“The only interest I have taken in the old Church liturgies lies in their connection in one way and another with the writings of Dante, and I can tell you nothing upon the subject that you do not already know. “The oldest mention of the chant is made about 1401 by Bartolommeo Pisano. Maroni attributes the _Dies Iræ_ to Frangipani Malabranca Orsini, who was cardinal in 1278. Wadding, the biographer of the Franciscan Order Séraphique, ascribes it to Fra Tomaso da Celano, _qui floruit sub anno_ 1250. Such attributions are altogether destitute of proof, but it is at any rate probable that it was composed in Italy during the twelfth century. “In the seventeenth century the defective text of the Roman Missal was further impaired. A marble tablet preserved in the church of San Francesco at Mantua offers an older and more perfect version of the poem. If you would like me to do so, I will have the _Marmor Mantuanum_ copied for you. I shall be delighted if you will make use of me in this as in other ways; nothing would give me more pleasure than to be able to serve you. “In return, please be good enough to copy for me a letter, written by Mabillon and preserved in the town library; it is one of the Joliette bequest, collection B, No. 3715^8, folio 70. The passage that particularly interests me refers to the _Anecdota_ of Muratori. Coming from you I shall value it still more. “It is my opinion, by the way, that Muratori did not believe in God. It has always been my wish to write a book on the atheist-theologians, the number of whom is considerable. Forgive me for the trouble to which I am putting you by asking you to visit the public library; I trust that you may be rewarded by a meeting with the golden-haired fairy who guards the entrance, and whose dainty ears listen to your flattering remarks the while she swings in her fingers the huge keys that lock away the ancient treasures of your town. Speaking of this fairy reminds me that my days of love are over, and that it is high time for me to cultivate some favourite vice. Life would be sad indeed if the rosy swarm of errant thoughts did not come sometimes to console the old age of the most respectable folk. I am safe in sharing such sound wisdom with a mind as rare and capable of comprehension as your own. “When you come to Florence I will introduce you to a nymph who guards the house of Dante, and who is well worth your fairy. You will admire her chestnut hair, her black eyes, her full bust, and her nose you will consider a miracle of loveliness. It is of medium size, straight and fine, with delicate nostrils. I mention this particularly because you know that nature is not good at noses, and too often spoils a pretty face by her clumsiness in that direction.