec. 9. 1816.

"In a letter from England, I am informed that a man named Johnson
has taken upon himself to publish some poems called a 'Pilgrimage
to Jerusalem, a Tempest, and an Address to my Daughter,' &c., and
to attribute them to me, adding that he had paid five hundred
guineas for them. The answer to this is short: _I never wrote such
poems, never received the sum he mentions, nor any other in the
same quarter, nor_ (as far as moral or mortal certainty can be
sure) _ever had, directly or indirectly, the slightest
communication with Johnson in my life_; not being aware that the
person existed till this intelligence gave me to understand that
there were such people. Nothing surprises me, or this perhaps
_would_, and most things amuse me, or this probably would _not_.
With regard to myself, the man has merely _lied_; that's natural;
his betters have set him the example. But with regard to you, his
assertion may perhaps injure you in your publications; and I desire
that it may receive the most public and unqualified contradiction.
I do not know that there is any punishment for a thing of this
kind, and if there were, I should not feel disposed to pursue this
ingenious mountebank farther than was necessary for his
confutation; but thus far it may be necessary to proceed.

"You will make what use you please of this letter; and Mr.
Kinnaird, who has power to act for me in my absence, will, I am
sure, readily join you in any steps which it may be proper to take
with regard to the absurd falsehood of this poor creature. As you
will have recently received several letters from me on my way to
Venice, as well as two written since my arrival, I will not at
present trouble you further.

"Ever, &c.

"P.S. Pray let me hear that you have received this letter. Address
to Venice, _poste restante_.

"To prevent the recurrence of similar fabrications, you may state,
that I consider myself responsible for no publication from the year
1812 up to the present date which is not from your press. I speak
of course from that period, because, previously, Cawthorn and Ridge
had both printed compositions of mine. 'A Pilgrimage to Jerusalem!'
How the devil should I write about _Jerusalem_, never having yet
been there? As for 'A Tempest,' it was _not_ a _tempest_ when I
left England, but a very fresh breeze: and as to an 'Address to
little Ada,' (who, by the way, is a year old to-morrow,) I never
wrote a line about her, except in 'Farewell' and the third Canto of
Childe Harold."

* * * * *

LETTER 257. TO MR. MURRAY.

"Venice, Dec. 27. 1816.

"As the demon of silence seems to have possessed you, I am
determined to have my revenge in postage; this is my sixth or
seventh letter since summer and Switzerland. My last was an
injunction to contradict and consign to confusion that Cheapside
impostor, who (I heard by a letter from your island) had thought
proper to append my name to his spurious poesy, of which I know
nothing, nor of his pretended purchase or 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.

"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 divertissements, on every
canal of this aquatic city. I dined with the Countess Albrizzi and
a Paduan and Venetian party, and afterwards went to the opera, at
the Fenice theatre (which opens for the Carnival on that day),--the
finest, by the way, I have ever seen: it beats our theatres hollow
in beauty and scenery, and those of Milan and Brescia bow before
it. The opera and its sirens were much like other operas and women,
but the subject of the said opera was something edifying; it
turned--the plot and conduct thereof--upon a fact narrated by Livy
of a hundred and fifty married ladies having poisoned a hundred and
fifty husbands in good old times. The bachelors of Rome believed
this extraordinary mortality to be merely the common effect of
matrimony or a pestilence; but the surviving Benedicts, being all
seized with the cholic, examined into the matter, and found that
'their possets had been drugged;' the consequence of which was,
much scandal and several suits at law. This is really and truly the
subject of the musical piece at the Fenice; and you can't conceive
what pretty things are sung and recitativoed about the _horrenda
strage_. The conclusion was a lady's head about to be chopped off
by a lictor, but (I am sorry to say) he left it on, and she got up
and sung a trio with the two Consuls, the Senate in the back-ground
being chorus. The ballet was distinguished by nothing remarkable,
except that the principal she-dancer went into convulsions because
she was not applauded on her first appearance; and the manager came
forward to ask if there was 'ever a physician in the theatre.'
There was a Greek one in my box, whom I wished very much to
volunteer his services, being sure that in this case these would
have been the last convulsions which would have troubled the
ballarina; but he would not. The crowd was enormous, and in coming
out, having a lady under my arm, I was obliged, in making way,
almost to 'beat a Venetian and traduce the state,' being compelled
to regale a person with an English punch in the guts, which sent
him as far back as the squeeze and the passage would admit. He did
not ask for another, but, with great signs of disapprobation and
dismay, appealed to his compatriots, who laughed at him.

