Paris January 27 1784.

You ask me after Lady K. and Miss S. Neither have
as yet made their appearance. The latest arrivals of
notoriety from our English world are Lady Clarges - escorted
by her faithful chevalier and Lady Craven by her footman.
The former are caressed and invited to every thing by every
body - the latter -

Far from splendor, far from trouble,
Deeming fame an empty bubble,
Free from Husband, care and strife
Leads a calm, domestic life -

and so let her by all means. I will never come within
glare again of her magnificent eyes - if I can help it.
They scorch me up, and if I happen to mention you, dart
thunder bolts. This I cannot endure. Most different
is the expression our beloved Moli, as Sacchini calls her,
gives her glances when you form the subject of conversation.
The/

Alluding to the footman with whom she retired from
England - hence the grand scandal which banished her
Ladyship once for all from St. James's. This fellows
favor did not last at Paris above a month or two. Upon
his dismissal, a Comte de Brossac took the place, who was
supplanted in his turn by one of the Vernons and to him after
many other vicissitudes of the same genus succeeded the
best looking of her admirers M. le Cte de Tilly ancien
page du Roi - the miserable margrave all the while
"brochant sur le tout" (like an escotcheon of pretence
in pencil).

-2-

The admiration she feels, in all sincerity for you, is
glowing, and vehement; but at the same time, not without
a delightful mixture of tenderness. This disposition
to talk about you from noon till night is to me all in
all - and in order to profit by it - I am for ever and
ever at Lady Clargeses. Her dear little self and her
devoted Moli lead me where they please. I cannot quit
them. They are no every day copies of every day people.
Originality marks them for her own, and they act as that
glorious power dictates without submission to any rules
that were ever established. So do I - no wonder we
agree so perfectly. We have in common the most curious
instincts, superior to all the reason that ever was
boasted of. At three rooms off we are capable of
devining assembled fustitude and keeping out of its way.
When creeping things cross our path (as they did 2 or 3
nights ago at the D's of Manchesters) such as poor
dwindling Ld. St. Asaph and half a dozen others of the
same genus - we tread over them. When Lady Lucan appears
she stares and we stare, but push on with intrepidity.
Madame de Boufflers was all but thrown down by Molis
predominant elbow, and in one of my grand advances, I
ran my Marechal-powdered head full against tall Mr.
Whitworth's fine waistcoat. He looked queer, and would
have looked serious, had not Anthony Storer interposed
his good offices in true diplomatic style. So we shook
hands, and I proceeded clearing all to the right and to
the left as if unconscious that there existed any-bodies
in this breathing world except my own. It was a glorious
campaign in its way and we carried all before us. We
did/

-3-

did not however encamp on the field, though cordially
invited to a rousing supper, no - no - we hurry-scurried all
over the Foire St. Germain and two or three other idling
places of a more delicate renown and then got home at half
past one to a most comfortable poule au riz and delicious
maraschino sherbet which Moli knows how to compound delectably.
You have no conception to what a strange variety of places
we rattle to in the course of a week. One of our favourite
haunts is the Louvre and our great delight hunting out the
artists in harbours. Twas there, yesterday, we caught
Robert (who is as industrious as a spider) spinning a most
beautiful web, light aeriel enfilades of palaces, bowery
trees, fountains and waterfalls, gay as Watteau, but more
classical. It is astonishing with what facility these
creations grow under his pencil. They are intended for the
Comte d'Artois and most heartily do I envy H.R. Highness
their possession, - the hues of these lengthened perspectives,
these graceful avenues are so delicate so vapoury. The
applause we gave them afforded him such delight that upon
our telling him we were going to the Jardin du Roi he said -
me
Pray let me accompany you - an hour with you will repay ten
which I have passed by lamp light and dawnlight without
stirring from my easel - I don't know when I ever worked so
hard. He had but to ask, and we were most happy to comply.
Off we set, soon we arrived and I had not been in the garden
half an hour, before I met with an adventure - the great
Lioness fell in love with me. Robert had set down very
composedly to take the portraits of some peruvian aloes to
place in vases on the balustrades of his imaginary palaces -
the Ladies had fallen in with the young Comte de Buffon, who
insisted/

-4-

insisted upon galanting them round the principal repositories
of stuffed birds, aligators and crocodiles. Begging to be
excused this peregrination, I made straight to the land of
living curiosities. My first compliments were paid to a
wolf, who without shewing the smallest degree of fierce ness
advanced to the bars of his cage and peering through them
took a friendly dogish sniff at me. My next sweet looks
and tender speeches were completely thrown away upon a
hyena - the most haggard, malevolent, disconsolate animal
I ever met with. I had the patience to watch her dismal
prowlings for some time. Up and down, forwards and
backwards, unceasingly did she slink along, uttering a horrid
half human cry - looking as sad and woeful as we may imagine
a condemned soul would look,- just entered on the endless
path of a dreadful eternity. You may well suppose my eyes
were averted right willingly from this ghastly object to
the Queen of the brute creation the famous Lioness - renowned
for her extraordinary size and uncommon (sic) comeliness.
She was lying in her handsome Pavillion - with her glorious
muzzle between her enormous paws, - I thought in great
dudgeon, an opinion not shared it would seem by her keeper,
for he entered her iron palace without any ceremony. She
rose up with an air of serene not offended majesty - stood
stock still, and began looking me full in the face with
singular earnestness. I returned this mark of attention
by looking at her in my turn to the full as decidedly. By
degrees her eyes appeared to change colour and lose their
fierceness. Finding that my intense manner of gazing
produced a favorable effect I tried to confirm it by talking
to/

-5-

to her with every variety of sound I was master of, modulating
my voice into the most opposite tones, sometimes gentle,
sometimes peremptory. She answered me by the strangest of
subdued growls - it is possible to form any conception of. All
on a sudden she became as good humouredly playsome as the most
familiar of parlour spaniels - threw herself on her back,
rolicking and frolicking about in the highest glee conceivable -
her immense mouth as red and as large pretty nearly as a heated
oven, wide open the whole time as if distended by a fit of
laughter. She now uttered a sort of comfortable chuckling sound
which I answered by an imitation of this strange noise which
was crowned by the most perfect success - for the keeper turning
round to me with an obsequious bow said aloud - Monsieur - you
have won the affections of the Lioness so completely that if you
have any curiosity to enter within these bars and even touch her
you may with entire security. She is not more kindly disposed
towards myself than towards you. I have had a long experience
of her habits. I can interpret her looks and her language. She
has taken a fancy to you. She wants you to show her marks of
kindness. Advance - you need not hesitate. I would stake
my life upon the gentleness of her behaviour. An invitation
so consolant to my own interior wishes was immediately accepted,
and I entered the cage with such a pure and perfect confidence
as totally precluded the sensation of fear. I smoothed down
the enormous paw which the keeper took up and held forth to me -
leisurely and deliberately touching one after the other the
terrific talons with which it was armed. Whilst I was thus
engaged - the royal captive lowered her head mildly - half
closing her eyes as if disposed to fall quietly asleep. You
know/

-6-

know my predilection for animals, and to think I possessed
the power of conciliating one so formidable enchanted me
beyond idea. The uncommon sounds which had been issuing from
the Lionesses abode during the last half hour drew a crowd of
idle spectators around us, whose surprise at seeing me quite
at home in so perilous a situation passed all bounds. Had
these good people beheld the Prophet Daniel himself in the
Babylonian den, or the three holy children walking unsinged
through Nebuchadnezzars fiery furnace, they could not have
testified a greater degree of astonishment. Can this be
possible, exclaimed forty or fifty voices in chorus! What
talisman does this young gentleman possess? Who ever before
took a Lioness in this fashion by the paw? How the d—l
did she suffer such an audacious liberty? Ah Messieurs
replied the keeper "Qui peut repondre des caprices des Dames"
pas moi assurement. This was convincing - every one felt the
truth of the observation from his own private experience, and
every one withdrew shrugging up his shoulders - gesticulating
with his hands and pesting and diabling with heart and soul
against the Englishman, whose boldness or rather impudence -
they thought far more deserving of reproof than admiration.
I had not quitted my beloved's grated boudoir nor relinquished
fondling her lovely paw when Lady Clarges, Robert, Miss Carter,
and the Comte de Buffon came up. I thought poor Lady Clarges
would have fainted, so great was her terror at this unexpected
spectacle. Her faithful companion bore the strange sight
with masculine fortitude - Monsieur de Buffon with a something
not unlike national jealousy. All agreed in pronouncing it
to be one of the most decided instances of love at first sight
on the part of the Lioness, and of very unwise hardiness on
mine/

-7-

mine ever heard of. Robert, who is as lively as light and
remarkably fond of every thing out of the common routine was
in perfect extasy. I will set off, said he, without a
moment's delay and tell Monseigneur le Comte d'Artois what I
have seen, but can scarcely credit - adieu milord, notre pere
Adam was a fool to you. He was as good as his word, for Lady
Clermont, who was present when he arrived, told me that his
 animated narrative of her Leonine Majesty's condescending
kindness and my temerity excited the greatest surprise in the
royal circle and that nothing else was talked of at Versailles
during the whole evening.

---
Before closing my letter, I must not forget
informing you that the Lioness expressed her sorrow for my
departure by setting up a roar so loud, so vigourous, so
but
terrible, that it seemed to shake the cage I had just quitted
to its very foundation. My whole party shuddered and looked
aghast. I, for my own part, felt a more uneasy sensation,
when reflecting upon the risk I had run of being snapped up
by this tremendous vocalist, than at the moment of actual
danger. Do not imagine, however, that I shall cease following
my
up with "bonne fortune". I mean to visit her Leonine Majesty
tomorrow, and many a tomorrow, I hope, after that. You know
I am pretty perseverant. I know also, my beloved Louisa, that
you are not alarmed for my safety in any particular. Have
you not repeatedly had reason to believe that I am watched
over by a guardian power - that an invisible protection invests
me that has not hitherto failed upon any occasion either with
respect to animals, or the Lords of creation themselves?

x Note.

