“And now let us be literary;—­a sad falling off, but it is always a consolation.  If ‘Othello’s occupation be gone,’ let us take to the next best; and, if we cannot contribute to make mankind more free and wise, we may amuse ourselves and those who like it.  What are you writing?  I have been scribbling at intervals, and Murray will be publishing about now.

     “Lady Noel has, as you say, been dangerously ill; but it may
     console you to learn that she is dangerously well again.

“I have written a sheet or two more of Memoranda for you; and I kept a little Journal for about a month or two, till I had filled the paper-book.  I then left it off, as things grew busy, and, afterwards, too gloomy to set down without a painful feeling.  This I should be glad to send you, if I had an opportunity; but a volume, however small, don’t go well by such posts as exist in this Inquisition of a country.

“I have no news.  As a very pretty woman said to me a few nights ago, with the tears in her eyes, as she sat at the harpsichord, ‘Alas! the Italians must now return to making operas.’  I fear that and maccaroni are their forte, and ’motley their only wear.’  However, there are some high spirits among them still.  Pray write.  And believe me,” &c.

* * * * *

LETTER 422.  TO MR. MOORE.

     “Ravenna, May 3. 1821.

“Though I wrote to you on the 28th ultimo, I must acknowledge yours of this day, with the lines[35].  They are sublime, as well as beautiful, and in your very best mood and manner.  They are also but too true.  However, do not confound the scoundrels at the heel of the boot with their betters at the top of it.  I assure you that there are some loftier spirits.

“Nothing, however, can be better than your poem, or more deserved by the Lazzaroni.  They are now abhorred and disclaimed nowhere more than here.  We will talk over these things (if we meet) some day, and I will recount my own adventures, some of which have been a little hazardous, perhaps.

“So, you have got the Letter on Bowles[36]?  I do not recollect to have said any thing of you that could offend,—­certainly, nothing intentionally.  As for * *, I meant him a compliment.  I wrote the whole off-hand, without copy or correction, and expecting then every day to be called into the field.  What have I said of you?  I am sure I forget.  It must be something of regret for your approbation of Bowles.  And did you not approve, as he says?  Would I had known that before!  I would have given him some more gruel.[37] My intention was to make fun of all these fellows; but how I succeeded, I don’t know.

“As to Pope, I have always regarded