"Venice, March 3. 1817.
"In acknowledging the arrival of the article from the
'Quarterly[129],' which I received two days ago, I cannot express
myself better than in the words of my sister Augusta, who (speaking
of it) says, that it is written in a spirit 'of the most feeling
and kind nature.' It is, however, something more; it seems to me
(as far as the subject of it may be permitted to judge) to be
_very well_ written as a composition, and I think will do the
journal no discredit, because even those who condemn its partiality
must praise its generosity. The temptations to take another and a
less favourable view of the question have been so great and
numerous, that, what with public opinion, politics, &c. he must be
a gallant as well as a good man, who has ventured in that place,
and at this time, to write such an article even anonymously. Such
things are, however, their own reward; and I even flatter myself
that the writer, whoever he may be (and I have no guess), will not
regret that the perusal of this has given me as much gratification
as any composition of that nature could give, and more than any
other has given,--and I have had a good many in my time of one kind
or the other. It is not the mere praise, but there is a _tact_ and
a _delicacy_ throughout, not only with regard to me, but to
_others_, which, as it had not been observed _elsewhere_, I had
till now doubted whether it could be observed _any where_.
"Perhaps some day or other you will know or tell me the writer's
name. Be assured, had the article been a harsh one, I should not
have asked it.
"I have lately written to you frequently, with _extracts_, &c.,
which I hope you have received, or will receive, with or before
this letter.--Ever since the conclusion of the Carnival I have been
unwell, (do not mention this, on any account, to Mrs. Leigh; for if
I grow worse, she will know it too soon, and if I get better, there
is no occasion that she should know it at all,) and have hardly
stirred out of the house. However, I don't want a physician, and
if I did, very luckily those of Italy are the worst in the world,
so that I should still have a chance. They have, I believe, one
famous surgeon, Vacca, who lives at Pisa, who might be useful in
case of dissection:--but he is some hundred miles off. My malady is
a sort of lowish fever, originating from what my 'pastor and
master,' Jackson, would call 'taking too much out of one's self.'
However, I am better within this day or two.
"I missed seeing the new Patriarch's procession to St. Mark's the
other day (owing to my indisposition), with six hundred and fifty
priests in his rear--a 'goodly army.' The admirable government of
Vienna, in its edict from thence, authorising his installation,
prescribed, as part of the pageant, 'a _coach_ and four horses.' To
show how very, very '_German_ to the matter' this was, you have
only to suppose our parliament commanding the Archbishop of
Canterbury to proceed from Hyde Park Corner to St. Paul's Cathedral
in the Lord Mayor's barge, or the Margate hoy. There is but St.
Mark's Place in all Venice broad enough for a carriage to move, and
it is paved with large smooth flag-stones, so that the chariot and
horses of Elijah himself would be puzzled to manoeuvre upon it.
Those of Pharaoh might do better; for the canals--and particularly
the Grand Canal--are sufficiently capacious and extensive for his
whole host. Of course, no coach could be attempted; but the
Venetians, who are very naïve as well as arch, were much amused
with the ordinance.
"The Armenian Grammar is published; but my Armenian studies are
suspended for the present till my head aches a little less. I sent
you the other day, in two covers, the first Act of 'Manfred,' a
drama as mad as Nat. Lee's Bedlam tragedy, which was in 25 acts and
some odd scenes:--mine is but in Three Acts.
"I find I have begun this letter at the wrong end: never mind; I
must end it, then, at the right.
"Yours ever very truly and obligedly," &c.
[Footnote 129: An article in No. 31. of this Review, written, as Lord
Byron afterwards discovered, by Sir Walter Scott, and well meriting, by
the kind and generous spirit that breathes through it, the warm and
lasting gratitude it awakened in the noble poet.]
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