I went at least 20 times after this to the Jardin du Roi, and
was/

-8-

was invariably received by the Lioness with the most evident
marks of affection. Upon my return to Paris from Spain in
the year 1788, she recognised me the very first instant I
appeared before her.— The same keeper preceded me into the
same cage where she lay extended with her young: he took
up one of the cubs and gave it into my hand — she looking
on with the utmost complacency. After caressing it with
sincere fondness, I returned it myself to the mother, who
shewed every sign of approbation, and even manifested an
intention of licking my hand — an honour, however, I begged
leave to decline — the keeper telling me that having once
himself received this most rough, though flattering distinction
he never wished to have it again repeated. He said his hand
had been fairly excoriated.

Read to Rogers 13 March 1840.
to Mrs. Gore 26 July 1840.

To A. 17 May 1841.

[The above in pencil in Beckford's hand].

Paris in 1784.

The "jours gras" are over and we have entered into those
which by courtesy are styled lean. The Devil, as usual
no loser, is laughing almost aloud at his baffled antagonists
Monseigneur l'Archevesque's exhortations to keep lent,
placarded all over the town have been pelted with old-laid
eggs most bespatteringly: his commandments, and those of the
Decalogue, are certainly preached up in five hundred pulpits
and as certainly trampled down in twenty times that number of
Caffes Boudoirs, and dining-rooms. Nothing so vulgar as
religion is ever alluded to at those select great dinners
and "petits soupers" where the new light of doubly refined
philosophy is shedding its beams - in profusion. The
insects it has hatched are acquiring fresh vigour every day.
Some lull all terror of the future asleep by their soft
drowsy hummings, others are sharpening their stings, and
even threaten to use them. In the mean while, Paris is
more festive, more glittering, and more abominably depraved
than it ever was known to be since the pious æra of Henry
the third and his chaste mother Catherine de Medicis. The
perpetual noise and bustle of theatres, ball rooms, and
gaming houses passes all idea. Every variety - every
contrast of sound may be heard here from night till morning
and from morning till night - speaking metaphorically - the
cooing of doves, the hiss of serpents the song of the
nightingale and the braying of the ass. The Capital,
perhaps, was never before so thickly or effervescently
peopled. Its traps continually set as continually catch
victims, and its innumerable dens of corruption and crime
which/

-2-

which, instead of being put down, are almost legally
protected, seldom close without lacerating in some shape
or other to the very quick the dupes who enter them.
Beneath these dens are some still deeper atrocities—
perpetrated in the chase of pleasure are such as make my
blood boil and freeze alternately. O for a Serpent
Scourge and all the tremendous power ancient mythology
assigned to the Furies that I might revenge the insults
humanity receives in these sinks of revolting vice!'
Every/

 Readers acquainted with the Justine and Juliette of
 the Marquis de Sades will comprehend my horror and
 indignation at the style of amusement these dens afforded.
 The volumes referred to (the most blasphemous and obscene
 ever printed and which came hot from Hell soon after the
 date of this letter) are filled with the records of
 experiments tried for the purpose of exciting by every
 species of torture the most unheard of debaucheries.
 How Majendie would have enjoyed such ingenious essays on
 the nervous system'. The experiments he has been suffered
to perform on living animals were to the full as
excruciating, and firmly do I believe that the terror
of _still_ existing laws _alone_ prevents this Monster
from dissecting the human subject alive. Nothing
would gratify his insatiable curiosity so highly nor
from the whole _tenor_ of his professional career am
I disinclined to credit, what I have frequently heard,
that it has been already gratified.

-3-

Every thing at Paris one sees, one hears, one feels from
the painted face to the cork protuberance is shear art.
Rousseau's prose poems in praise of nature have been sung
in vain. Nature is forgotten or unknown. I am sick to
death of the pedantic gabble in such vogue here at the
present moment in the highest circles about political wants
and political miseries, admiration for rebellious America
and contempt for cathedrals and palaces, Versailles and
Rheims certainly not excepted. The turgid display of
sentiment, not one of these titled praters and prateresses
actually feel, is to me perfectly nauseous. The reality
of their liberal wishes and good will to the people at
large is so problematical that I am more than persuaded
this pretended milk of human kindness would turn to the
deadliest poison at the first evident approach of a
patriotic thunder storm. That such a tempest is brewing
requires no inspiration to foretell. Alas! Louisa, it
matters but little to us what colours the sky assumes or
what storms burst from it, circumstances we no longer
controul keep us assunder - all that can most depress my
spirits and wither my heart is concentrated in that idea.

Paris 2 March 1784.

The set you stand in such awe of - arrived the very
day you predicted. I continue to like Id. Lucan very
much. He is shrewd - pleasant, and quick - but the
latter epithet cannot with any shadow of truth be applied
to Miladi. She is more vehement, more active and takes
longer strides than ever. Yesterday for three hours
running did she whisk me up and down the flights of
stairs and mighty cool apartments of the Bibliothèque
Royale - on the high hunt after portraits - for a
Shakespeare she is manufacturing in I know not how many
ponderous volumes and upon which she has lavished already
more burnished gold leaf and gaudy colouring than ever
bedizened the King's State Coach - or the City barge.
You would have trembled had you seen her distending her
nostrils like an Ogress scenting her prey, and still
more had you heard the strange inquisitorial questions
she had the confidence not to say impudence of asking
me about you. I was prepared for something of this
kind, Lady Margaret having told me that during the last
visit she received from her and which was prolonged
pretty nearly through the whole evening she kept on
introducing your praises by main force at every turn
and even twist of the conversation. How I detest
these perfidious praises my beloved Louisa - knowing
too well to what they tend'. They have already done
a world of mischief, and are likely to do a great deal
more. Deliver me therefore O gracious Heaven from
this meddling, ranting, flaunting over-accomplished dame,
and so pray, with equal fervour, I believe, the poor
worried guardian of the royal Library. The complaints
he/

-2-

he makes of her creasing the books and scratching the
M.S.S. are bitter indeed. Most sincerely do I pity -
most perfectly can I sympathise with his sorrows for no
longer ago than last night - had I not resorted to a
decisive coup de main - my finest purchase at the
Valliere sale would have been utterly ruined. She
was in the very act of demonstrating its perfections
by prising a beautiful madonnas eye out with her
sharp-pointed nail - when making a lucky snatch at the
book, I bore it off like a whirl wind to her speechless
astonishment, for she seems never to have imagined that
there existed her equal upon earth in violence and
tantrumical activity. More for the purpose of
dissipating mournful reflections than any other, I
have busied myself lately a great deal in selecting
books from the late Due de la Valliere's admirable
collection - and had often the glorious misfortune
of having the Emperor and his most Christian Majesty
for competitors. I bought the M.S. just mentioned,
in spite of their august teeth. It glitters with golden
letters and curious miniatures where amongst other
nonsensical figures shine Jupiter and Juno married by
a mitred priest before the image of our redeemer. I
was out bid for the famous guirlande de Julie and
the fleurs de Rabel - but I regret neither. What I
have carried off, pleases me better - but much as I like
for an opportunity of shewing the other half
my purchases how willingly would I give one half to you.
When will that opportunity arrive? My heart sickens
every time I reflect upon the uncertainties in which
both of us are doomed to live. I see no point of
light in the far distance, although I strain my eyes
to catch the faintest ray.

-2-

in my best style, did not exactly delight Gardel, who took
the liberty of observing that I rose much higher into the
air than was at all necessary. This exhibition ended and
another pounce from Mademoiselle brought me to the harpsichord,
where sat Piccini like a King on his throne. He accompanied
me admirably - much less, I believe, to his own satisfaction
than mine, for all he said was "I perceive you have heard
Pachierolli". It was next Mademoiselle's turn to display
her musical abilities, which she did with a vengeance, for
she sung incomparably out of tune from the first note to the
last of the grand aria in Piccini's Didon. He said nothing,
but looked daggers. His most animated pupil had scarcely
quavered the last roulade, when the great doors of the grand
saloon flying open discovered a synod of sallow "literati"
in full court dresses, and a row of long waisted pink and
yellow dowagers all seated on fauteuils composed of the
stiffest tapestry all taking deliberate pinches of snuff at
frequent intervals, and all determined to cross examine poor
unfortunate me as if I had been actually expected to take
degrees in their supremely dull coterie. In this exemplary
task they were aided and abetted by Buffon, de la Lalande
and a host of scavants their literary confessors. Zoology,
Geology, and Meteorology formed the chief topics discussed, but
tautology prevailed over all, for the same deductions from the
same statements were repeated over and over and over again,
every time, it appeared to me, with additional driness. The
dinner was more unctuous than the discourse - to the affliction
of my stomach you may easily imagine. Of the whole formidable
party assembled at table, the master of the house himself was
the least husky and wearisome. I had been told that he felt
much depressed by the loss of power. Whether he entertains
warm/

-3-

warm hopes of regaining it, or whether the consciousness
of having acted uprightly, according to his Genevan notions,
sustains his spirits, I cannot say, but I never beheld any
mortal being more complacently self-satisfied. It does
one good to witness the serene and happy attention with
which he listens to all the fine things his flatterers and
satellites (still a numerous band) are perpetually declaiming
to his glory and praise, but the person of all others to whom
he gives ear the most assiduously is his own dear self. I
often put in a few words to the same tune, which coming from
a hopeful young man, who had read his de Lolme and other
worshipful works of similar plausibility never fails to
elicit a placid smile. Indeed, I must say he always treats
me with peculiar kindness and even a sort of deference the
exact reason for which I have not yet discovered. After
all, and in spite of the rank prejudices against him, so
rife in the circles in which I chiefly move, it must be
allowed that he possesses intellectual qualities of a high
description. As to his exterior, it reminds me of the
maître d'hôtel in the ballet de Mirza - nothing but a napkin
under the arm wanting to perfect the ressemblance. When he
has just received a well turned compliment, his mouth becomes as
round as the letter O and he appears as if on the point of
whistling a bul-finchish reply. His pedantic, domineering
consort (nee Curchand) is a very different sort of personage -
just such a one as Molière would have gloried in - half
precieuse-ridicule and half Comtesse d'Escarbagnas - the latter
character she certainly acted before me in perfection. Singing
and declaiming to please your name sake and antipode the brown
Louise had completely parched me up. Being therefore as
thirsty as the deserts of Arabia, I begged earnestly for a
very large goblet of water. I happened to be seated by
Madame/

-4-

Madame in the very centre of her magnificent saloon. The goblet was brought in. I had scarcely begun quaffing it when she screamed out. "Monsieur - in these cases it is the etiquette to rise from your seat, and take your glass of water at the distance of at least two or three paces". Is it so indeed Madame, answered I, I beg ten thousand pardons. I will immediately retire, - and so I did, but my foot slipping accidentally (or the reverse, which ever you like best to conjecture -) the whole remaining contents of the capacious goblet fell into Madame's richly brocaded lap. I leave you to figure to yourself her angry gestures, the general surprise, the general consternation, and the lightning-like swiftness with which I darted to the door of the apartment. It had hardly closed upon me, when it was re-opened in most violent haste by Mademoiselle Louise assisted by Marmontell - and followed by her father lamenting the catastrophe which had just taken place and beseeching me to return, and hear explanations. None would I hear. None would I accept. I ran down the stairs without looking behind me, and never intend to run up them again. So help me Providence'.

