Chapter 4

"Ravenna, November 5. 1820.

"Thanks for your letter, which hath come somewhat costively; but better late than never. Of it anon. Mr. Galignani, of the Press, hath, it seems, been sup-planted and sub-pirated by another Parisian publisher, who has audaciously printed an edition of L.B.'s Works, at the ultra-liberal price of ten francs, and (as Galignani piteously observes) eight francs only for booksellers! 'horresco referens.' Think of a man's _whole_ works producing so little!

"Galignani sends me, post haste, a permission _for him, from me,_ to publish, &c. &c. which _permit_ I have signed and sent to Mr. Murray of Albemarle Street. Will you explain to G. _that I_ have no right to dispose of Murray's works without his leave? and therefore I must refer him to M. to get the permit out of his claws--no easy matter, I suspect. I have written to G. to say as much; but a word of mouth from a 'great brother author' would convince him that I could not honestly have complied with his wish, though I might legally. What I could do, I have done, viz. signed the warrant and sent it to Murray. Let the dogs divide the carcass, if it is killed to their liking.

"I am glad of your epigram. It is odd that we should both let our wits run away with our sentiments; for I am sure that we are both Queen's men at bottom. But there is no resisting a clinch--it is so clever! Apropos of that--we have a 'diphthong' also in this part of the world--not a _Greek_, but a _Spanish_ one--do you understand me?--which is about to blow up the whole alphabet. It was first pronounced at Naples, and is spreading; but we are nearer the Barbarians; who are in great force on the Po, and will pass it, with the first legitimate pretext.

"There will be the devil to pay, and there is no saying who will or who will not be set down in his bill. If 'honour should come unlooked for' to any of your acquaintance, make a Melody of it, that his ghost, like poor Yorick's, may have the satisfaction of being plaintively pitied--or still more nobly commemorated, like 'Oh breathe not his name.' In case you should not think him worth it, here is a Chant for you instead--

"When a man hath no freedom to fight for at home, Let him combat for that of his neighbours; Let him think of the glories of Greece and of Rome, And get knock'd on the head for his labours.

"To do good to mankind is the chivalrous plan, And is always as nobly requited; Then battle for freedom wherever you can, And, if not shot or hang'd, you'll get knighted.

"So you have gotten the letter of 'Epigrams'--I am glad of it. You will not be so, for I shall send you more. Here is one I wrote for the endorsement of 'the Deed of Separation' in 1816; but the lawyers objected to it, as superfluous. It was written as we were getting up the signing and sealing. * * has the original.

"_Endorsement to the Deed of Separation, in the April of 1816._

"A year ago you swore, fond she! 'To love, to honour, and so forth: Such was the vow you pledged to me, And here's exactly what 'tis worth.

"For the anniversary of January 2. 1821, I have a small grateful anticipation, which, in case of accident, I add--

"_To Penelope, January 2. 1821._

"This day, of all our days, has done The worst for me and you:-- 'Tis just _six_ years since we were _one_, And _five_ since we were _two_.

"Pray excuse all this nonsense; for I must talk nonsense just now, for fear of wandering to more serious topics, which, in the present state of things, is not safe by a foreign post.

"I told you in my last, that I had been going on with the 'Memoirs,' and have got as far as twelve more sheets. But I suspect they will be interrupted. In that case I will send them on by post, though I feel remorse at making a friend pay so much for postage, for we can't frank here beyond the frontier.

"I shall be glad to hear of the event of the Queen's concern. As to the ultimate effect, the most inevitable one to you and me (if they and we live so long) will be that the Miss Moores and Miss Byrons will present us with a great variety of grandchildren by different fathers.

"Pray, where did you get hold of Goethe's Florentine husband-killing story? Upon such matters, in general, I may say, with Beau Clincher, in reply to Errand's wife--

"'Oh the villain, he hath murdered my poor Timothy!'

"'_Clincher_. Damn your Timothy!--I tell you, woman, your husband has _murdered me_--he has carried away my fine jubilee clothes.'

"So Bowles has been telling a story, too ('tis in the Quarterly), about the woods of 'Madeira,' and so forth. I shall be at Bowles again, if he is not quiet. He mis-states, or mistakes, in a point or two. The paper is finished, and so is the letter.

"Yours," &c.

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