Chapter CIV: Letter 259: To Mr. Moore

"Venice, January 28. 1817.

"Your letter of the 8th is before me. The remedy for your plethora
is simple--abstinence. I was obliged to have recourse to the like
some years ago, I mean in point of _diet_, and, with the exception
of some convivial weeks and days, (it might be months, now and
then,) have kept to Pythagoras ever since. For all this, let me
hear that you are better. You must not _indulge_ in 'filthy
beer,' nor in porter, nor eat _suppers_--the last are the devil to
those who swallow dinner.

"I am truly sorry to hear of your father's misfortune--cruel at any
time, but doubly cruel in advanced life. However, you will, at
least, have the satisfaction of doing your part by him, and depend
upon it, it will not be in vain. Fortune, to be sure, is a female,
but not such a b * * as the rest (always excepting your wife and my
sister from such sweeping terms); for she generally has some
justice in the long run. I have no spite against her, though
between her and Nemesis I have had some sore gauntlets to run--but
then I have done my best to deserve no better. But to _you_, she is
a good deal in arrear, and she will come round--mind if she don't:
you have the vigour of life, of independence, of talent, spirit,
and character all with you. What you can do for yourself, you have
done and will do; and surely there are some others in the world who
would not be sorry to be of use, if you would allow them to be
useful, or at least attempt it.

"I think of being in England in the spring. If there is a row, by
the sceptre of King Ludd, but I'll be one; and if there is none,
and only a continuance of 'this meek, piping time of peace,' I will
take a cottage a hundred yards to the south of your abode, and
become your neighbour; and we will compose such canticles, and hold
such dialogues, as shall be the terror of the _Times_ (including
the newspaper of that name), and the wonder, and honour, and
praise of the Morning Chronicle and posterity.

"I rejoice to hear of your forthcoming in February--though I
tremble for the 'magnificence' which you attribute to the new
Childe Harold. I am glad you like it; it is a fine indistinct piece
of poetical desolation, and my favourite. I was half mad during the
time of its composition, between metaphysics, mountains, lakes,
love unextinguishable, thoughts unutterable, and the night-mare of
my own delinquencies. I should, many a good day, have blown my
brains out, but for the recollection that it would have given
pleasure to my mother-in-law; and, even _then_, if I could have
been certain to haunt her--but I won't dwell upon these trifling
family matters.

"Venice is in the _estro_ of her carnival, and I have been up these
last two nights at the ridotto and the opera, and all that kind of
thing. Now for an adventure. A few days ago a gondolier brought me
a billet without a subscription, intimating a wish on the part of
the writer to meet me either in gondola, or at the island of San
Lazaro, or at a third rendezvous, indicated in the note. 'I know
the country's disposition well'--in Venice 'they do let Heaven see
those tricks they dare not show,' &c. &c.; so, for all response, I
said that neither of the three places suited me; but that I would
either be at home at ten at night alone, or be at the ridotto at
midnight, where the writer might meet me masked. At ten o'clock I
was at home and alone (Marianna was gone with her husband to a
conversazione), when the door of my apartment opened, and in
walked a well-looking and (for an Italian) _bionda_ girl of about
nineteen, who informed me that she was married to the brother of my
_amorosa_, and wished to have some conversation with me. I made a
decent reply, and we had some talk in Italian and Romaic (her
mother being a Greek of Corfu), when lo! in a very few minutes in
marches, to my very great astonishment, Marianna S * *, _in propriâ
personâ_, and after making a most polite courtesy to her
sister-in-law and to me, without a single word seizes her said
sister-in-law by the hair, and bestows upon her some sixteen slaps,
which would have made your ear ache only to hear their echo. I need
not describe the screaming which ensued. The luckless visiter took
flight. I seized Marianna, who, after several vain efforts to get
away in pursuit of the enemy, fairly went into fits in my arms;
and, in spite of reasoning, eau de Cologne, vinegar, half a pint of
water, and God knows what other waters beside, continued so till
past midnight.

"After damning my servants for letting people in without apprizing
me, I found that Marianna in the morning had seen her
sister-in-law's gondolier on the stairs, and, suspecting that his
apparition boded her no good, had either returned of her own
accord, or been followed by her maids or some other spy of her
people to the conversazione, from whence she returned to perpetrate
this piece of pugilism. I had seen fits before, and also some small
scenery of the same genus in and out of our island: but this was
not all. After about an hour, in comes--who? why, Signor S * *, her
lord and husband, and finds me with his wife fainting upon a sofa,
and all the apparatus of confusion, dishevelled hair, hats,
handkerchiefs, salts, smelling bottles--and the lady as pale as
ashes, without sense or motion. His first question was, 'What is
all this?' The lady could not reply--so I did. I told him the
explanation was the easiest thing in the world; but in the mean
time it would be as well to recover his wife--at least, her senses.
This came about in due time of suspiration and respiration.

"You need not be alarmed--jealousy is not the order of the day in
Venice, and daggers are out of fashion, while duels, on love
matters, are unknown--at least, with the husbands. But, for all
this, it was an awkward affair; and though he must have known that
I made love to Marianna, yet I believe he was not, till that
evening, aware of the extent to which it had gone. It is very well
known that almost all the married women have a lover; but it is
usual to keep up the forms, as in other nations. I did not,
therefore, know what the devil to say. I could not out with the
truth, out of regard to her, and I did not choose to lie for my
sake;--besides, the thing told itself. I thought the best way would
be to let her explain it as she chose (a woman being never at a
loss--the devil always sticks by them)--only determining to protect
and carry her off, in case of any ferocity on the part of the
Signor. I saw that he was quite calm. She went to bed, and next
day--how they settled it, I know not, but settle it they did.
Well--then I had to explain to Marianna about this
never-to-be-sufficiently-confounded sister-in-law; which I did by
swearing innocence, eternal constancy, &c. &c. But the
sister-in-law, very much discomposed with being treated in such
wise, has (not having her own shame before her eyes) told the
affair to half Venice, and the servants (who were summoned by the
fight and the fainting) to the other half. But, here, nobody minds
such trifles, except to be amused by them. I don't know whether you
will be so, but I have scrawled a long letter out of these follies.

"Believe me ever," &c.

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