VI. A

xxx Note to this letter written 9th Decr. 1838.

“Immured we were au pied de la lettre for three days
following - doors and windows so strictly closed that
neither common day light nor common place visitors
could get in or even peep in - care worn visages were
ordered to keep aloof - no sunk-in mouths or furroughed
foreheads were permitted to meet our eye. Our society
was extremely youthful and lovely to look upon, for
not only Louisa in all her gracefulness, but her intimate
friend - the Sophia often mentioned in some of these
letters - and perhaps the most beautiful woman in
England, threw over it a fascinating charm. Throughout
the/

-4-

the arched halls and vast apartments we ranged in,
prevailed a soft and tempered radiance - distributed
with much skill under the direction of Loutherbourg -
himself a mystagogue. The great mansion at Fonthill
a
which I demolished to rear up, still more extraordinary
edifice was admirably calculated for the celebration of
the mysteries. The solid Egyptian Hall (i) looked as if
hewn out of a living rock. The line of apartments and
apparently endless passages extending from it on either
side were all vaulted - an interminable staircase, which,
when you looked down it, appeared as deep as the well in
the pyramid - and when you looked up - was lost in vapour,
led to suites of stately apartments gleaming with marble
pavements - as polished as glass - and gaudy ceilings -
painted by Garati, with all the proflicacy of pencil - for
which in that evil day for the arts he was so admired.

From these princely rooms a broad flight of richly carpetted
comfortable steps led to another world of decorated
chambers and a gallery designed by Soane; still above
which - approached by winding stairs - you entered another
gallery filled with curious works of art and precious
cabinets. Through all these suites - through all these
galleries - did we roam and wander - too often hand in
hand - strains of music swelling forth at intervals -
sometimes the organ - sometimes concerted pieces - in
which three of the greatest singers then in Europe -
Pacchiarrotti, Tenduci, and Bauzzini - for a wonder of
wonders - most amicably joined - sometimes a chaunt was
heard - issuing, no one could devine from whence - innocent
affecting/

Casali

(1) "Old Fonthill House cl. (see p. 75)."

-5-

affecting sounds - that stole into the heart with a
bewitching languor and melted the most beloved and
the most susceptible of my fair companions into tears.
Delightful indeed were these romantic wanderings -
delightful the streying about this little interior
world of exclusive happiness surrounded by lovely beings,
in all the freshness of their early bloom, so fitted to
enjoy it. Here, nothing was dull or vapid - here,
nothing ressembled in the least the common forms and
usages, the "train train" and routine of fashionable
existence - all was essence - the slightest approach
to sameness was here untolerated - monotony of every
kind was banished. Even the uniform splendour of
gilded roofs was partially obscured by the vapour of
wood of aloes ascending in wreaths from cassolettes
placed low on the silken carpets in porcelain salvers
of the richest japan. The delirium of delight into
which our young and fervid bosoms were cast by such a
combination of seductive influences may be conceived
but too easily. Even at this long, sad distance from
these days and nights of exquisite refinements chilled
by age, still more by the coarse unpoetic tenor of the
yet [sic] present disenchanting period - I still feel warmed and
irradiated by the recollections of that strange,
necromantic light which Loutherbourg had thrown over
what absolutely appeared a realm of Fairy or rather,
perhaps, a Demon Temple deep beneath the earth set apart
for tremendous mysteries - and yet how soft, how genial
was/

-6-

was this quiet light. Whilst the wretched world
without lay dark, and bleak, and howling, whilst the
storm was raging against our massive walls and the snow
drifting in clouds, the very air of summer seemed
playing around us - the choir of low-toned melodious
voices continued to sooth our ear, and that every sense
might in turn receive its blandishment tables covered
with delicious viands and fragrant flowers - glided
forth, by the aid of mechanism at stated intervals, from
the richly draped, and amply curtained recesses, of the
enchanted precincts. The glowing haze investing every
object, the mystic look, the vastness, the intricacy of
this vaulted labyrinth occasioned so bewildering an
effect that it became almost impossible for any one to
define - at the moment - where he stood, where he had
been, or to whither he was wandering - such was the
confusion - the perplexity, so many illuminated storys
of infinitely varied apartments gave rise to. It was,
in short, the realisation of romance in its most
extravagant intensity. No wonder such scenery inspired
the description of the Halls of Eblis. I composed
Vathek immediately upon my return to town thoroughly
embued with all that passed at Fonthill during this
voluptuous festival. It will be seen then that the
Khalifeh's adventures were written down, not at the age
of seventeen as Lord Byron has chosen to fancy, but at
the age of twenty and two.

VI F

12 Feb. 1782.

We were all in high glee this fair morning at the
Palazzo Courtenay - giggling and romping at a glorious
rate - coursing each other up and down stairs through
all the rooms in transports of hilarity. To increase
our happiness, the famous dancing dogs made their
appearance in the Square. There was Don Lelio in his
Field Marshal's uniform, la Signora Rosalba in her
slatternly silk petticoat and la Contessa Dorothea in
her preposterous hoop. Let us have them up, cried the
children and so we will, cried I, - by all the powers
of the nursery, and up they came and set to dancing with
great solemnity. Don Lelio in spite of his imposing
uniform had rather a currish look - a cast of the retired
turnspit - but the Contessas drooping paws as she crimbled
along - were quite sentimental - - the conductor, a wizzend,
baboonical piedmontese, very formal and serious, was plying
his squeaking fiddle most ruefully, when a musical thought
darted into my brain with such vehemence that I rushed to
the harpsichord and fell a playing, with all my soul, and
with all my might a sort of minuet, so flowing, so grand,
and at the same time so tenderly voluptuous, that Sacchini
hallood out from the next room, where he was giving a lesson
to C[C]Aspetta - Aspetta I moost write dis down, and so
he did, bestowing upon it very extravagant commendations.
Both Lady Mountedgecombe and Lord Abingdon, who happened
to come in during the most fervent paroxysm of my musical
"estro", appeared delighted beyond bounds, and kept praising
not only the composer of the minuet but the dancers - in
the most enthusiastically glowing terms - repeating again
and again how admirable', how divine'. Not so divine - very
gravely/

-2-

gravely said the sneaking Piedmontese under a strong
suspicion of being quizzed – not so divine – poor
things'. "hanno la gratella". You shall have this
famous X minuet if I can get it out of Sacchini clutches, –
if not, I will try to write it down myself – shorn of
accompaniment and of that ethereal spirit which, ten to
one, has already evaporated.

X Famous it was doomed to become, for the great Maestro
turned it into a chorus for female voices, and placed
it "sans ceremonie", and without adding or diminishing
a note, in the 1st act of his Oedipus

25 Feb. 1782.

We had one of the pleasantest parties imaginable
t'other night at Lady Clargesses - quite in our own
way - none but the faithful in Pacchierotti invited -
not a single suspicious or heretical personage. Mary
(sic) did not manifest herself in consequence of a swabble
creature the chevalier Molly Carter was in the highest
possible flow of her most exuberant good spirits a little
bordering, perhaps, on the obstreperous. I shall not
forget in a hurry the vivacity of her eager looks - nor
above all the grasp of the arm by which she took me into
a darkish sheltered corner on purpose to ask ten thousand
questions about you - how you looked, - how you sung -
where you were going - when you were coming - how I could
live at a distance from you and not blow my brains out,
and so forth, and so forth, her eyes glaring all the
while through the gloom like a couple of post-chaise
lanterns. She absolutely adores you and by a reflected
light is condescendingly partial to me. We were ranting
you may believe in no very discreet or quiet manner when
the graceful mistress of the mansion breathed forth a
gentle hush and began singing a notturno with Pacchierotti
in that subdued tone we delight in - your own dear style -
your own most perfect intonation like the smooth harmonious
song of the blest in the elysian scenes of Gluck's Orfeo.
The moment I caught these sounds, that moment forgetting
every thing else and every body, I wrapped myself up in
the folds of an immense curtain and there I remained
entranced while they were singing and re-singing "Pur nel
sonno almen talora" - and when did I last hear this touching
melody/

-2-

melody? Alas - Louisa - it was at Fiesso - what time the
admirably well tuned voices of the Galuzzi and Marietta
Cornaro threw me into that strange delirium which had
nearly proved fatal not only to myself but to one for whom
I felt the most enthusiastic friendship. You will know the
words of this affecting notturno, but not yet the translation
I made of them. Here it is - such as it is -

Pur nel sonno almen talora
Vieu colei che ni innamora
Le mie pene a confolar
Rendi amor se giusto sei
Piu verace i sogni miei
O non farmi risvegliar.

When sleep its magic balm distills,
The form I love my vision fills,
Swift flies each tort'ring pain.
Imperious God thy justice prove
Ah realize the dream of love,
Or wake me not again.

X This was a passion of the mind - resembling those generous
attachments we venerate in ancient history, and holy writ -
what David felt towards the brother of his heart, the son
of Saul, - I experienced towards the person here alluded to.

Viki

Wimpole St. March 17th 1782.

"The Begum is raving at a rate, the prince of the abyss himself has no conception of, whilst Aunt Effingham blows up the flames, and declares it shall no longer be her fault if they do not envelope Peter and make him blaze. She tells every body that comes in her way, royal and unroyal that _she_, at least, is completely scandalized and believes _all_ the wild tales which were so charitably circulated of our orientalisms last December at Fonthill. Be not alarmed Louisa. Let us defy their venom. The more it rankles - the more your soul will be rivetted to mine. I cannot write the millionth part of what I feel - but I will fly down to you - in defiance of their machinations - let them assume what colour they may. Thursday I reach Fonthill, and Saturday will bring me, I hope, under the shadow of your guardian mountain.

