"I have been unwell--caught a cold and inflammation, which menaced a conflagration, after dining with our ambassador, Monsieur Hill,--not owing to the dinner, but my carriage broke down in the way home, and I had to walk some miles, up hill partly, after hot rooms, in a very bleak, windy evening, and over-hotted, or over-colded myself. I have not been so robustious as formerly, ever since the last summer, when I fell ill after a long swim in the Mediterranean, and have never been quite right up to this present writing. I am thin,--perhaps thinner than you saw me, when I was nearly transparent, in 1812,--and am obliged to be moderate of my mouth; which, nevertheless, won't prevent me (the gods willing) from dining with your friends the day after to-morrow. "They give me a very good account of you, and of your nearly 'Emprisoned Angels.' But why did you change your title?--you will regret this some day. The bigots are not to be conciliated; and, if they were--are they worth it? I suspect that I am a more orthodox Christian than you are; and, whenever I see a real Christian, either in practice or in theory, (for I never yet found the man who could produce either, when put to the proof,) I am his disciple. But, till then, I cannot truckle to tithe-mongers,--nor can I imagine what has made _you_ circumcise your Seraphs. "I have been far more persecuted than you, as you may judge by my present decadence,--for I take it that I am as low in popularity and book-selling as any writer can be. At least, so my friends assure me--blessings on their benevolence! This they attribute to Hunt; but they are wrong--it must be, partly at least, owing to myself; be it so. As to Hunt, I prefer _not_ having turned him to starve in the streets to any personal honour which might have accrued from such genuine philanthropy. I really act upon principle in this matter, for we have nothing much in common; and I cannot describe to you the despairing sensation of trying to do something for a man who seems incapable or unwilling to do any thing further for himself,--at least, to the purpose. It is like pulling a man out of a river who directly throws himself in again. For the last three or four years Shelley assisted, and had once actually extricated him. I have since his demise,--and even before,--done what I could: but it is not in my power to make this permanent. I want Hunt to return to England, for which I would furnish him with the means in comfort; and his situation _there_, on the whole, is bettered, by the payment of a portion of his debts, &c.; and he would be on the spot to continue his Journal, or Journals, with his brother, who seems a sensible, plain, sturdy, and enduring person." * *