"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 Stael 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." * * * * * LETTER 253. TO MR. MOORE. "Venice, December 24. 1816. "I have taken a fit of writing to you, which portends postage--once from Verona--once from Venice, and again from Venice--_thrice_ that is. For this you may thank yourself, for I heard that you complained of my silence--so, here goes for garrulity. "I trust that you received my other twain of letters. My 'way of life' (or 'May of life,' which is it, according to the commentators?)--my 'way of life' is fallen into great regularity. In the mornings I go over in my gondola to babble Armenian with the friars of the convent of St. Lazarus, and to help one of them in correcting the English of an English and Armenian grammar which he is publishing. In the evenings I do one of many nothings--either at the theatres, or some of the conversaziones, which are like our routs, or rather worse, for the women sit in a semicircle by the lady of the mansion, and the men stand about the room. To be sure, there is one improvement upon ours--instead of lemonade with their ices, they hand about stiff _rum-punch--punch_, by my palate; and this they think _English_. I would not disabuse them of so agreeable an error,--'no, not for Venice.'