Bertoni accompanies me, so we shall not want for music - at intervals during the tragic melodrama - for such it may become - unless our good kind Sir George interferes with his fanatical consort to prevent it. Peter cannot be propitiated for ever. Wildman complains bitterly of the last loan and is talking in horrors already about ways and means to meet a catastrophe he is taught by the ruling power in the corner of Grosvener Square to expect every

We used to give my mother that appealation on account of her strong tendency to a sort of oriental-like despotism.

My father's sister, a Lady of the bed chamber and a prime
favourite confidentially dining very often with the K. and
l -- when few Ladies, and fewer Lords, ever enjoyed that
distinction. After her 1st husband's death, she married
Field-Marchal Sir George Howard.

The hill above Stepleton.

-2-

every minute. I cannot remain with you very long even
if we escape flagrant persecution. Return, I must - for
the grand Ball at Devonshire House the 21st. All London,
the most curious varieties of
notwithstanding ten thousand malevolent insinuations, is
at my feet and all Misses in array whenever I show myself.
There is a general rising the moment I put one foot before
the author in a dancing attitude and of a mounting on
chairs and tables to get a glimpse of my evolutions. If
I promise to sing at such or such a place on such or such
a night - the rage and intriguing to be of the party is
most truly ridiculous. Our holy Aunt - to her utter
discomfiture, for she predicted my star was on the wane,
saw me at the zenith of this sort of glory last Saturday
at Marlborough House - where I contrived by dance, and
by song, and by frolic to produce a vivid sensation, and
made those laugh, who looked as if they had never laughed
before in their lives - and those who were naturally
given to a laughing mood laugh doubly. It was an
animatrd scene, and the Duke who is growing extremely
partial to me, seemed to enjoy it - not so her Grace the
Duchess whose serene and stately composure appeared to be
a little ruffled - but old Bedford was much amused at the
noisy tumult which had broken in upon the long established
etiquette of these whispering galleries. The more I
continued vaulting and pirouetting and mimicking this
singer and t'other - the less willing, of course, the
company were to go away. Many began to show evident
symptons of a wish to be asked to sup - no easy matter
without a repetition of the Loaves and Fishes miracle.
However, at length a scanty collation consisting chiefly
of/

An interlineation in pencil in book

-3-

of sallads, crayfish, cold pastry and slices of french
pie made its reluctant appearance. Such cool,
parsimonious fare did not suit me. The Duke saw that
it did not and beckoning me most graciously into a snug
little room with a cheerful fire - we sat down exclusive-
ly and en famille to a very warm and very comfortable
repast. These were pleasant moments full of excitement
and busy life - but what are moments such as they
compared to those more fortunate retired hours we
passed at Fonthill immured in the Turkish chamber -
when joy thrilled in every vein and every glance we
cast at the vaulted ceiling, glowing with saffron light,
reminded us of the subterranean retreat of the princess
of the Isle of Ebony in the tale of the 3 Calenders
and induced us, like that victim of ruthless jealousy,
to run every risk sooner than renounce our present
happiness."(1)

22 March 1782.

I danced till six this morning in the midst of festoons,
glittering lustres, painted cupids and garlands of roses.
All our fine butterflies displayed their gayest colours -
jewels, as in duty bound, sparkled on every side. The Prince,
brighter than sun-shine, cast a brilliant gleam where ever
more graceful, more insinuating.
he moved. I never saw him in a livelier or kindlier mood,
To me in particular he was graciousness personified. So
benign am example was sure to be followed and it became the
rage to bestow upon my dress, and my dancing, and all I did,
and all I said - the most wildly extravagant encomiums.
In the choice of a partner I really was most fortunate.
Lady C. S. fell to my share the best part of the evening.
Many fair damsels and their scheming conductresses followed
us with scrutinizing eyes. Lady G. scowled formidably.
You may easily guess why. George was there, looking forlorn
and miserable. Sophia had not been asked. You may also
easily guess why. Lady Melbourne's host of admirers were
uncommonly numerous - but for my part, I did not add to the
number. I dont like these full bosomed, large elbowed Junos
better than you do. They may be divinities in Olympus for
awught I know to the contrary, but here upon earth it is only
in the dairy that they hold a very high rank in my estimation.
In our prime cotillon this potent Lady entangled her feet
in her furbelloes and flounces - but kept dancing on as
intrepidly as a tom boyish school girl skipping over a rope.
Had/

x We know what swarms of flatterers a grand reputation for
riches has always engendered - and as at this period I had
the honour of passing for "England's wealthiest son", the
exaggerated praise I received may be easily accounted for.

-2-

Had you been there, I should have enjoyed the capital effect
of these hoydenings for I know you would have enjoyed it, but
without you - happen what may - lively or sad, solemn or
ridiculous, all the many coloured changes in short of this
fitful existence, for me there can be no enjoyment.

April 5 1782.

At length - after moving Heaven and Earth and one
would almost think the powers beneath it - Lady Craven
has succeeded in obtaining the loan of Queensbury House
for the performance of her Pastoral - the words - a
farrago of her Ladyships - the music a farrago of
mine - our actors and actresses - singers and songstresses
are all in their teens without any exception - Burton
and Bertoni are drilling them apace - under a special
commission from me. The "spectacle" in the last scene
will be "ravissant" - not less than twenty or thirty
blooming girls and boys appearing together at one time
on the stage.

Would you believe it - for a long while our usually
indulgent friend the dapper Dickie run quite rusty - and
kicked at the idea of having his palazzo pulled to pieces.
This was prophetic as it turned out, for we are all at
work clearing away partitions and making (sic) as thick
a dust as ever was raised by coaches and phaetons on the
grand day of Epsom and Ascot. Heavens, thought I, how
the old Duchess would rave could she cast a glance from
below at our attack on her gallery. How tremendously
would her mob-capped satellites - inexorable as the
destinies - ply their besoms to sweep us out. I really
shudder to think of it, never forgetting the scene at
Amesbury I have so often told you of - when she kept
brandishing over my head a red-hot poker exclaiming I
will be obeyed as its fit I should.

"In this sublunary sphere none can answer for changes.
A power as determined as her grace now rules within her
palace/

-2-

palace. Lady Craven is doing exactly what seemeth best in her fine large eyes and I am seconding her delicious little acts of despotism with a willing spirit. Barthelemon leads our band and manages our chorus and a nice chorus it is, composed of his wife, his eldest well taught brat and seven or eight stray choiristers from Westminster and the Chapel royal.

Our "Noblesse" though they cut a delightful figure on the stage and open their coral lips very plausibly, are not in reality required to sing - no - no - the efficient chorus is behind the scenes enveloped in mystery. Henry Fitzroy is our principal singer - by far the handsomest looking specimen of King Charles's breed I am acquainted with - your silken eared favourite not excepted. He sings from the heart in a delightful contralto and thanks to our beloved Bertoni has caught already some of those bewitching appoggiaturas which were probably in high vogue at the Opera of Sybaris.

Our prima donna - Miss Fawkener - (the daughter of a once most fashionable Miss Ashe) has real talent, which is more than I can say of several others, who shall, and deserve to be nameless, and who are O ye Gods - how right entirely hum-drum. One of these Dowdies begins x opens (sic) the opera with a song about twirling a wheel - of my composition alas! - but of which I am ashamed most heartily.

X: Elizabeth, Miss Craven & Dan.

X Dowdy the 1st) Miss Craven, married a Mr. Maddocks.
Dowdy the 2nd - Ld. Sefton.

"Sometimes, even calumny has its uses. We may be thankful to this viperish power for our Queensbury House Opera. Had it not been for spiteful old stories revived, and new ones disseminated, Lady Craven would never have made such perseverant exertions to set up her gem of a theatre. She thought, and wisely too, that the eagerness to get invited would dispel a certain film of shiness which was beginning to creep over fashionable faces at her approach. The scheme has succeeded to a miracle - and every body is begging and beseeching to gain admittance to our rehearsals. The starchest of the starch are fast relaxing into complacency and the wisest of the wise are foolish enough to stoop down to all sorts of petty manoeuvres to curry an invitation. Nothing more curious than to observe the cordiality with which Lady Craven is now greeted. You cannot imagine how many "potent, grave and reverend seignors" are on the "qui vive" to witness this charming expansion of buds and blossoms. The Chancellor - for one - comes to us every night. You ask whether your friend Lady Charles's first born is one of our actors? He certainly is (the worst luck as people say in the country) for Henderson who has most kindly and condescendingly taken upon himself the task of dis-awkward-ising our raw actors cannot communicate to this un-hopeful youth one spark of the true spirit. Though the d---l a note can he sing, he is so prematurely devoted to heavy music that I verily believe he has no higher ambition in this world than that of becoming a good, plain substantial organist for which lofty post breadth of/

-2-

of thumb and ponderosity of foot admirably qualify
him. Burton and he are become sworn brothers, but
Bertoni keeps aloof, taking pinches of snuff in his
quiet way, and muttering blasphemies in an under tone
against Handel. Pacchierotti is in high good humour,
assisting the "maestro" in giving lessons to H. Fitzroy
and Miss Fawkener, - and Barthelemon constant to his
post, but you must not imagine that all our paths are
those of pleasantness and peace. We have now and
then very troublesome rivalries - and have had a good
deal of plague about the Figurantes. Gallini, to whom
we applied in the first instance, and who promised to
do all we wished - came to me this morning to say that
for his part he wished to do nothing at all - it might
interfere with opera rights, dancing rooms and this and
that and t'other. Baffled in this quarter, in a
propitious hour we invoked the assistance of Cosway -
who instead of having recourse to the faded exotics of
the Haymarket went straight to Drury Lane, and there
from amongst the goodly company of sylphs and fairies
selected a bouquet that I think you would style divine.
The fairest rose of all, however, he could not succeed
in placing within our nose-gay - for just as terms were
agreed to by a smiling uncle, a crabbed, austere mother
intervened, and overset them completely - mighty
primitive sort of dame, it seems, who said with a
decided snarl that she did not like even the sound
of Queensbury House - she knew its proprietor too well
and had great fears that Lady Craven herself was but a
poor patroness of strict morality. Her child should
not/

