“You owe me two letters—pay them. I want to know what you
are about. The summer is over, and you will be back to Paris. Apropos of Paris, it was
not Sophia Gail, but
Sophia Gay—the English
| A. D. 1820. | LIFE OF LORD BYRON. | 359 |
“Have you gone on with your Poem? I have received the French of mine. Only think of being traduced into a foreign language in such an abominable travesty! It is useless to rail, but one can’t help it.
“Have you got my Memoir copied? I have begun a continuation. Shall I send it you, as far as it is gone?
“I can’t say any thing to you about Italy, for the Government here look upon me with a suspicious eye, as I am well informed. Pretty fellows!—as if I, a solitary stranger, could do any mischief. It is because I am fond of rifle and pistol shooting, I believe; for they took the alarm at the quantity of cartridges I consumed—the wiseacres!
“You don’t deserve a long letter—nor a letter at all—for your silence. You have got a new Bourbon, it seems, whom they have christened ‘Dieu-donné;’—perhaps the honour of the present may be disputed. Did you write the good lines on ——, the Laker? * *
“The Queen has made a pretty theme for the journals. Was there ever such evidence published? Why, it is worse than ‘Little’s Poems’ or ‘Don Juan.’ If you don’t write soon, I will ‘make you a speech.’