"I am going on with my Armenian studies in a morning, and assisting
and stimulating in the English portion of an English and Armenian
grammar, now publishing at the convent of St. Lazarus.

"The superior of the friars is a bishop, and a fine old fellow,
with the beard of a meteor. Father Paschal is also a learned and
pious soul. He was two years in England.

"I am still dreadfully in love with the Adriatic lady whom I spake
of in a former letter, (and _not_ in _this_--I add, for fear of
mistakes, for the only one mentioned in the first part of this
epistle is elderly and bookish, two things which I have ceased to
admire,) and love in this part of the world is no sinecure. This is
also the season when every body make up their intrigues for the
ensuing year, and cut for partners for the next deal.

"And now, if you don't write, I don't know what I won't say or do,
nor what I will. Send me some news--good news. Yours very truly,
&c. &c. &c.

"B.

"P.S. Remember me to Mr. Gifford, with all duty.

"I hear that the Edinburgh Review has cut up Coleridge's
Christabel, and me for praising it, which omen, I think, bodes no
great good to your forthcome or coming Canto and Castle (of
Chillon). My run of luck within the last year seems to have taken a
turn every way; but never mind, I will bring myself through in the
end--if not, I can be but where I began. In the mean time, I am not
displeased to be where I am--I mean, at Venice. My Adriatic nymph
is this moment here, and I must therefore repose from this letter."

* * * * *

LETTER 258. TO MR. MURRAY.

"Venice, Jan. 2. 1817.

"Your letter has arrived. Pray, in publishing the third Canto, have
you _omitted_ any passages? I hope _not_; and indeed wrote to you
on my way over the Alps to prevent such an incident. Say in your
next whether or not the _whole_ of the Canto (as sent to you) has
been published. I wrote to you again the other day, (_twice_, I
think,) and shall be glad to hear of the reception of those
letters.

"To-day is the 2d of January. On this day _three_ years ago The
Corsair's publication is dated, I think, in my letter to Moore. On
this day _two_ years I married, ('Whom the Lord loveth he
chasteneth,'--I sha'n't forget the day in a hurry,) and it is odd
enough that I this day received a letter from you announcing the
publication of Childe Harold, &c. &c. on the day of the date of
'The Corsair;' and I also received one from my sister, written on
the 10th of December, my daughter's birth-day (and relative chiefly
to my daughter), and arriving on the day of the date of my
marriage, this present 2d of January, the month of my birth,--and
various other astrologous matters, which I have no time to
enumerate.

"By the way, you might as well write to Hentsch, my Geneva banker,
and enquire whether the _two packets_ consigned to his care were or
were not delivered to Mr. St. Aubyn, or if they are still in his
keeping. One contains papers, letters, and all the original MS. of
your third Canto, as first conceived; and the other, some bones
from the field of Morat. Many thanks for your news, and the good
spirits in which your letter is written.

"Venice and I agree very well; but I do not know that I have any
thing new to say, except of the last new opera, which I sent in my
late letter. The Carnival is commencing, and there is a good deal
of fun here and there--besides business; for all the world are
making up their intrigues for the season, changing, or going on
upon a renewed lease. I am very well off with Marianna, who is not
at all a person to tire me; firstly, because I do not tire of a
woman _personally_, but because they are generally bores in their
disposition; and, secondly, because she is amiable, and has a tact
which is not always the portion of the fair creation; and, thirdly,
she is very pretty; and, fourthly--but there is no occasion for
further specification. So far we have gone on very well; as to the
future, I never anticipate--_carpe diem_--the past at least is
one's own, which is one reason for making sure of the present. So
much for my proper _liaison_.

"The general state of morals here is much the same as in the Doges'
time; a woman is virtuous (according to the code) who limits
herself to her husband and one lover; those who have two, three, or
more, are a little _wild_; but it is only those who are
indiscriminately diffuse, and form a low connection, such as the
Princess of Wales with her courier, (who, by the way, is made a
knight of Malta,) who are considered as overstepping the modesty of
marriage. In Venice, the nobility have a trick of marrying with
dancers and singers; and, truth to say, the women of their own
order are by no means handsome; but the general race, the women of
the second and other orders, the wives of the merchants, and
proprietors, and untitled gentry, are mostly _bel' sangue_, and it
is with these that the more amatory connections are usually formed.
There are also instances of stupendous constancy. I know a woman of
fifty who never had but one lover, who dying early, she became
devout, renouncing all but her husband. She piques herself, as may
be presumed, upon this miraculous fidelity, talking of it
occasionally with a species of misplaced morality, which is rather
amusing. There is no convincing a woman here that she is in the
smallest degree deviating from the rule of right or the fitness of
things in having an _amoroso_. The great sin seems to lie in
concealing it, or having more than one, that is, unless such an
extension of the prerogative is understood and approved of by the
prior claimant.