-3-

not go - not she.- Theres impudence for you. What
say you to that? The extreme gravity, solemnity and
above all delicacy with which the charge d'affaires
conveyed this sharp, puritanical refusal to the person
of all others it most concerned - to the calumniated
Lady Patroness in propria persona - was admirable. O
that you had witnessed it !" ( )

The clock is striking five - I am but just returned
from Charles St., where we had a prodigiously gay supper,
(quite an orgy), after the Innocents (one excepted) had
been prudently dismissed to their couches. The morning
is grey and showery - a low murmuring wind would fain
lull me to sleep, but it cannot. The violent excitement
of my spirits will not allow me to take what is vulgarly
called rest. Your letter is lying on my table. I will
open it. I will answer it by the light of expiring
tapers and give you a full account of our last nights
proceedings at Queensbury House. Good God - Louisa -
what do you tell me? What then is become of your
mouthmaking consciencious Brother? That strange com-
pound of squeamishness and intrepidity, of pulling
scruples and rampant manhood. What possessed him
t'other night at the opera? Was it a freak of jealousy
or a fit of remorse? All on a sudden, during the
conflagration of Armidas palace he grew wild and raving
wished the whole theatre in flames and Sophia herself
expiring in the ruins. What does this most vehement
out-break portend? We are much happier at our humble
theatre. Our blooming actors and actresses are not
yet torn by the fury passions: their youthful bosoms
are still unagitated, though, I must needs confess,
Lady C. is doing her utmost to impart a few glowing
ideas to some of our fine, tall Innocents, which, it
is just possible, may have been unknown to them before.
Last evening we were lighted up in style and had "provu
generale". I must send you a little "apperçu" of the
company as I know it will make you smile. Talk of the
ark indeed'. Never believe that sacred vessel sheltered
half/

He had flown off from Sophia, leaving a pious and
sentimental letter behind - but he soon returned.

i.e. Sophia Huson, Ithaca
brack.

7

-2-

half so incongruous an assemblage of curious animals
as our profane little theatre. Here were to be seen
at one and the same moment, nay on one and the same
bench - H.R.H. of Cumberland rattling away like a
~~Markham (in pencil)~~
Dice-box - the Arch-bishop of York sitting next to
Dicky Cosway, the Chancellor listening superciliously
to Dog-Jennings, Dr. Burney worshipping Lord North,
who laughed incessantly, Sir Joshua holding out his
trumpet to Parson Este and parson Este his hand to a
stupid loon, whose name I took no pains to discover.
Nearer the stage were marshalled a formidable array
of starch old maids, pattern wives, exemplary matrons
and gambling dowagers - there too peeped out from
between a mass of brocade and velvet our good old
friend Dr. Maty looking, you know, like the French
Pastry Cook in Hogarth's march to Finchley. Dr.
Turton looking like himself, that is to say perfectly
like a gentleman, and Giardini as if his infernal
Patroness had just given him a hearty drubbing - and
as close as they could stick themselves to the
orchestra - three or four Baboonical Elders - not
quite so prying and ardent, perhaps, as those we
read of in the book of Daniel, but pretty nearly so.
To the right and left of this edifying group -
jumbled together in apparently inextricable confusion -
sat or stood - Lord Huntingdon in his velvet coat
(the image of the monkey who had seen the world in one of
the prints to an old edition of Guy's fables). Lord
Lothian/

-3-

Lothian frizzled out and furbished up to the very top
of the mode, pink and white Jerningham, yellow sallow
Jekyll - Charles Fox, - Tommy Onslow, dwarfish Lady
Newhaven, resolute Lady Salisbury, still more deter-
mined Mrs. Sturt, commanding Lady Melbourne, glorious
Lady Beauchamp, scarlet Lady Archer, and fifty more
of all sorts, sizes, and complexions, but all _good
company_ according to the received acceptation of the
term - and such as no uninspired seer could ever
have predicted the gathering together under Lady
Cravens banners. The attendance of so rare and
dignified a congregation exilerated her frolic
Ladyship beyond bounds. I never saw her in such
triumphant spirits. A finale in which the words -
Listen to the rill afar -
Hark - the chime from yonder tower -
Lo - the conscious evening star
Warns the lovers to their bower -
sung by our efficient chorus in the most perfect tune
and feeling manner - seemed to smooth her fair brow
so blandly that she even forgave the liberty I had
taken in writing not only the music but the words to
this part of the pastoral. I wish I had shaken off
lasiness and written the whole. When you recollect
her farce called the silver tankard and conceive that
this same pastoral - although not _half_ so vulgar is
ten times more insipid, you will not be surprised at
my/

① Where ever any thing very smart or lively was going
forwards either in public or private arrangements he
was sure to be of the party. Not a great many years
after our Q.H. entertainments, he blazed forth at one
of the Powderham masquerades in the character of His
Satanic Majesty. Some wag or other (perhaps himself)
to commemorate the circumstate wrote the following
epigram
> Say was our fete or good or evil
> The ladies all were mute
> His Lordship played the lute,
> And Lawyer Jekyll played the Devil.

② Lord Lyttelton used to say she gave him the idea of a
drunken pea-cock.

-4-

my fits of impatience whilst adapting music to such
lackadaisical trumpery. Dont imagine I am much
better pleased with my part of the performance than
with that of her Ladyship. Not a single air do I
think worth sending you. Lady Clarges, with one of
her arch looks, told me fairly I did not shine -
however when she heard the finale she exclaimed Thank
God! - at last you have made a good end - and now I
have told you all that passed at our dressed rehearsal
worth noting down - and now the sun casts a brilliant
ray for the clouds have all dissipated. Instead of
putting my feet into bed they shall enter my stirrups.
I must inhale the morning freshness, and gallop to
Harrow as fast as my fleetest horse can carry me.
Tomorrow our Opera begins in right earnest. Tomorrow
the whole town will rush in upon us. Tomorrow - ten
to one - I shall be suffocated."

On the following night, the first performance proper took place.

17th April.

"As I foretold, the heat was _intolerable_ - and the
congregation, which had received an immense addition
of simpering fools, false connoiseurs, and consequential
block-heads - still _more_ so - the "spectacle" in itself
turned out even more charming than I expected. The
children were enchantingly well dressed - in the best
and that is to say the simplest taste. Among the
Figurantes were some of the most nymph-like etherial
creatures you ever beheld - pale and interesting - for
I entered a strong protest against rouge, and as I
happen to act a very essential part in the drama, namely
that of pay-master general - (my lord Pôt au feu) - my
remonstrances/

-5-

remonstrances were strictly attended to. Some indiscreet,
gloating stares from the satirical part of the audience
covered many lovely cheeks with blushes. — The effect of
this tender colouring — these evanescent tints — was
enchanting. How you would have understood and admired
it! How you would have enjoyed the perspective of the
stage at that moment when it presented a living parterre —
in which the rose and the smooth glossy lily were blended!
Bertoni, who presided at the harpsichord often stole a
moment to gaze, and Pacchierotti, who has the quickest
perception in the world of the beautiful was so enraptured
that he could not resist going behind the scenes and
throwing in a few chords as a second to Madame Barthelemon
in the finale. They were absolutely electrical. — "Lo
the conscious evening star" his favourite passage consists
of merely a few bars which pass away as rapidly as the
reflection of the globe of the moon I saw t'other night
in a telescope, but the impression they left behind was
lasting and most remarkable. Little did I think, when
composing this passage, that the expression Pacchierotti
lent to it would have sunk into my heart so deeply and
cause your image to rise before me with such distinctness
that I lost sight of every other. The theatre and all
its accompaniment — the actors, the choristers, the
audience seemed dissolving into mist and vapour. My
thoughts were so entirely absorbed in melancholy
reflections upon your absence and your languid health
that I hid my face in my hands and wept; — but even this
passionate effusion did not relieve me. Telling Lady
Craven that I was taken suddenly ill, a truth to which
my/

Don't you remember telling me last year how much you
were pleased with Charles Greviles house, its finely
proportioned rooms with their low grecian chimney pieces
formed of real antique friezes, and the unlimited view
it commands over green fields, Harrow on one side, Hampstead
on the other - well I have purchased this smiling well
ventilated abode, and the more I examine it, the better I
am contented with my bargain. With a few Watts touches
a bust here and a vase there it will become thoroughly
classical. The arrival of my caravans from Fonthill laden
with furniture and superfluities of all kinds has already
made quite a stir in the neighbourhood. Madam Montagu,
who has just finished her palace which goes slanting, you
know, across a corner of the square desires me to name a
day for meeting at dinner certain "Savii grandi" whom she
has promised to introduce to me. You may easily suppose
I could have dispensed with the honour not being at all
given to dining out - but what is this honour in comparison
with the one I received a week ago and accepted yesterday
from another neighbour, a much more extraordinary Lady than
Madam Montagu - no less a personage, in short, than the
Countess of Home, known amongst all the Irish chair-men and
riff-raff of the metropolis by the name, style and title
of Queen of Hell. As her infernal majesty happens to have
immense possessions not only - as of course - in the realms
below, but in the Island of Jamaica which some think next
door to them, she took it into her supremely excentric head
that a west Indian potentate I ought to receive distinguished
homage. Aware of my musical propensities she determined
to celebrate my accession to Portman Square by a sumptuous
dinner and a concert of equal magnificence. Last evening
it took place, and you never beheld so splendidly heterogeneous
a repast as the dinner, nor ever heard such a confounded
jumble of good and bad music - such a "charivari" in fact as
the/

-2-

the concert - poor, old Giardini, who for the punishment
of his youthful sins I presume, - is become her Maestro
di capella went fairly distracted - not without cause as
you shall hear, for during her morning round she happened
to meet with a brace of tall athletic negros in flaming
laced jackets tooting away on the french horn as loud as
their lungs permitted. By God - exclaimed her majesty
(she swears like a trooper) you play delightfully - get
up behind the carriage and come home with me - you shall
perform to night at my concert. Here - said she to the
hapless Maestro, who was waiting at the street door to
hand her in - - here - my fine fidler, I have brought
you a great acquisition. These glorious fellows have
quite enchanted me - I never heard horns blown with so
capital a gusto in all the days of my life. My-Lady,
answered the Maestro, casting a very suspicious glance
at the sable pair, I doubt whether they play in score,
persons of their sort seldom do. Never mind that
replied the despotic Countess - put them into the
Orchestra - they shall chime in. Happily for us all
having been made extremely welcome below stairs they
slept most of the time nodding and bobbing their wooley
pates about in so ludicrous a manner that I was convulsed
with laughter. However the moment her Ladyship approached
I was just able to assume a civilized expression of
countenance, and praised these charming examples of
original talent as warmly as their patroness could
possibly desire. There, said the Countess, turning
round triumphantly to the rueful Maestro, Did not I tell
you so - Mr. Beckford is a real judge.

