LETTER 494. TO MR. MURRAY.

"Montenero[80], May 26. 1822.

"Near Leghorn.

"The body is embarked, in what ship I know not, neither could I

enter into the details; but the Countess G.G. has had the goodness

to give the necessary orders to Mr. Dunn, who superintends the

embarkation, and will write to you. I wish it to be buried in

Harrow church.

"There is a spot in the church_yard_, near the footpath, on the

brow of the hill looking towards Windsor, and a tomb under a large

tree, (bearing the name of Peachie, or Peachey,) where I used to

sit for hours and hours when a boy. This was my favourite spot;

but, as I wish to erect a tablet to her memory, the body had better

be deposited in the church. Near the door, on the left hand as you

enter, there is a monument with a tablet containing these words:--

"'When Sorrow weeps o'er Virtue's sacred dust,

Our tears become us, and our grief is just:

Such were the tears she shed, who grateful pays

This last sad tribute of her love and praise.'

I recollect them (after seventeen years), not from any thing

remarkable in them, but because from my seat in the gallery I had

generally my eyes turned towards that monument. As near it as

convenient I could wish Allegra to be buried, and on the wall a

marble tablet placed, with these words:--

In Memory of

Allegra,

Daughter of G.G. Lord Byron,

who died at Bagna Cavallo,

in Italy, April 20th, 1822,

aged five years and three months.

'I shall go to her, but she shall not return to me.'

2d Samuel, xii. 23.

"The funeral I wish to be as private as is consistent with decency;

and I could hope that Henry Drury will, perhaps, read the service

over her. If he should decline it, it can be done by the usual

minister for the time being. I do not know that I need add more

just now.

"Since I came here, I have been invited by the Americans on board

their squadron, where I was received with all the kindness which I

could wish, and with _more ceremony_ than I am fond of. I found

them finer ships than your own of the same class, well manned and

officered. A number of American gentlemen also were on board at the

time, and some ladies. As I was taking leave, an American lady

asked me for a _rose_ which I wore, for the purpose, she said, of

sending to America something which I had about me, as a memorial. I

need not add that I felt the compliment properly. Captain Chauncey

showed me an American and very pretty edition of my poems, and

offered me a passage to the United States, if I would go there.

Commodore Jones was also not less kind and attentive. I have since

received the enclosed letter, desiring me to sit for my picture for

some Americans. It is singular that, in the same year that Lady

Noel leaves by will an interdiction for my daughter to see her

father's portrait for many years, the individuals of a nation, not

remarkable for their liking to the English in particular, nor for

flattering men in general, request me to sit for my

'pourtraicture,' as Baron Bradwardine calls it. I am also told of

considerable literary honours in Germany. Goethe, I am told, is my

professed patron and protector. At Leipsic, this year, the highest

prize was proposed for a translation of two cantos of Childe

Harold. I am not sure that this was at _Leipsic_, but Mr. Rowcroft

was my authority--a good German scholar (a young American), and an

acquaintance of Goethe's.

"Goethe and the Germans are particularly fond of Don Juan, which

they judge of as a work of art. I had heard something of this

before through Baron Lutzerode. The translations have been very

frequent of several of the works, and Goethe made a comparison

between Faust and Manfred.

"All this is some compensation for your English native brutality,

so fully displayed this year to its highest extent.

"I forgot to mention a little anecdote of a different kind. I went

over the Constitution (the Commodore's flag-ship), and saw, among

other things worthy of remark, a little boy _born_ on board of her

by a sailor's wife. They had christened him 'Constitution Jones.'

I, of course, approved the name; and the woman added, 'Ah, sir, if

he turns out but half as good as his name!'

"Yours ever," &c.

[Footnote 80: A hill, three or four miles from Leghorn, much resorted

to, as a place of residence during the summer months.]

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