"In another sheet, I send you some sheets of a grammar, English and
Armenian, for the use of the Armenians, of which I promoted, and
indeed induced, the publication. (It cost me but a thousand
francs--French livres.) I still pursue my lessons in the language
without any rapid progress, but advancing a little daily. Padre
Paschal, with some little help from me, as translator of his
Italian into English, is also proceeding in a MS. Grammar for the
_English_ acquisition of Armenian, which will be printed also, when
finished.

"We want to know if there are any Armenian types and letter-press
in England, at Oxford, Cambridge, or elsewhere? You know, I
suppose, that, many years ago, the two Whistons published in
England an original text of a history of Armenia, with their own
Latin translation? Do those types still exist? and where? Pray
enquire among your learned acquaintance.

"When this Grammar (I mean the one now printing) is done, will you
have any objection to take forty or fifty copies, which will not
cost in all above five or ten guineas, and try the curiosity of the
learned with a sale of them? Say yes or no, as you like. I can
assure you that they have some very curious books and MSS., chiefly
translations from Greek originals now lost. They are, besides, a
much respected and learned community, and the study of their
language was taken up with great ardour by some literary Frenchmen
in Buonaparte's time.

"I have not done a stitch of poetry since I left Switzerland, and
have not, at present, the _estro_ upon me. The truth is, that you
are _afraid_ of having a _fourth_ Canto _before_ September, and of
another copyright, but I have at present no thoughts of resuming
that poem, nor of beginning any other. If I write, I think of
trying prose, but I dread introducing living people, or
applications which might be made to living people. Perhaps one day
or other I may attempt some work of fancy in prose, descriptive of
Italian manners and of human passions; but at present I am
preoccupied. As for poesy, mine is the _dream_ of the sleeping
passions; when they are awake, I cannot speak their language, only
in their somnambulism, and just now they are not dormant.

"If Mr. Gifford wants _carte blanche_ as to The Siege of Corinth,
he has it, and may do as he likes with it.

"I sent you a letter contradictory of the Cheapside man (who
invented the story you speak of) the other day. My best respects to
Mr. Gifford, and such of my friends as you may see at your house. I
wish you all prosperity and new year's gratulation, and am

"Yours," &c.

* * * * *

To the Armenian Grammar, mentioned in the foregoing letter, the
following interesting fragment, found among his papers, seems to have
been intended as a Preface:--

"The English reader will probably be surprised to find my name
associated with a work of the present description, and inclined to give
me more credit for my attainments as a linguist than they deserve.

"As I would not willingly be guilty of a deception, I will state, as
shortly as I can, my own share in the compilation, with the motives
which led to it. On my arrival at Venice, in the year 1816, I found my
mind in a state which required study, and study of a nature which should
leave little scope for the imagination, and furnish some difficulty in
the pursuit.

"At this period I was much struck--in common, I believe, with every
other traveller--with the society of the Convent of St. Lazarus, which
appears to unite all the advantages of the monastic institution, without
any of its vices.

"The neatness, the comfort, the gentleness, the unaffected devotion, the
accomplishments, and the virtues of the brethren of the order, are well
fitted to strike the man of the world with the conviction that 'there is
another and a better' even in this life.

"These men are the priesthood of an oppressed and a noble nation, which
has partaken of the proscription and bondage of the Jews and of the
Greeks, without the sullenness of the former or the servility of the
latter. This people has attained riches without usury, and all the
honours that can be awarded to slavery without intrigue. But they have
long occupied, nevertheless, a part of 'the House of Bondage,' who has
lately multiplied her many mansions. It would be difficult, perhaps, to
find the annals of a nation less stained with crimes than those of the
Armenians, whose virtues have been those of peace, and their vices those
of compulsion. But whatever may have been their destiny--and it has been
bitter--whatever it may be in future, their country must ever be one of
the most interesting on the globe; and perhaps their language only
requires to be more studied to become more attractive. If the Scriptures
are rightly understood, it was in Armenia that Paradise was
placed--Armenia, which has paid as dearly as the descendants of Adam for
that fleeting participation of its soil in the happiness of him who was
created from its dust. It was in Armenia that the flood first abated,
and the dove alighted. But with the disappearance of Paradise itself may
be dated almost the unhappiness of the country; for though long a
powerful kingdom, it was scarcely ever an independent one, and the
satraps of Persia and the pachas of Turkey have alike desolated the
region where God created man in his own image."