De Rome ce 6 10bre. 1780.

J'ai recu votre charmante lettre de Bath ma chère Cousine avec un transport des plus vifs. Vous ne scauriez croire l'intérêt que je prends a votre santé ainsi faites moi dire bientôt que-je je vous supplie que vous vous portez mieux. Bath m'a toujours ennuyé mortellement, et comme j'ai l'honneur de penser a peu pres dans votre gout - je ne suis guère étonné qu'elle produit sur vous le même effet. Vous scavez comme j'abhore ces gros Nigots qui font les jolis cœurs dans les contredanses - et ces braves lourdauts de campagne qui peuvent être de fort honnêtes gens, mais qui ne sont pas moins revoltants selon mes idées. Je reviens actuellement de Naples, où j'ai passé des heures charmantes chez ma cousine d'Harriette qui touche le clavecin avec un esprit céleste - après avoir resté une quinzaine avec elle a Caserte - a faire de la Musique - a rever comme mes Amis les Auteurs des contes Arabes - et a courir les Montagnes et les prairies tapissées de Mirthes - la fantaisie m'a puis de me rendre a Venise, pour entendre encore une fois notre cher Pacchierotti - me voici donc a Rome sur le chemin du grand Opera Venitien/

Venitien - la Tête farcie de Finales et de Tercettos.

[Five words in Louisa's hand obliterated] [Ah si je pouvez (sic, lege pouvois)] vous transporter ici [pour vous montrer notre deleted] [sous ce] beau Ciel azure [six words obliterated] vous faire entendre la véritable musique Italienne - car chez nous on ne fait que marmoter quelques [one word obliterated] paroles [estropies] entre les Dents - avec un accent détestable, et une froideur qui me pétrifie.

L'enthousiasme [heroique, la pompe sublime] que le Pacchierotti met dans son recitatif - quand il debite sur un Théatre d'Italie [les belles tirades de l'olimpiade et du Quinto Fabio] ne peut pas se [figurer ailleur.][c'est quelque chose de si touchant, de si passione qu'on deleted and half a line following obliterated] Notre climat - et nos facons peu encourageantes lui ont fait une telle impression que je peut très bien dire que vous ne l'avez jamais entendu. Je [three words obliterated] [de vous presenter deleted] le Chœur que j'ai compose pour le conversatoire des Mandicants a Venise, mais Dieu sait quand je serai de retour - l'Italie est bien amable, et après la semaine sainte - je gage bien que j'aurai envie d'y passer une année profane. Au Printemps je compte d'être a Portici chez les Hamiltons qui me donnent un appartement delicieux/

delicieux - ma chère Mère n'aimera pas trop ce petit
plan là - mais que faire - les belles vues de Naples
sont si seduisantes - les Coteaux qui dominent sur la
Mer - la promenade de Pansilippo - l'Isle de d'Ischio-
la romanesque Capree - les environs de Bai - enfin tout
ce Pays de délices auquel il faudra m'arracher - je sents
bien que je n'aurai guère la force - pourtant - je
devrois revenir - et vous - et le petit Courtenay -
et Pacchierotti même - seront tous en Angleterre.

Je crois qu'il faut faire des efforts, et tacher de
rompre les liens Magiques qui me retiennent et bien -
dans le Printemps j'irai lire mes destinees chez
Mademoiselle de Cumo - qui jadis recevoit les gens
fort poliment dans son Antre - peutetre ferai je
quelque petit tour dans les Enfers sous sa protection.
Proserpine chantoit autrefois à ce que je me suis
laisse dire - et les Furies avoient aussi un fort joli
haute contre - demandez à notre Sibille Angloise Ly. M:
Duncan quand je dois vous revoir - car je doute fort que
sa Perruque ne soit oraculaire. Apparamment vous êtes
dans ce moment a Stepleton vis-a-vis de cette [terrible
deleted] Montagne au nom [Hod] barbare, [A line
obliterated] la prison [peutetre] de quelque geant[des
temps/

II A

It is a sad thing that I cannot see you every day and
every hour - since you are the only person (yes let me
repeat it once more) to whom I can communicate my feelings
or to whom I can disclose the strange wayward passion
which throbs this very instant in my bosom. All those
who surround me - view me pale - faultering - dejected -
desponding - they know not why. What is the matter with
you -, cries my Mother - tell me for Heaven's sake what
oppresses you? Have you not every circumstance, every
means of happiness in your power - tell me what I can
procure for your amusement - shall I instantly command
a glittering equipage - shall I invite company - or will
you accept the numerous invitations which lie scattered
upon your table - speak - only - speak your wishes and
they shall be gratified. Indeed - this is too much -
not all my kindness - my prayers or my supplications -
can obtain - one smile - one happy - one contented look -
still - gloom - and the deepest dejection possess your
countenance and spite of my intreaties maintain their
supremacy. Yes tis decided. They rule and I bow
beneath their Empire. If one instant they slacken the
severe reins of government - my imaginations bounds, not
during these her holiday moments, - over the woods of
Greece and Indian Solitudes but flies to that western
country - that blue river - and variegated shore where
first I beheld the object off all my tenderness - and of
all my present anxiety. That dear Form - which never
fails to haunt me at sunset - ... (two words deleted and
illegible) (I first saw sporting amongst the deer also
deleted) - first appeared in the beams of the Evening
Sun./

39

-2-

Sun. Therefore that moment is become so sacred.
From my infancy I loved it but now I can neither read
nor think of it - without the wildest and most extra-
vagant raptures - nor can I look at a woody landscape
of Claude Lorraine's whose deer are represented amongst
the trees and the whole is suffused with the soft
colours of declining day - without emotion - a faint
vibration - a reflected light - of those very emotions
I felt upon seeing him just in such a scene as I have
sketched. Great power - who created us both how rapid
was the progress of our affection'. Surely we must
have been inseperable friends in some other existence.
We must have doubtless have (sia) shared the happiness
and misery of some other World - or else why did we
experience this sudden Love for each other. Did it
not encrease each hour and when I quitted his native
castle - what expressive melancholy looks were cast
after one down the long avenue - the solemnity of
which was encreased by the dusk - for it was dusk -
when I parted from all my Soul doated on. During the
whole journey that evening no other object filled my
mind. If the thickets between which we pass'd chanced
to rustle - methought it was his steps. Did I hear
voices talking at a distance in the villages - his
accents were distinguished amongst them. If a cottage
door opened and lights glimmered in its windows - his
shadow glanced by - and in defiance of probability was
every where in the same instant. O Heavens - what
conflicts - what unknown sensations tore me fifty
different/

-3-

different ways at once'. What Worlds would I not
have given to have returned - and how often did I
thank the darkness which veiled my confusion. The
lateless of the hour excused my indifference to any
subject Mr... started. Happily I was supposed
asleep. Happily I say - it was assuredly fortunate
Had I conversed the secret of my heart must have been
betrayed - and then what strange notions would this
Love of mine have suggested. Besides in what language
could I have painted my situation [of my breast
deleted]? To have attempted conveying a just idea of
my feelings would have been vain. Every word I had
uttered would have been wrapped in flame. Its ardour
would have scorched the cool texture of dispassionate
argument. Such was my state when I arrived at [EXEKS]
(LIKE superimposed, in another hand). I hurried
to bed - and falling at length asleep a series of
romantic Images haunted my fancy. I seemed stretched
in a dreary cave - across which ran several bubbling
streams - no termination of the Grot was visible -
its roof was lost in obscurity - heaps of cocoa-nuts
were piled - to all appearance around me - so immense
that whole nations I think could never have consumed
them. You ask me perhaps how I saw these wonders -
in so profound and spacious a Grotto - into which no
ray had ever penetrated. Recollect that internal -
visionary light - which illuminates dreams - and your
surprise will cease. I had not long surveyed this
Realm of Darkness and silence before an Angelic Shadow
issued suddenly from the depth of the cavern leading
in its hand the one I love - he flew to me. I sprang
forwards to catch him in my arms. Rest happy said
a thrilling voice - no one shall disturb you for ages.
The/

-4-

The great power - source of all felicity - has abstracted
you from both the multitude of his creatures - as examples
of perpetual tenderness - and has alloted this cave, -
sunk deep in the center of the Earth, for your abode.
Those piles of nuts are destined for your nourishment -
if ye freely renounce the lustre of the Sun for each
other. Our transports proved how entirely we consented.
The shadow vanished - all was still and silent - the form
of my —— alone was luminous - his voice - the only
sound - which echoed thro' out the cavern. I awoke - just
as I stretched out my hand for a nut - and behold no C.
was near. Had I suddenly fallen from a garden of flowers
down a precipice into a troubled sea I could not have
been more disappointed. The next day I travelled on -
from one gay party to another - and heard him repeatedly
mentioned - almost fearing to join in the conversation
which interested me above all others. Twas thus -
disconsolate and unable to taste the charms of the
liveliest societies I pursued my track till the northern
Mountains rose upon the horizon. In their deep
solitudes I ventured to pour forth my complaints - and
have many times told my story to the Lake of Keswick as
I walked on its banks. A month passed away in this
manner. Every morning I discovered some new recess in
the rocks - some rude neglected spot where I might indulge
my reveries and think undisturbed on my dear C. All the
little incidents of the hours I spent with him recurred
to my memory - his exquisite sensibility - the inclinations
he discovered so like my own - his engaging looks - and
unaffected partiality for me - were full in my mind. I
wept/

-5-

wept - I sighed - and growing intolerably restless -
mounted the cliff - and look'd towards London. Twas
there I knew he was - and there I determined from this
moment to transport myself. We set off - the horses
seconded my wishes - and in a few days I found myself
in Town. I entered the house with a beating heart -
my spirits light as air - seemed to forebode some
unexpected pleasure. Nor was I deceived. The most
supreme joy awaited me for my C. was almost the first
person that came out to receive me. A few minutes ...
.... (remainder missing).

