"La Mira, near Venice, July 8. 1817
"If you can convey the enclosed letter to its address, or discover
the person to whom it is directed, you will confer a favour upon
the Venetian creditor of a deceased Englishman. This epistle is a
dun to his executor, for house-rent. The name of the insolvent
defunct is, or was, _Porter Valter_, according to the account of
the plaintiff, which I rather suspect ought to be _Walter Porter_,
according to our mode of collocation. If you are acquainted with
any dead man of the like name a good deal in debt, pray dig him up,
and tell him that 'a pound of his fair flesh' or the ducats are
required, and that 'if you deny them, fie upon your law!'
"I hear nothing more from you about Moore's poem, Rogers, or other
literary phenomena; but to-morrow, being post-day, will bring
perhaps some tidings. I write to you with people talking Venetian
all about, so that you must not expect this letter to be all
English.
"The other day, I had a squabble on the highway, as follows: I was
riding pretty quickly from Dolo home about eight in the evening,
when I passed a party of people in a hired carriage, one of whom,
poking his head out of the window, began bawling to me in an
inarticulate but insolent manner. I wheeled my horse round, and
overtaking, stopped the coach, and said, 'Signor, have you any
commands for me?' He replied, impudently as to manner, 'No.' I then
asked him what he meant by that unseemly noise, to the discomfiture
of the passers-by. He replied by some piece of impertinence, to
which I answered by giving him a violent slap in the face. I then
dismounted, (for this passed at the window, I being on horseback
still,) and opening the door desired him to walk out, or I would
give him another. But the first had settled him except as to words,
of which he poured forth a profusion in blasphemies, swearing that
he would go to the police and avouch a battery sans provocation. I
said he lied, and was a * *, and if he did not hold his tongue,
should be dragged out and beaten anew. He then held his tongue. I
of course told him my name and residence, and defied him to the
death, if he were a gentleman, or not a gentleman, and had the
inclination to be genteel in the way of combat. He went to the
police, but there having been bystanders in the
road,--particularly a soldier, who had seen the business,--as well
as my servant, notwithstanding the oaths of the coachman and five
insides besides the plaintiff, and a good deal of paying on all
sides, his complaint was dismissed, he having been the
aggressor;--and I was subsequently informed that, had I not given
him a blow, he might have been had into durance.
"So set down this,--'that in Aleppo once' I 'beat a Venetian;' but
I assure you that he deserved it, for I am a quiet man, like
Candide, though with somewhat of his fortune in being forced to
forego my natural meekness every now and then.
"Yours, &c. B."
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