Letter No. 443. Tuesday, July 29, 1712. Steele
'Sublatam ex oculis Quaerimus invidi.'
Hor.
Camilla to the SPECTATOR.
Venice, July 10, N. S.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
'I Take it extreamly ill, that you do not reckon conspicuous Persons
of your Nation are within your Cognizance, tho' out of the Dominions
of Great Britain. I little thought in the green Years of my Life, that
I should ever call it an Happiness to be out of dear England; but as
I grew to Woman, I found my self less acceptable in Proportion to the
Encrease of my Merit. Their Ears in Italy are so differently formed
from the Make of yours in England, that I never come upon the Stage,
but a general Satisfaction appears in every Countenance of the whole
People. When I dwell upon a Note, I behold all the Men accompanying me
with Heads enclining and falling of their Persons on one Side, as
dying away with me. The Women too do Justice to my Merit, and no
ill-natur'd worthless Creature cries, The vain Thing, when I am rapt
up in the Performance of my Part, and sensibly touched with the Effect
my Voice has upon all who hear me. I live here distinguished as one
whom Nature has been liberal to in a graceful Person, an exalted Mein,
and Heavenly Voice. These Particularities in this strange Country, are
Arguments for Respect and Generosity to her who is possessed of them.
The Italians see a thousand Beauties I am sensible I have no
Pretence to, and abundantly make up to me the Injustice I received in
my own Country, of disallowing me what I really had. The Humour of
Hissing, which you have among you, I do not know any thing of; and
their Applauses are uttered in Sighs, and bearing a Part at the
Cadences of Voice with the Persons who are performing. I am often put
in Mind of those complaisant Lines of my own Countryman, [1] when he
is calling all his Faculties together to hear Arabella;
'Let all be hush'd, each softest Motion cease,
Be ev'ry loud tumultuous Thought at Peace;
And ev'ry ruder Gasp of Breath
Be calm, as in the Arms of Death:
And thou, most fickle, most uneasie Part,
Thou restless Wanderer, my Heart,
Be still; gently, ah! gently leave,
Thou busie, idle Thing, to heave.
Stir not a Pulse: and let my Blood,
That turbulent, unruly Flood,
Be softly staid;
Let me be all but my Attention dead.'
'The whole City of Venice is as still when I am singing, as this
Polite Hearer was to Mrs. Hunt. But when they break that Silence,
did you know the Pleasure I am in, when every Man utters his Applause,
by calling me aloud the Dear Creature, the Angel, the Venus; What
Attitude she moves with!--Hush, she sings again! We have no boistrous
Wits who dare disturb an Audience, and break the publick Peace meerly
to shew they dare. Mr. SPECTATOR, I write this to you thus in Haste,
to tell you I am so very much at ease here, that I know nothing but
Joy; and I will not return, but leave you in England to hiss all
Merit of your own Growth off the Stage. I know, Sir, you were always
my Admirer, and therefore I am yours,
CAMILLA. [2]
P. S. I am ten times better dressed than ever I was in England.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
'The Project in yours of the 11th Instant, of furthering the
Correspondence and Knowledge of that considerable Part of Mankind, the