[ Slip attached titled thus in Mr. Oliver's writing -
c. 1779. Fragment of Letter. First meeting
with C.]

E1

40

1

I

Paris Jany. 19 1784.

Has the snow intruded upon your soft climate and are
you buried in it? What else can prevent my hearing from you
my beloved Louisa. Tell me, for I drag on a mournful, anxious
existence revived by the assurance of your having recovered
the ennuis and fatigues of your journey to Nice. I have been
here this fortnight - shivering all the dark, bleak day and
suppering out almost every cold and snowy night. At Mde. de
la Vallieresthere are low rooms and tolerable warmth both of
temperature and conversation. La Borde's new house remains
still as damp as a grotto - though he has blazing-fires and
blazing company, cordon bleus and cordons rouges and all sorts
of stars and gingambobs - Swedish Polish and Russian. Madame
de Luynes palace is a perfect glaciere. M. de Brissac's
with its immense gallery (just as the old Due de Villars left
it) - little better - but who can describe the woes at this
season of most of these high places. Such fusty dining rooms
with a cool looking glazy stove in one corner - such lofty
antichambers with no stove at all, and such huge, square,
begilded and be-mirrored salons - with a single chimney peice
and twenty human screens relieving each other in perpetual
succession before it. At the Hotel de la Rochefoucauld
Respects
Freeziology in all shapes (gic) reigns paramount, and not
one atom of comfort or pleasantness is to be met with except
in the D. de Chabot's snug little apartments which are lined
from top to bottom with beautiful cabinet pictures, and exhale
an odour of old japan and spiced rose leaves perfectly
delectable. Monsieur le Due himself is a little too musky
but extremely entertaining and as full of double refined
Versailles chit-chat, verses and epigrams as a richly scented,
embroidered pocket book. Lady Margaret has not had her share
lately of these fragrancies - having been confined a good deal
at/

-2-

at home by a violent swelling which I trust she will get
rid of next June. Often do I cross myself and lifting
my eyes to Heaven exclaim God's will be done - - - - -

Though there is nominally peace in good old England -
the political waves run high, and the ins are out one
month and the outs are in the next, so I do nothing but
elect and re-elect Mr. Kenyon for Hindon - but feel no
vocation as yet to lift up my own voice in the land.

This glaring, flaring, noisy, racketing place, (Lucifers
own metropolis) teems as usual with every sort and kind
of amusement conceivable and inconceivable. The Opera
is in full roar and the Theatre Francais in full strut -
both, were never surpassed in pomposity. The old

Marechals dinner and evening parties are more crowded
than ever with ridiculous English people created for no
other purpose, one might almost imagine, than that of
making those, who have the happiness of fancying themselves
less ridiculous, laugh. Out of what kind of shells or
from what part of our coasts these - odd fish and queer
reptiles - these non-descripts have issued is impossible
for me to tell. Most of their names are as unknown to
me as their persons and to see the perfidious politeness -
the sly looks of scarcely concealed contempt with which
Anthony Storer presented a bevy of them last night at the

Hotel de Biron - was a high treat. He is still the finest
of the fine, and thought it part of that essence to enquire
most earnestly after you and to talk in raptures of the
magic of Fonthill. Few can appreciate the scenes he
launched out upon better than himself, - for he has a
discriminating eye, great refinement and is not only amusing
but/

63

-3-

but amuseable. The business of the Embassy resting
a good deal at this moment upon his shoulders he has
not time to flutter about as gayly and unconcernedly
as he was wont, and is beginning to look sickly and
care-worn very different from that arch expression of
countenance and heedless lively manner with which, you
recall, he kept skipping up and down the innumerable
stairs and gliding along the endless galleries of our
enchanted region - about which he talked a great deal
to much for the repose of my spirit. What he said
recalled the past so vividly that I absolutely abhorred
the present. In the midst of gaiety, splendour and
adulation, for it was the fashion to pay court to me,
a dark cloud of thought rolled over me, and I must have
appeared suddenly transfigured, for he started back and
could not help exclaiming Good God what acute feelings
you possess'. Could I have foreseen their intensity,
never would I have recurred to happy hours which you
appear to think are fleeted away for ever. I understand
myself - from melancholy experience - the corroding sorrow
which the absence of an object - so lovely, so gifted
as her - who I see occupies your thoughts at this moment -
must occasion. He spoke this in a manner and accompanied
by a look which convinced me he felt all he said. He
would have said more. I might also have been tempted
to say more than prudence warranted, but a fresh tide
of company pouring in, we were separated and I was not
sorry for it. I must keep more out of his way in future,
lest he should renew a subject which presses upon my
heart too closely. There is a sacredness about what
I feel towards you - Louisa - that admits of no
participation.

September 8th 1781.

Yesterday, I dined at Wilton, and suffered myself
to be not a little amused by one of Lord Pembroke's
curious parties. Among the oddities he had collected
together, — who should I find but Lord Lothian
buckr Penn'd up in a capital pair of stays with a "soupcor"
of rouge — looking so incomparably droll and talking so
originally that I laughed without moderation and made
others laugh too — till they were fairly exhausted. —
— Yes, my Louisa, we shall meet at Salisbury next
Sunday and attend what I really think *divine* service
in the glorious cathedral shall we not? Don't
disappoint me. I have promised that fido pastore
Benson Earle to take you to hear his new chaunt.
Burton, you know, is most partial to his simple
melodies which breathe, he says, all the juvenile
freshness of Spring. If they do — Heaven be praised
for I feel dried up. A musical dew of this kind would
be most soothing. Let it then fall on our unscientific
hearts and let us thank God for the mercy.

V.M

Wimpole St., Novr. 19
1781.

Last night the Opera began. Cybele in her appropriately turretted peruque sat bolt upright in my box to the positive terror of many beholders. Atys was received with transport, and sang "Reccagli quel acciaro" with a grandeur of expression that Capparelli, himself in the days of his greatest triumphs might have envied. The Goddess bitterly regretted your absence, and abused the auld Hag with a vengeance for having dared to abuse you - which it appears she did without mercy.

Music, I need not tell you, is going on in my dominions more enchantingly than ever. Bertoni is with me from noon till night - and I shall sing you certain airs when we meet that would dissolve the manliest soul in languid tenderness - that very style which drew down upon Pacchierotti last year at Venice all the thunders of the Gassone. Are you not ashamed said the stern, old, Patriarch of corrupting our youth in this manner with your childish, effeminate, love-sick warblings - "questo canto lascivo e putanino".

He was but too much in the right Louisa. Few more than ourselves have felt the influence of these corrupting melodies - the path into which they have enticed us glows with a genial warmth and is decked with flowers, but cold and dessolate may prove the desert to which it leads. We are surrounded with dangers. I see them. I know they exist, still we revel on in the sunshine as if no cloud could intervene. I cannot yet ascertain the exact nature of the plots against us which are hatching at this moment. From the loud cackling I hear/

-2-

hear, both Aunt F. and Aunt E. are growing uncommonly
broody. Having joined the Despoina at Bath, a dreadful
tempest may be expected from that quarter. I seem
already to hear the shrill pipings and whistlings of an
approaching storm, and long to hide my head in your bosom.
Let us seize the planetary hour, my beloved Louisa. Let
us enjoy uncontrolled delights before they are declared
High Treason by an act of Peter and his allies in parlia-
ment assembled. Let me conjure you - leave no scheme
untried, no art unpractised to gain permission for coming
to Fonthill, where every preparation is going forwards
that our much admired and admiring Loutherbourg (for he
doats upon us both) in all the wildness of his fervid
imagination can suggest or contrive to give our favourite
apartments the strangeness and novelty of a fairy world.
This very morning he sets forth with his attendent genii,
and swears by one of his principal Imps (who bears, by the
bye, a most fearful cabalistic name) that in less than
three weeks from time present a mysterious something -
a something that eye has not yet seen or heart of man
conceived, shall be created (his own unhallowed words)
purposely for our especial delight and recreation.

Unsigned. No address.

In pencil in Beckford's handwriting.

Rome - ce 6 X vre.

1780.

Me voici a Rome sur le chemin du grand opera Venitien. La tete
(fureoit) de finales et de terfettos. Ah si je pouvez vous
transporter ici - sous ce beau ciel azure vous faire entendre
la veritable musique Italienne'. Les motets de Leo - les choeurs
de Palestrine'. Chez nous, on ne fait qu' marmotter quelques
paroles estronges entre les dents avec un accent destestable
et une froideur qui me petrifie. L'entousiasme heroique, la
pompe sublime que Pacchiarotti met dans son recitatif quand
il debite sur un Theatre d'Italie les belles tirades de
l'olimpiade et du Quinto Fabio - ne se rencontre pas ailleur.
Notre climat et nos facons peu encourageantes lui ont fait
une impression si triste que j'ose hardiment vous dire que
vous ne 'avez jamais entendu. Je vous montrerez ce qu'il
vient de me deccrire sur nos glacialites - a mon retour, mais
Dieu sait quand ce retour s'accomplira. Je ne ti'arracherai
pas facilement de ce pays enchaîns. L'Italie est bien
aimable, et apres la semaine sainte je gage bien que j'aurai
envie d'y passer une année profane. Au printemps j'irai lire
mes destinees chez mademoiselle de Crimex[1] - qui jadis recevez
les gens tres poliment dans son antre - - peutre ferai je
une tournee dans les enfers sous sa protection. Proserpine
chantait autre fois - je me mis laisse dire - et les furies aussi
dans leur terrible genre - temoin les imitations de leur
glarissant ramage - au grand opera d'Athenes. Demandez
a notre Sibylle anglaise Ly. M. Duncan quand je dois vous
revoir. Sa perruque gorgonique est assurement oraculaire -
mais peutre vous etes dans ce moment a Stepleton vis a vis
de/

① Written in pencil in a different hand.

-2-

de cette grosse colline au nom barbare la prison sans
doute de quelque geant des temps merveilleux. Ne l'entendez
vous jamais *gouffler*? Entre autres objets formidables
voyez vous quelquefois l'eminentissime Cardinal Bashua
Elissi. Mes complimens a son nez couleur de pourpre.

