Chapter XCVII: Letter 252: To Mr. Moore

"Venice, November 17. 1816.

"I wrote to you from Verona the other day in my progress hither,
which letter I hope you will receive. Some three years ago, or it
may be more, I recollect your telling me that you had received a
letter from our friend Sam, dated 'On board his gondola.' _My_
gondola is, at this present, waiting for me on the canal; but I
prefer writing to you in the house, it being autumn--and rather an
English autumn than otherwise. It is my intention to remain at
Venice during the winter, probably, as it has always been (next to
the East) the greenest island of my imagination. It has not
disappointed me; though its evident decay would, perhaps, have that
effect upon others. But I have been familiar with ruins too long to
dislike desolation. Besides, I have fallen in love, which, next to
falling into the canal, (which would be of no use, as I can swim,)
is the best or the worst thing I could do. I have got some
extremely good apartments in the house of a 'Merchant of Venice,'
who is a good deal occupied with business, and has a wife in her
twenty-second year. Marianna (that is her name) is in her
appearance altogether like an antelope. She has the large, black,
oriental eyes, with that peculiar expression in them which is seen
rarely among _Europeans_--even the Italians--and which many of the
Turkish women give themselves by tinging the eyelid,--an art not
known out of that country, I believe. This expression she has
_naturally_,--and something more than this. In short, I cannot
describe the effect of this kind of eye,--at least upon me. Her
features are regular, and rather aquiline--mouth small--skin clear
and soft, with a kind of hectic colour--forehead remarkably good:
her hair is of the dark gloss, curl, and colour of Lady J * *'s:
her figure is light and pretty, and she is a famous
songstress--scientifically so; her natural voice (in conversation,
I mean) is very sweet; and the naïveté of the Venetian dialect is
always pleasing in the mouth of a woman.

"November 23.

"You will perceive that my description, which was proceeding with
the minuteness of a passport, has been interrupted for several
days.

"December 5.

"Since my former dates, I do not know that I have much to add on
the subject, and, luckily, nothing to take away; for I am more
pleased than ever with my Venetian, and begin to feel very serious
on that point--so much so, that I shall be silent.

"By way of divertisement, I am studying daily, at an Armenian
monastery, the Armenian language. I found that my mind wanted
something craggy to break upon; and this--as the most difficult
thing I could discover here for an amusement--I have chosen, to
torture me into attention. It is a rich language, however, and
would amply repay any one the trouble of learning it. I try, and
shall go on;--but I answer for nothing, least of all for my
intentions or my success. There are some very curious MSS. in the
monastery, as well as books; translations also from Greek
originals, now lost, and from Persian and Syriac, &c.; besides
works of their own people. Four years ago the French instituted an
Armenian professorship. Twenty pupils presented themselves on
Monday morning, full of noble ardour, ingenuous youth, and
impregnable industry. They persevered, with a courage worthy of the
nation and of universal conquest, till Thursday; when _fifteen_ of
the _twenty_ succumbed to the six-and-twentieth letter of the
alphabet. It is, to be sure, a Waterloo of an Alphabet--that must
be said for them. But it is so like these fellows, to do by it as
they did by their sovereigns--abandon both; to parody the old
rhymes, 'Take a thing and give a thing'--'Take a king and give a
king.' They are the worst of animals, except their conquerors.

"I hear that H----n is your neighbour, having a living in
Derbyshire. You will find him an excellent-hearted fellow, as well
as one of the cleverest; a little, perhaps, too much japanned by
preferment in the church and the tuition of youth, as well as
inoculated with the disease of domestic felicity, besides being
over-run with fine feelings about woman and _constancy_ (that small
change of Love, which people exact so rigidly, receive in such
counterfeit coin, and repay in baser metal); but, otherwise, a very
worthy man, who has lately got a pretty wife, and (I suppose) a
child by this time. Pray remember me to him, and say that I know
not which to envy most his neighbourhood--him, or you.

"Of Venice I shall say little. You must have seen many
descriptions; and they are most of them like. It is a poetical
place; and classical, to us, from Shakspeare and Otway. I have not
yet sinned against it in verse, nor do I know that I shall do so,
having been tuneless since I crossed the Alps, and feeling, as yet,
no renewal of the 'estro.' By the way, I suppose you have seen
'Glenarvon.' Madame de Staël lent it me to read from Copet last
autumn. It seems to me that if the authoress had written the
_truth_, and nothing but the truth--the whole truth--the _romance_
would not only have been more romantic, but more entertaining. As
for the likeness, the picture can't be good--I did not sit long
enough. When you have leisure, let me hear from and of you,
believing me ever and truly yours most affectionately, B.

"P.S. Oh! _your poem_--is it out? I hope Longman has paid his
thousands: but don't you do as H * * T * *'s father did, who,
having made money by a quarto tour, became a vinegar merchant;
when, lo! his vinegar turned sweet (and be d----d to it) and ruined
him. My last letter to you (from Verona) was enclosed to
Murray--have you got it? Direct to me _here, poste restante_. There
are no English here at present. There were several in
Switzerland--some women; but, except Lady Dalrymple Hamilton, most
of them as ugly as virtue--at least, those that I saw."

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