"Ravenna, August 9. 1819.
"Talking of blunders reminds me of Ireland--Ireland of Moore.
What is this I see in Galignani about
'Bermuda--agent--deputy--appeal--attachment,' &c.? What is the
matter? Is it any thing in which his friends can be of use to him?
Pray inform me.
"Of Don Juan I hear nothing further from you; * * *, but the papers
don't seem so fierce as the letter you sent me seemed to
anticipate, by their extracts at least in Galignani's Messenger. I
never saw such a set of fellows as you are! And then the pains
taken to exculpate the modest publisher--he remonstrated, forsooth!
I will write a preface that _shall_ exculpate _you_ and * * *, &c.
completely, on that point; but, at the same time, I will cut you
up, like gourds. You have no more soul than the Count de Caylus,
(who assured his friends, on his death-bed, that he had none, and
that _he_ must know better than they whether he had one or no,) and
no more blood than a water-melon! And I see there hath been
asterisks, and what Perry used to called 'd_o_mned cutting and
slashing'--but, never mind.
"I write in haste. To-morrow I set off for Bologna. I write to you
with thunder, lightning, &c. and all the winds of heaven whistling
through my hair, and the racket of preparation to boot. 'My
mistress dear, who hath fed my heart upon smiles and wine' for the
last two months, set off with her husband for Bologna this morning,
and it seems that I follow him at three to-morrow morning. I
cannot tell how our romance will end, but it hath gone on hitherto
most erotically. Such perils and escapes! Juan's are as child's
play in comparison. The fools think that all my _poeshie_ is always
allusive to my _own_ adventures: I have had at one time or another
better and more extraordinary and perilous and pleasant than these,
every day of the week, if I might tell them; but that must never
be.
"I hope Mrs. M. has accouched.
"Yours ever."
* * * * *