'tive sanction), with a scandal, which can only make 'you ridiculous and her unhappy."

'He swore that he thought our intercourse was 'purely amicable, and that I was more partial to him than to her, till melancholy testimony proved the contrary. To this they answer, that "Will of this wisp" was not an unknown person, and that "clamosa Fama" had not proclaimed the purity of my morals; '—that her brother, a year ago, wrote from Rome to warn him that his wife would infallibly be led astray by this ignis fatuus, unless he took proper measures, 'all of which he neglected to take, &c. &c.

Now he says that he encouraged my return to 'Ravenna, to see "in quanti piedi di acqua siamo," and ' he has found enough to drown him in. In short, "Ce ne fut pas le tout; sa femme se plaignit― Procès-La parenté se joint en excuse et dit Que du Docteur venoit tout le mauvais ménage; Que cet homme étoit fou, que sa femme étoit sage. On fit casser le mariage."

It is but to let the women alone, in the way of conflict, for they are sure to win against the field. She ' returns to her father's house, and I can only see her ' under great restrictions-such is the custom of the 'country. The relations behave very well;-I offered

any settlement, but they refused to accept it, and 'swear she sha'n't live with G. (as he has tried to prove her faithless), but that he shall maintain her; ' and, in fact, a judgment to this effect came yesterday. 'I am, of course, in an awkward situation enough.

'I have heard no more of the carabiniers who pro'tested against my liveries. They are not popular, 'those same soldiers, and, in a small row, the other night, one was slain, another wounded, and divers

'put to flight, by some of the Romagnuole youth, who are dexterous, and somewhat liberal of the knife. The perpetrators are not discovered, but I hope ' and believe that none of my ragamuffins were in it, though they are somewhat savage, and secretly 'armed, like most of the inhabitants. It is their way, and saves sometimes a good deal of litigation.

There is a revolution at Naples. If so, it will probably leave a card at Ravenna in its way to Lom'bardy.

'Your publishers seem to have used you like mine. 'M. has shuffled, and almost insinuated that my last productions are dull. Dull, sir!—damme, dull! 'I believe he is right. He begs for the completion of 'my tragedy on Marino Faliero, none of which is yet gone to England. The fifth act is nearly completed, 'but it is dreadfully long-40 sheets of long paper, of '4 pages each-about 150 when printed; but "so full of pastime and prodigality" that I think it ' will do.

Pray send and publish your Pome upon me; and 'don't be afraid of praising me too highly. I shall pocket my blushes.

*

Not actionable!"-Chantre d'enfer * !-by "that's" a speech," and I won't put up with it. A pretty title to give a man for doubting if there be any such place!

'So my Gail is gone-and Miss Mahony won't take money. I am very glad of it—I like to be generous 'free of expense. But beg her not to translate me.

'Oh, pray tell Galignani that I shall send him a 'screed of doctrine if he don't be more punctual. 'Somebody regularly detains two, and sometimes four, * The title given him by M. Lamartine, in one of his Poems.

' of his Messengers by the way. Do, pray, entreat 'him to be more precise. News are worth money in 'this remote kingdom of the Ostrogoths.

Pray, reply. I should like much to share some of your Champagne and La Fitte, but I am too Italian for Paris in general. Make Murray send my letter 'to you-if is full of epigrams.

'Yours, &c.'

In the separation that had now taken place between Count Guiccioli and his wife, it was one of the conditions that the lady should, in future, reside under the paternal roof:-in consequence of which, Madame Guiccioli, on the 16th of July, left Ravenna and retired to a villa belonging to Count Gamba, about fifteen miles distant from that city. Here Lord Byron occasionally visited her about once or twice, perhaps, in a month-passing the rest of his time in perfect solitude. To a mind like his, whose world was within itself, such a mode of life could have been neither new nor unwelcome; but to the woman, young and admired, whose acquaintance with the world and its pleasures had but just begun, this change was, it must be confessed, most sudden and trying. Count Guiccioli was rich, and, as a young wife, she had gained absolute power over him. She was proud, and his station placed her among the highest in Ravenna. They had talked of travelling to Naples, Florence, Paris, and every luxury, in short, that wealth could command was at her disposal.

All this she now voluntarily and determinedly sacrificed for Byron. Her splendid home abandonedher relations all openly at war with her-her kind father but tolerating, from fondness, what he could not

approve she was now, upon a pittance of 2001. a year, living apart from the world, her sole occupation the task of educating herself for her illustrious lover, and her sole reward the few brief glimpses of him which their now restricted intercourse allowed. Of the man who could inspire and keep alive so devoted a feeling, it may be pronounced with confidence that he could not have been such as, in the freaks of his own wayward humour, he represented himself; while, on the lady's side, the whole history of her attachment goes to prove how completely an Italian woman, whether by nature or from her social position, is led to invert the usual course of such frailties among ourselves, and, weak in resisting the first impulses of passion, to reserve the whole strength of her character for a display of constancy and devotedness afterwards.

* Ravenna, July 17th, 1820. 'I have received some books, and Quarterlies, and 'Edinburghs, for all which I am grateful; they con'tain all I know of England, except by Galignani's

newspaper.

'The tragedy is completed, but now comes the task ' of copy and correction. It is very long (42 sheets ' of long paper, of four pages each), and I believe must make more than 140 or 150 pages, besides many historical extracts as notes, which I mean to append. History is closely followed. Dr. Moore's ' account is in some respects false, and in all foolish ' and flippant. None of the chronicles (and I have 'consulted Sanuto, Sandi, Navagero, and an anonymous Siege of Zara, besides the histories of Laugier, Daru, Sismondi, &c.) state, or even hint, that he

'begged his life; they merely say that he did not deny the conspiracy. He was one of their great men,-commanded at the siege of Zara,-beat 80,000 Hungarians, killing 8000, and at the same time kept the town he was besieging in order,'took Capo d'Istria,—was ambassador at Genoa, Rome, and finally Doge, where he fell for treason, ' in attempting to alter the government, by what Sa'nuto calls a judgment on him for, many years before

(when Podesta and Captain of Treviso), having 'knocked down a bishop, who was sluggish in carrying the host at a procession. He "saddles him,” as Thwackum did Square, "with a judgment;" but he 'does not mention whether he had been punished at the time for what would appear very strange, even now, and must have been still more so in an age of 'papal power and glory. Sanuto says, that Heaven 'took away his senses for this buffet, and induced him ' to conspire. "Però fu permesso che il Faliero per' dette l' intelletto," &c.

'I do not know what your parlour-boarders will think of the Drama I have founded upon this extra'ordinary event. The only similar one in history is 'the story of Agis, King of Sparta, a prince with the 'commons against the aristocracy, and losing his life 'therefor. But it shall be sent when copied.

6

'I should be glad to know why your Quartering 'Reviewers, at the close of "the Fall of Jerusalem," accuse me of Manicheism? a compliment to which 'the sweetener of "one of the mightiest spirits" by 6 no means reconciles me. The poem they review is very noble; but could they not do justice to the 'writer without converting him into my religious an'tidote? I am not a Manichean, nor an Any-chean.