"Venice, August 26. 1818.
"You may go on with your edition, without calculating on the
Memoir, which I shall not publish at present. It is nearly
finished, but will be too long; and there are so many things,
which, out of regard to the living, cannot be mentioned, that I
have written with too much detail of that which interested me
least; so that my autobiographical Essay would resemble the tragedy
of Hamlet at the country theatre, recited 'with the part of Hamlet
left out by particular desire.' I shall keep it among my papers; it
will be a kind of guide-post in case of death, and prevent some of
the lies which would otherwise be told, and destroy some which have
been told already.
"The tales also are in an unfinished state, and I can fix no time
for their completion: they are also not in the best manner. You
must not, therefore, calculate upon any thing in time for this
edition. The Memoir is already above forty-four sheets of very
large, long paper, and will be about fifty or sixty; but I wish to
go on leisurely; and when finished, although it might do a good
deal for you at the time, I am not sure that it would serve any
good purpose in the end either, as it is full of many passions and
prejudices, of which it has been impossible for me to keep
clear:--I have not the patience.
"Enclosed is a list of books which Dr. Aglietti would be glad to
receive by way of price for his MS. letters, if you are disposed to
purchase at the rate of fifty pounds sterling. These he will be
glad to have as part, and the rest _I_ will give him in money, and
you may carry it to the account of books, &c. which is in balance
against me, deducting it accordingly. So that the letters are
yours, if you like them, at this rate; and he and I are going to
hunt for more Lady Montague letters, which he thinks of finding. I
write in haste. Thanks for the article, and believe me
"Yours," &c.
* * * * *
To the charge brought against Lord Byron by some English travellers of
being, in general, repulsive and inhospitable to his own countrymen, I
have already made allusion; and shall now add to the testimony then
cited in disproof of such a charge some particulars, communicated to me
by Captain Basil Hall, which exhibit the courtesy and kindliness of the
noble poet's disposition in their true, natural light.
"On the last day of August, 1818 (says this distinguished writer and
traveller), I was taken ill with an ague at Venice, and having heard
enough of the low state of the medical art in that country, I was not a
little anxious as to the advice I should take. I was not acquainted with
any person in Venice to whom I could refer, and had only one letter of
introduction, which was to Lord Byron; but as there were many stories
floating about of his Lordship's unwillingness to be pestered with
tourists, I had felt unwilling, before this moment, to intrude myself in
that shape. Now, however, that I was seriously unwell, I felt sure that
this offensive character would merge in that of a countryman in
distress, and I sent the letter by one of my travelling companions to
Lord Byron's lodgings, with a note, excusing the liberty I was taking,
explaining that I was in want of medical assistance, and saying I should
not send to any one till I heard the name of the person who, in his
Lordship's opinion, was the best practitioner in Venice.
"Unfortunately for me, Lord Byron was still in bed, though it was near
noon, and still more unfortunately, the bearer of my message scrupled to
awake him, without first coming back to consult me. By this time I was
in all the agonies of a cold ague fit, and, therefore, not at all in a
condition to be consulted upon any thing--so I replied pettishly, 'Oh,
by no means disturb Lord Byron on my account--ring for the landlord, and
send for any one he recommends.' This absurd injunction being forthwith
and literally attended to, in the course of an hour I was under the
discipline of mine host's friend, whose skill and success it is no part
of my present purpose to descant upon:--it is sufficient to mention that
I was irrevocably in his hands long before the following most kind note
was brought to me, in great haste, by Lord Byron's servant.
"'Venice, August 31. 1818.
"'Dear Sir,
"'Dr. Aglietti is the best physician, not only in Venice, but in
Italy: his residence is on the Grand Canal, and easily found; I
forget the number, but am probably the only person in Venice who
don't know it. There is no comparison between him and any of the
other medical people here. I regret very much to hear of your
indisposition, and shall do myself the honour of waiting upon you
the moment I am up. I write this in bed, and have only just
received the letter and note. I beg you to believe that nothing but
the extreme lateness of my hours could have prevented me from
replying immediately, or coming in person. I have not been called a
minute.--I have the honour to be, very truly,
"'Your most obedient servant,
"'BYRON.'
"His Lordship soon followed this note, and I heard his voice in the next
room; but although he waited more than an hour, I could not see him,
being under the inexorable hands of the doctor. In the course of the
same evening he again called, but I was asleep. When I awoke I found his
Lordship's valet sitting by my bedside. 'He had his master's orders,' he
said, 'to remain with me while I was unwell, and was instructed to say,
that whatever his Lordship had, or could procure, was at my service, and
that he would come to me and sit with me, or do whatever I liked, if I
would only let him know in what way he could be useful.'
"Accordingly, on the next day, I sent for some book, which was brought,
with a list of his library. I forget what it was which prevented my
seeing Lord Byron on this day, though he called more than once; and on
the next, I was too ill with fever to talk to any one.
"The moment I could get out, I took a gondola and went to pay my
respects, and to thank his Lordship for his attentions. It was then
nearly three o'clock, but he was not yet up; and when I went again on
the following day at five, I had the mortification to learn that he had
gone, at the same hour, to call upon me, so that we had crossed each
other on the canal; and, to my deep and lasting regret, I was obliged to
leave Venice without seeing him."
* * * * *