*Hod

* A portly old maid neice to my
father and aunt to Charles R.
Ellis Ld. Seaford.

(I have shown the asterisks and notes exactly as
they appear in the original. It is difficult to
distinguish the proper association, although I
think "Hod" should be read in connection with the
asterisk on the top line). Yes, see Louisa's copy.

vi D

Stapleton.

"Your account of B — 's bold and hardy under-
taking in endeavouring to supplant M — in your affections
has entertained me so excessively that I have frequently
caught myself bursting out a laughing whilst alone at the
idea of it. My love — suppose I was to attack your spouse
and try what I can make of him. I promise you a true and
faithful account of all our proceedings and to when I have done
with him return him upon your hands not one bit the worse
for wear. Is your good man apt to be in love? or must
I expect much trouble in attempting to move his flinty
heart. That of my spouse is like tender — the breath of
a pretty woman will make it blaze up into a flame. You
are perfectly in the right to keep well with him — tho' I
know him to be perfectly honourable — yet there is no
saying what an exasperated — discreed lover will not do.
I asked him slily the other day what was his opinion of
you. He told me he thought you very handsome — but vain —
and likely to give your family a great deal of trouble.
I fired at this and took your part most strenuously — saying
that few women who possessed your uncommon attractions but
what would be much more vain — and that I knew your principles
to be perfectly good — that your husband was known and
allowed to be of a jealous temper and very difficult to
please — and therefore your task was much more difficult
than that of other women — and that your having hitherto
escaped as you have done so perfectly free from censure was
a certain sign you did not deserve it — as a pretty woman
had always enemies enough of her own sex who would take
hold of the smallest handle for reproach rather than forego
the/

-2-

the pleasure of scandal. Wasn't this a most glorious
sermon. He listened to it very attentively, owned the
truth of it (as it is literally true that your conduct
has hitherto passed uncensured except by that little
fool Lady Mary) but still said that I should not form too
hasty a judgment but wait to the end of the chanter. If
you had listened to his soft tale of love he would have
thought you the most virtuous of women. You need not
however mind what he says. It never can do you any
harm. As for what he thinks - that I suppose is
perfectly indifferent to you. I am glad you told little
Cumberland of it. It must have been highly entertaining
to him. My Love - what amuses me is that he always
pitches upon my friends to exert the influence of his
charms. He attacked Grace Ker now Mrs. Seymour. She
told me of it as you do - and we laughed together most
heartily. I really believe I am the only woman in the
world who is the confidante of her husband's mistresses,
and what is more likes them the better for being so.

Adieu my Love for the present. I must go and dress.
I dine with some fox-hunting savages - and having nothing
better to do shall make myself as agreeable to them as
possible. I fancy however I shall soon be tired of that
diversion - for I am too weak and out of spirits to attend
to their noisy rioutous mirth. I shall sit snug in a
corner and think of William.

Monday.

My Love - tho' it is almost dinner time I am but just out
of bed. I am so lone and sick. I can scarcely hold the
pen. The stupid toads I dined with yesterday have tired
me/

-3-

me to death. I am rejoyced at the pleasure you seem to
experience and sincerely hope it will last this long while
undisturbed and undiscovered. I long to know how you got to
Saltt-Hill and how long you stayed there. I suppose you
could not afford to spend much time there the next morning -
as your delay might have given cause of suspicion to the
caro sposo. How did you manage about your maid ? Will she
not think you suspect something on seeing M —— there
without any apparent business? However that may be I do
not dread her much. She seems to be good humoured and to
have a real regard for you. Beckford had a letter from
Lord George Lenox wherein he mentions having paired off
with M —— at the House of Commons for last Thursday. I
could not help smiling knowing so well what was his business.
Take care of that little Devil Lady Stawell. I know not
why, but I have ever had an antipathy to her — and shall be
heartily rejoyced to see her disappointed in her schemes
upon M —. Accept a place in her box whenever she offers
it by all means. She will be vexed to the soul on finding
that she serves only as a foil to a woman so much prettier
than herself and to see all the mens attentions directed to
you — and herself neglected. I am not ill tempered — yet
I love of all things to see such a creature mortified — and
I will own to you that I have frequently had the coquetry to
endeavour to draw off the attention of men from women of her
sort, merely for the sake of enjoying their spite and envy.
It is no difficult matter if one is tolerably handsome and
agreable — and if one is not better employed entertaining
enough — but these ideas seldom enter the head of a person
who is really in love — as their only delight is pleasing
the/

-4-

the object of their affections - and if you do receive
the homage of others make a sacrifice of it to them. I
always tell William every word the men say to me - and he
does the same by me - by which means jealousy is entirely
banished from our commerce and tho' we saw thousands
 fluttering like moths around us - we should be perfectly
secure and free from that destructive passion. How
happy you are you little Devil. You see him every day
and here am I banished from what I love best and immured
in a place which I detest. Talk to him of me sometimes
and tell him how I love him and write about him. Adieu
my sweet Sophia. I am so stupid I cannot write another
word - but be assured I love you most sincerely.

Send me some more Franks.

(Unsigned).

(No address).

(Endorsed) - Dr. William

I have just read this and send it
you to feast upon. It will be better than dinner if I
guess right. (In pencil) - Mrs. Musters.

Fonthill July 6th 1781.

[Till] your letter [arrived], my dear Louisa, I was trembling lest you were relapsed into your former languid state and (had) endured the ennuis of Tunbridge in vain.

Forlvorn
Common place as it is in prospect [compared with your favourite rocks near Spa], I shall bless its waters if they but send you one half hour sooner to Fonthill. All that surrounds me here is [calm and] silent. My [arbitrary mother not having yet made her redoubted appearance] I stray uninterrupted from morn till eve and feel a kind of melancholy pleasure in being at liberty to pronounce your [dear] name [aloud in the free uncontaminated air, unreproached and unpersecuted]. The weather is reckoned marvellously fine for this country, yet - I ardently long after the Neapolitain breezes, and regret every day [more and more] the fragrant boschetto of Portici, and the thickets around the grotto of Pausilippo, where [I used to pass hour after hour in trying to discover the entrance of long hidden subterranean palaces]. My rambles, at present, would not be charmless - could I but take them under the genial influence of a still softer sky. This morning, however, I basked most complacently in the sun-shine stretched out my whole listless length along the side of a hill - purpled with thyme. When shall I see you again moving about the slopes in all the flow of your beautiful antique drapery? Write to me Louisa even when you have nothing new to communicate. Were I not every day to hear from you I believe - without exaggeration - I could most willingly lay myself down - once for all - and die. There are moments already when I think myself on the utmost verge of this/

as if some secret venom was slowly corroding
the spring of her life away

Fonthill July 14th 1781

Your Letter came [very **deleted in pencil**] [most] opportunely to revive my spirits [which were not a little depressed by lowering skies and continual storms **deleted partly in ink and partly in pencil**] [sunk to the lowest ebb by my last intelligence from Mde de Rosenberg]. It found me alone in the Saloon - lulled by the [**two words obliterated**] [plaintive diapasons] of the Organ into a sort of slumber during which a [**long deleted in pencil**] [visionary] train of melancholly Images - seemed faintly to skim before my eyes. Burton is the author of that fine poem which, as the late Mr. recording artist was clearly working a mighty Genius exactly formed for musical incantations, his away leading the brother to the hand with a still deeper sorrow embolden on his [but alas - it is not even in his power to rouse me from a state of languid depression]. I cannot prevail [upon **deleted in pencil**] myself to hate Tunbridge - since it gives you [Health tho' it deprives me **deleted in pencil**] of your company. [Note. It would seem that this last sentence was **intended to be entirely deleted**]. July is an endless month in my Calendar - and I am sometimes weak enough to imagine the days lengthened on purpose to **ennui** me. O these long summer evenings how they consume my Soul away. The gleams of a setting Sun - is the very light to pine by. A mournful species of enthusiasm drives me at this hour to the plain which stretches itself out beyond our little woody region of Fonthill. There I ride pensively along and course the shadows which every fleeting cloud casts on the smooth hillocks.

Vex't as I am - I almost wish that our attachments were as trackless as these vapours, - and leaving my horse - try again and again whilst reclined on the slopes of turf to persuade myself that my spirit is as it ought to be in profound repose.

Night/

Note. The writing at the top and the insertions here in **pencil** all in **Buckford's hand** are known as in the original and were briefly draft notes for the incident related more coherently as a note to the finished copy in **Buckford's** hand.

Night comes on - the sheep are quietly penned, but I return
to my fold - as restless and discontented as ever. Adieu -
I am too languid to add any thing but my wishes to hear from
you - [and my desire that you will believe me your most
affectionate William <u>deleted</u>]

Note. Except where otherwise stated, the words enclosed
in square brackets are interlined in Beckford's hand.

Fonthill July 14 1781.

Your letter came most opportunely to revive my spirits -
which were sunk to the lowest ebb by some mournful intelligere
from Made' de Rosenberg: it found me alone in the saloon
lulled by the plaintive diapasons of the organ into a sort
of dreamy slumber during which a succession of melancholy
phantoms seemed faintly to skim before me - the V X. no
longer bold and imperious, but bathed in tears - the M XX.
paler than death itself, leading her brother by the hand
with a still deeper sorrow impressed on his beautiful
countenance. You see what apparitions are sometimes
raised by musical incantation. Burton is a mighty
genius in this "terribile via". His compositions have
a cast of that wildness and energy I used to admire so
much in those of that moon-struck, wayward boy Mozart XXXX
but alas'. it is not even in the highest musical power to
rouse me from my present state of languid depression.
O these long Summer evenings how they consume my soul away'.
The/

X Never shall I forget a scene which took place - most
appropriately one stormy night - at the C. palace. The
Vendramin upbraided me with loving her sister. I told
her I did not, but that my friendship for her brother was
unbounded. She answered with a convulsive gasp Respiro -
I have nothing to do with friendships, but if you dare
return my sisters frantic passion, I will be revenged - and
terribly.

XX She had attempted to remove her husband from this
troublesome world in order to ramble about it unshackled
with me - but by some mismanagement, not unusual in these
cases - had only succeeded in half poisoning herself.

XXX He passed some time at Fonthill, having been engaged
though quite a child - to give me - his junior by 4 or 5
years - lessons of composition.