"Venice, Dec. 9. 1816.
"In a letter from England, I am informed that a man named Johnson
has taken upon himself to publish some poems called a 'Pilgrimage
to Jerusalem, a Tempest, and an Address to my Daughter,' &c., and
to attribute them to me, adding that he had paid five hundred
guineas for them. The answer to this is short: _I never wrote such
poems, never received the sum he mentions, nor any other in the
same quarter, nor_ (as far as moral or mortal certainty can be
sure) _ever had, directly or indirectly, the slightest
communication with Johnson in my life_; not being aware that the
person existed till this intelligence gave me to understand that
there were such people. Nothing surprises me, or this perhaps
_would_, and most things amuse me, or this probably would _not_.
With regard to myself, the man has merely _lied_; that's natural;
his betters have set him the example. But with regard to you, his
assertion may perhaps injure you in your publications; and I desire
that it may receive the most public and unqualified contradiction.
I do not know that there is any punishment for a thing of this
kind, and if there were, I should not feel disposed to pursue this
ingenious mountebank farther than was necessary for his
confutation; but thus far it may be necessary to proceed.
"You will make what use you please of this letter; and Mr.
Kinnaird, who has power to act for me in my absence, will, I am
sure, readily join you in any steps which it may be proper to take
with regard to the absurd falsehood of this poor creature. As you
will have recently received several letters from me on my way to
Venice, as well as two written since my arrival, I will not at
present trouble you further.
"Ever, &c.
"P.S. Pray let me hear that you have received this letter. Address
to Venice, _poste restante_.
"To prevent the recurrence of similar fabrications, you may state,
that I consider myself responsible for no publication from the year
1812 up to the present date which is not from your press. I speak
of course from that period, because, previously, Cawthorn and Ridge
had both printed compositions of mine. 'A Pilgrimage to Jerusalem!'
How the devil should I write about _Jerusalem_, never having yet
been there? As for 'A Tempest,' it was _not_ a _tempest_ when I
left England, but a very fresh breeze: and as to an 'Address to
little Ada,' (who, by the way, is a year old to-morrow,) I never
wrote a line about her, except in 'Farewell' and the third Canto of
Childe Harold."
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