"Ravenna, March 14. 1820."Enclosed is Dante's Prophecy—Vision—or what not.[69]Where I have left more than one reading (which I have done often), you may adopt that which Gifford, Frere, Rose, and Hobhouse, and others of your Utican Senate think the best or least bad. The preface will explain all that is explicable. These are but the four first cantos: if approved, I will go on."Pray mind in printing; and let some good Italian scholar correct the Italian quotations."Four days ago I was overturned in an open carriage between the river and a steep bank:—wheels dashed to pieces, slight bruises, narrow escape, and all that; but no harm done, though coachman, foot-man, horses, and vehicle, were all mixed together like macaroni. It was owing to bad driving, as I say; but the coachman swears to a start on the part of the horses. We went against a post on the vergeof a steep bank, and capsized. I usually go out of the town in a carriage, and meet the saddle horses at the bridge; it was in going there that we boggled; but I got my ride, as usual, after the accident. They say here it was all owing to St. Antonio of Padua, (serious, I assure you,)—who does thirteen miracles a day,—that worse did not come of it. I have no objection to this being his fourteenth in the four-and-twenty-hours. He presides over overturns and all escapes therefrom, it seems: and they dedicate pictures, &c. to him, as the sailors once did to Neptune, after 'the high Roman fashion.'"Yours, in haste."
"Ravenna, March 14. 1820.
"Enclosed is Dante's Prophecy—Vision—or what not.[69]Where I have left more than one reading (which I have done often), you may adopt that which Gifford, Frere, Rose, and Hobhouse, and others of your Utican Senate think the best or least bad. The preface will explain all that is explicable. These are but the four first cantos: if approved, I will go on.
"Pray mind in printing; and let some good Italian scholar correct the Italian quotations.
"Four days ago I was overturned in an open carriage between the river and a steep bank:—wheels dashed to pieces, slight bruises, narrow escape, and all that; but no harm done, though coachman, foot-man, horses, and vehicle, were all mixed together like macaroni. It was owing to bad driving, as I say; but the coachman swears to a start on the part of the horses. We went against a post on the vergeof a steep bank, and capsized. I usually go out of the town in a carriage, and meet the saddle horses at the bridge; it was in going there that we boggled; but I got my ride, as usual, after the accident. They say here it was all owing to St. Antonio of Padua, (serious, I assure you,)—who does thirteen miracles a day,—that worse did not come of it. I have no objection to this being his fourteenth in the four-and-twenty-hours. He presides over overturns and all escapes therefrom, it seems: and they dedicate pictures, &c. to him, as the sailors once did to Neptune, after 'the high Roman fashion.'
"Yours, in haste."
LETTER 362. TO MR. MURRAY.
"Ravenna, March 20. 1820."Last post I sent you 'The Vision of Dante,'—four first Cantos. Enclosed you will find,line for line, inthird rhyme(terza rima), of which your British blackguard reader as yet understands nothing, Fanny of Rimini. You know that she was born here, and married, and slain, from Gary, Boyd, and such people. I have done it intocrampEnglish, line for line, and rhyme for rhyme, to try the possibility. You had best append it to the poems already sent by last three posts. I shall not allow you to play the tricks you did last year, with the prose youpost-scribed to Mazeppa, which I sent to younotto be published, if not in a periodical paper,—and there you tacked it, without a word of explanation. If this is published, publish itwith the original, andtogetherwith thePulcitranslation,ortheDante imitation. I suppose you have both by now, and theJuanlong before."FRANCESCA OF RIMINI."Translation from the Inferno of Dante, Canto 5th."'The land where I was born sits by the seas,Upon that shore to which the Po descends,With all his followers, in search of peace.Love, which the gentle heart soon apprehends,Seized him for the fair person which was ta'enFrom me, and me even yet the mode offends.Love, who to none beloved to love againRemits, seized me with wish to please, so strong,That, as thou seest, yet, yet it doth remain.Love to one death conducted us along,But Caina waits for him our life who ended:'These were the accents utter'd by her tongue,—Since first I listen'd to these souls offended,I bow'd my visage and so kept it till—{then}'What think'st thou?' said the bard; {when} I unbended,And recommenced: 'Alas! unto such illHow many sweet thoughts, what strong ecstasiesLed these their evil fortune to fulfil!'And then I turn'd unto their side my eyes,And said, 'Francesca, thy sad destiniesHave made me sorrow till the tears arise.But tell me, in the season of sweet sighs,By what and how thy Love to Passion rose,So as his dim desires to recognise?'Then she to me: 'The greatest of all woes{recall to mind}Is to {remind us of} our happy days{this}In misery, and {that} thy teacher knows.But if to learn our passion's first root preysUpon thy spirit with such sympathy,{relate}I will {do[70]even} as he who weeps and says.—We read one day for pastime, seated nigh,Of Lancilot, how Love enchain'd him too.We were alone, quite unsuspiciously,But oft our eyes met, and our cheeks in hueAll o'er discolour'd by that reading were;{overthrew}But one point only wholly {us o'erthrew;}{desired}When we read the {long-sighed-for} smile of her,{a fervent}To be thus kiss'd by such {devoted} lover,He who from me can be divided ne'erKiss'd my mouth, trembling in the act all over.Accursed was the book and he who wrote!That day no further leaf we did uncover.—While thus one Spirit told us of their lot,The other wept, so that with pity's thrallsI swoon'd as if by death I had been smote,And fell down even as a dead body falls.'"
