“An English newspaper here would be a prodigy, and an opposition one a monster; and except some extracts from extracts in the vile, garbled Paris gazettes, nothing of the kind reaches the Veneto-Lombard public, who are perhaps the most oppressed in Europe. My correspondencies with England are mostly on business, and chiefly with my * * *, who has no very exalted notion, or extensive conception, of an author’s attributes; for he once took up an Edinburgh Review, and, looking at it a minute, said to me, ‘So, I see you have got into the magazine,’—which is the only sentence I ever heard him utter upon literary matters, or the men thereof.
“My first news of your Irish Apotheosis has, consequently, been from yourself. But, as it will not be forgotten in a hurry, either by your friends or your enemies, I hope to have it more in detail from some of the former, and, in the meantime, I wish you joy with all my heart. Such a moment must have been a good deal better than Westminster-abbey,—besides being an assurance of that one day (many years hence, I trust,) into the bargain.
“I am sorry to perceive, however, by the close of your
letter, that even you have not escaped the ‘surgit
amari,’ &c. and that your damned deputy has been gathering such
‘dew from the still vext Bermoothes’—or
rather vexatious. Pray, give me some items of the affair, as you
say it is a serious one; and, if it grows more so, you should make a trip over here for
a few months, to see how things turn out. I suppose you are a violent admirer of England
by your staying so long in it. For my own part, I have passed, between the age of
one-and-twenty and thirty, half the intervenient years out of it without regretting any
thing, except that I ever returned to it at all, and the gloomy prospect before me of
business and parentage obliging me, one day, to return to it again,—at least, for
| 198 | NOTICES OF THE | A. D. 1818. |
“I have here my natural daughter, by name Allegra,—a pretty little girl enough, and reckoned like papa†. Her mamma is English,—but it is a long story, and—there’s an end. She is about twenty months old. * * * * * * *
“I have finished the First Canto (a long one, of about 180 octaves) of a poem in the style and manner of ‘Beppo,’ encouraged by the good success of the same. It is called ‘Don Juan,’ and is meant to be a little quietly facetious upon every thing. But I doubt whether it is not—at least, as far as it has yet gone—too free for these very modest days. However, I shall try the experiment, anonymously, and if it don’t take, it will be discontinued. It is dedicated to S * * in good, simple, savage verse, upon the * * * *’s politics, and the way he got them. But the bore of copying it out is intolerable; and if I had an amanuensis he would be of no use, as my writing is so difficult to decipher.
“My poem’s Epic, and is meant to be Divided in twelve books, each book containing, With love and war, a heavy gale at sea— A list of ships, and captains, and kings reigning— New characters, &c. &c. |
|
† This little child had been sent to him by its mother about four or five months before, under the care of a Swiss nurse, a young girl not above nineteen or twenty years of age, and in every respect unit to have the charge of such an infant, without the superintendence of some more experienced person. “The child, accordingly.” says my informant, “was but ill taken care of;—not that any blame could attach to Lord Byron, for he always expressed himself most anxious for her welfare, but because the nurse wanted the necessary experience. The poor girl was equally to be pitied; for, as Lord Byron’s household consisted of English and Italian men servants, with whom she could hold no converse, and as there was no other female to consult with and assist her in her charge, nothing could be more forlorn than her situation proved to be.” Soon after the date of the above letter, Mrs. Hoppner, the lady of the Consul General, who had, from the first, in compassion both to father and child, invited the little Allegra occasionally to her house, very kindly proposed to Lord Byron to take charge of her altogether, and an arrangement was accordingly concluded upon for that purpose. |
| A. D. 1818. | LIFE OF LORD BYRON. | 199 |
“In writing the Life of Sheridan, never mind the angry lies of the
humbug whigs. Recollect that he was an Irishman and a clever fellow, and that we have
had some very pleasant days with him. Don’t forget that he was at school at
Harrow, where, in my time, we used to show his name—R. B. Sheridan,
1765—as an honour to the walls. Remember * *
* * * *
* *
* * * *
* *
* *
* * * * *
* *
* * Depend upon it that there were worse folks going, of that
gang, than ever Sheridan was.
“What did Parr mean by ‘haughtiness and coldness?’ I listened to him with admiring ignorance, and respectful silence. What more could a talker for fame have?—they don’t like to be answered. It was at Payne Knight’s I met him, where he gave me more Greek than I could carry away. But I certainly meant to (and did) treat him with the most respectful deference.
“I wish you good night, with a Venetian benediction,
‘Benedetto te, e la terra che ti fara!’—‘May you
be blessed, and the earth which you will make’—is it not pretty? You would think it still prettier if you had
heard it, as I did two hours ago, from the lips of a Venetian girl, with large black
eyes, a face like Faustina’s, and the figure
of a Juno—tall and energetic as a Pythoness, with
eyes flashing, and her dark hair streaming in the moonlight—one of those women who may
be made any thing. I am sure if I put a poniard into the hand of this one, she would
plunge it where I told her,—and into me, if I offended her. I
like this kind of animal, and am sure that I should have preferred Medea to any woman that ever breathed. You may, perhaps,
wonder that I don’t in that case *
* * * * *
* *
* * * *
* *
*
* * * * * *
* I could have forgiven the dagger or the bowl, any thing,
but the deliberate desolation piled upon me, when I stood alone upon my hearth, with my
household gods shivered around me†. *
* * *
|
| 200 | NOTICES OF THE | A. D. 1818. |
