Chapter LXII: Letter 333: To Mr. Murray

"Ravenna, June 29. 1819.

"The letters have been forwarded from Venice, but I trust that you
will not have waited for further alterations--I will make none.

"I have no time to return you the proofs--publish without them. I
am glad you think the poesy good; and as to 'thinking of the
effect,' think _you_ of the sale, and leave me to pluck the
porcupines who may point their quills at you.

"I have been here (at Ravenna) these four weeks, having left Venice
a month ago;--I came to see my 'Amica,' the Countess Guiccioli, who
has been, and still continues, very unwell. * * She is only in her
seventeenth, but not of a strong constitution. She has a perpetual
cough and an intermittent fever, but bears up most _gallantly_ in
every sense of the word. Her husband (this is his third wife) is
the richest noble of Ravenna, and almost of Romagna; he is also
_not_ the youngest, being upwards of three-score, but in good
preservation. All this will appear strange to you, who do not
understand the meridian morality, nor our way of life in such
respects, and I cannot at present expound the difference;--but you
would find it much the same in these parts. At Faenza there is Lord
* * * * with an opera girl; and at the inn in the same town is a
Neapolitan Prince, who serves the wife of the Gonfaloniere of that
city. I am on duty here--so you see 'Cosi fan tut_ti_ e tut_te_.'

"I have my horses here, _saddle_ as well as carriage, and ride or
drive every day in the forest, the _Pineta_, the scene of
Boccaccio's novel, and Dryden's fable of Honoria, &c. &c.; and I
see my Dama every day; but I feel seriously uneasy about her
health, which seems very precarious. In losing her, I should lose a
being who has run great risks on my account, and whom I have every
reason to love--but I must not think this possible. I do not know
what I _should_ do if she died, but I ought to blow my brains
out--and I hope that I should. Her husband is a very polite
personage, but I wish he would not carry me out in his coach and
six, like Whittington and his cat.

"You ask me if I mean to continue D.J. &c. How should I know? What
encouragement do you give me, all of you, with your nonsensical
prudery? publish the two Cantos, and then you will see. I desired
Mr. Kinnaird to speak to you on a little matter of business; either
he has not spoken, or you have not answered. You are a pretty pair,
but I will be even with you both. I perceive that Mr. Hobhouse has
been challenged by Major Cartwright--Is the Major 'so cunning of
fence?'--why did not they fight?--they ought.

"Yours," &c.

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