Has there been nothing to make it grey? to be sure the years have not. Your parcel will not find me here—I am going to Pisa, for the winter. The late political troubles here have occasioned the exile of all my friends & connections, & I am going there to join them. You know or you do not know that Madame La Comtesse G. was separated from her husband last year (on account of P.P. Clerk of this parish1), that the Pope decided in her favor & gave her a separate maintenance & that we lived very quietly & decently—she at her father’s (as the Pope decided) and I at home—till this Summer. When her father was exiled, she was obliged either to accompany him or retire into a Convent—such being the terms of His Holiness’s deed of divorcement. They went to Pisa by my recommendation & there I go to join them.
So there’s a romance for you. I assure you it was not my wish nor fault altogether. Her husband was old—rich—& must have left her a large jointure in a few years; but he was jealous, & insisted &.c, & she like all the rest would have her own way. You know that all my loves go crazy, and make scenes—and so—“She is the sixteenth Mrs. Shuffleton.” Being very young—very
1 See note, p. 283. |
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We have been living hitherto decently & quietly. These things here do not exclude a woman from all society as in yr hypocritical country. It is very odd that all my fairs are such romantic people; and always daggering or divorcing—or making scenes.
But this is “positively the last time of performance” (as the playbills say), or of my getting into such scrapes for the future. Indeed—I have had my share. But this is a finisher; for you know when a woman is separated from her husband for her Amant, he is bound both by honour (and inclination at least I am), to live with her all his days; as long as there is no misconduct.
So you see that I have closed as papa begun, and you will probably never see me again as long as you live. Indeed you don’t deserve it—for having behaved so coldly—when I was ready to have sacrificed every thing for you—and after [you had | having] taken the farther always1
It is nearly three years that this “liaison” has lasted. I was dreadfully in love—and she blindly so—for she has sacrificed every thing to this headlong passion. That comes of being romantic. I can say that, without being so furiously in love as at first, I am more attached to her than I thought it possible to be to any woman
1 The words in italics are erased, (apparently not by the writer) and partly illegible. “You” is underlined. |
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and have not the least wish nor prospect of separation from her. She herself, (and it is now a year since her separation, a year too of all kinds of vicissitudes &c) is still more decided. Of course the step was a decisive one. If Lady B. would but please to die, and the Countess G.’s husband (for Catholics can’t marry though divorced), we should probably have to marry—though I would rather not—thinking it the way to hate each other—for all people whatsoever.
However you need not calculate upon seeing me again in a hurry, if ever. How have you sent the parcel, and how am I to receive it at Pisa? I am anxious about the Seal—not about Hodgson’s nonsense. What is the fool afraid of the post for? it is the safest—the only safe conveyance. They never meddle but with political packets.
P.S. You ought to be a great admirer of the future Lady B. for three reasons, 1stly She is a grand patroness of the present Lady B. and always says “that she has no doubt that” she was exceedingly ill-used by me—2ndly She is an admirer of yours; and I have had great difficulty in keeping her from writing to you eleven pages, (for she is a grand Scribe), and 3rdly she having read “Don Juan” in a French translation—made me promise to write no more of it, declaring that it was abominable &c &c that Donna Inez was2 meant for Lady B. & in short made me vow not to continue it—(this occurred lately) & since the last cantos were sent to England last year). Is this not altogether odd enough? She has a good deal of us too. I mean that turn for ridicule like Aunt Sophy and you and I & all the B’s Desire Georgiana to write me a letter I suppose she can by this time.
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1 Erased (apparently not by the writer) and hardly legible. 2 Underlined twice. |
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Opened by me—and the Seal taken off—so—don’t accuse the post-office without cause
B—that’s a sign—a written one where the wax was.