* * * * *

LETTER 259. TO MR. MOORE.

"Venice, January 28. 1817.

"Your letter of the 8th is before me. The remedy for your plethora
is simple--abstinence. I was obliged to have recourse to the like
some years ago, I mean in point of _diet_, and, with the exception
of some convivial weeks and days, (it might be months, now and
then,) have kept to Pythagoras ever since. For all this, let me
hear that you are better. You must not _indulge_ in 'filthy
beer,' nor in porter, nor eat _suppers_--the last are the devil to
those who swallow dinner.

"I am truly sorry to hear of your father's misfortune--cruel at any
time, but doubly cruel in advanced life. However, you will, at
least, have the satisfaction of doing your part by him, and depend
upon it, it will not be in vain. Fortune, to be sure, is a female,
but not such a b * * as the rest (always excepting your wife and my
sister from such sweeping terms); for she generally has some
justice in the long run. I have no spite against her, though
between her and Nemesis I have had some sore gauntlets to run--but
then I have done my best to deserve no better. But to _you_, she is
a good deal in arrear, and she will come round--mind if she don't:
you have the vigour of life, of independence, of talent, spirit,
and character all with you. What you can do for yourself, you have
done and will do; and surely there are some others in the world who
would not be sorry to be of use, if you would allow them to be
useful, or at least attempt it.

"I think of being in England in the spring. If there is a row, by
the sceptre of King Ludd, but I'll be one; and if there is none,
and only a continuance of 'this meek, piping time of peace,' I will
take a cottage a hundred yards to the south of your abode, and
become your neighbour; and we will compose such canticles, and hold
such dialogues, as shall be the terror of the _Times_ (including
the newspaper of that name), and the wonder, and honour, and
praise of the Morning Chronicle and posterity.

"I rejoice to hear of your forthcoming in February--though I
tremble for the 'magnificence' which you attribute to the new
Childe Harold. I am glad you like it; it is a fine indistinct piece
of poetical desolation, and my favourite. I was half mad during the
time of its composition, between metaphysics, mountains, lakes,
love unextinguishable, thoughts unutterable, and the night-mare of
my own delinquencies. I should, many a good day, have blown my
brains out, but for the recollection that it would have given
pleasure to my mother-in-law; and, even _then_, if I could have
been certain to haunt her--but I won't dwell upon these trifling
family matters.

"Venice is in the _estro_ of her carnival, and I have been up these
last two nights at the ridotto and the opera, and all that kind of
thing. Now for an adventure. A few days ago a gondolier brought me
a billet without a subscription, intimating a wish on the part of
the writer to meet me either in gondola, or at the island of San
Lazaro, or at a third rendezvous, indicated in the note. 'I know
the country's disposition well'--in Venice 'they do let Heaven see
those tricks they dare not show,' &c. &c.; so, for all response, I
said that neither of the three places suited me; but that I would
either be at home at ten at night alone, or be at the ridotto at
midnight, where the writer might meet me masked. At ten o'clock I
was at home and alone (Marianna was gone with her husband to a
conversazione), when the door of my apartment opened, and in
walked a well-looking and (for an Italian) _bionda_ girl of about
nineteen, who informed me that she was married to the brother of my
_amorosa_, and wished to have some conversation with me. I made a
decent reply, and we had some talk in Italian and Romaic (her
mother being a Greek of Corfu), when lo! in a very few minutes in
marches, to my very great astonishment, Marianna S * *, _in propria
persona_, and after making a most polite courtesy to her
sister-in-law and to me, without a single word seizes her said
sister-in-law by the hair, and bestows upon her some sixteen slaps,
which would have made your ear ache only to hear their echo. I need
not describe the screaming which ensued. The luckless visiter took
flight. I seized Marianna, who, after several vain efforts to get
away in pursuit of the enemy, fairly went into fits in my arms;
and, in spite of reasoning, eau de Cologne, vinegar, half a pint of
water, and God knows what other waters beside, continued so till
past midnight.

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