Chapter 80

"October 2. 1813.

"You have not answered some six letters of mine. This, therefore, is my penultimate. I will write to you once more, but, after that--I swear by all the saints--I am silent and supercilious. I have met Curran at Holland House--he beats every body;--his imagination is beyond human, and his humour (it is difficult to define what is wit) perfect. Then he has fifty faces, and twice as many voices, when he mimics--I never met his equal. Now, were I a woman, and eke a virgin, that is the man I should make my Scamander. He is quite fascinating. Remember, I have met him but once; and you, who have known him long, may probably deduct from my panegyric. I almost fear to meet him again, lest the impression should be lowered. He talked a great deal about you--a theme never tiresome to me, nor any body else that I know. What a variety of expression he conjures into that naturally not very fine countenance of his! He absolutely changes it entirely. I have done--for I can't describe him, and you know him. On Sunday I return to * *, where I shall not be far from you. Perhaps I shall hear from you in the mean time. Good night.

"Saturday morn--Your letter has cancelled all my anxieties. I did _not suspect_ you in _earnest_. Modest again! Because I don't do a very shabby thing, it seems, I 'don't fear your competition.' If it were reduced to an alternative of preference, I _should_ dread you, as much as Satan does Michael. But is there not room enough in our respective regions? Go on--it will soon be my turn to forgive. To-day I dine with Mackintosh and Mrs. _Stale_--as John Bull may be pleased to denominate Corinne--whom I saw last night, at Covent Garden, yawning over the humour of Falstaff.

"The reputation of 'gloom,' if one's friends are not included in the _reputants_, is of great service; as it saves one from a legion of impertinents, in the shape of common-place acquaintance. But thou know'st I can be a right merry and conceited fellow, and rarely 'larmoyant.' Murray shall reinstate your line forthwith.[85] I believe the blunder in the motto was mine:--and yet I have, in general, a memory for _you_, and am sure it was rightly printed at first.

"I do 'blush' very often, if I may believe Ladies H. and M.;--but luckily, at present, no one sees me. Adieu."

[Footnote 85: The motto to The Giaour, which is taken from one of the Irish Melodies, had been quoted by him incorrectly in the first editions of the poem. He made afterwards a similar mistake in the lines from Burns prefixed to the Bride of Abydos.]

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