"Ravenna, March 20. 1820.
"Last post I sent you 'The Vision of Dante,'—four first Cantos. Enclosed you will find,line for line, inthird rhyme(terza rima), of which your British blackguard reader as yet understands nothing, Fanny of Rimini. You know that she was born here, and married, and slain, from Gary, Boyd, and such people. I have done it intocrampEnglish, line for line, and rhyme for rhyme, to try the possibility. You had best append it to the poems already sent by last three posts. I shall not allow you to play the tricks you did last year, with the prose youpost-scribed to Mazeppa, which I sent to younotto be published, if not in a periodical paper,—and there you tacked it, without a word of explanation. If this is published, publish itwith the original, andtogetherwith thePulcitranslation,ortheDante imitation. I suppose you have both by now, and theJuanlong before.
"FRANCESCA OF RIMINI.
"Translation from the Inferno of Dante, Canto 5th.
"'The land where I was born sits by the seas,Upon that shore to which the Po descends,With all his followers, in search of peace.Love, which the gentle heart soon apprehends,Seized him for the fair person which was ta'enFrom me, and me even yet the mode offends.Love, who to none beloved to love againRemits, seized me with wish to please, so strong,That, as thou seest, yet, yet it doth remain.Love to one death conducted us along,But Caina waits for him our life who ended:'These were the accents utter'd by her tongue,—Since first I listen'd to these souls offended,I bow'd my visage and so kept it till—{then}'What think'st thou?' said the bard; {when} I unbended,And recommenced: 'Alas! unto such illHow many sweet thoughts, what strong ecstasiesLed these their evil fortune to fulfil!'And then I turn'd unto their side my eyes,And said, 'Francesca, thy sad destiniesHave made me sorrow till the tears arise.But tell me, in the season of sweet sighs,By what and how thy Love to Passion rose,So as his dim desires to recognise?'Then she to me: 'The greatest of all woes{recall to mind}Is to {remind us of} our happy days{this}In misery, and {that} thy teacher knows.But if to learn our passion's first root preysUpon thy spirit with such sympathy,{relate}I will {do[70]even} as he who weeps and says.—We read one day for pastime, seated nigh,Of Lancilot, how Love enchain'd him too.We were alone, quite unsuspiciously,But oft our eyes met, and our cheeks in hueAll o'er discolour'd by that reading were;{overthrew}But one point only wholly {us o'erthrew;}{desired}When we read the {long-sighed-for} smile of her,{a fervent}To be thus kiss'd by such {devoted} lover,He who from me can be divided ne'erKiss'd my mouth, trembling in the act all over.Accursed was the book and he who wrote!That day no further leaf we did uncover.—While thus one Spirit told us of their lot,The other wept, so that with pity's thrallsI swoon'd as if by death I had been smote,And fell down even as a dead body falls.'"
"'The land where I was born sits by the seas,Upon that shore to which the Po descends,With all his followers, in search of peace.Love, which the gentle heart soon apprehends,Seized him for the fair person which was ta'enFrom me, and me even yet the mode offends.Love, who to none beloved to love againRemits, seized me with wish to please, so strong,That, as thou seest, yet, yet it doth remain.Love to one death conducted us along,But Caina waits for him our life who ended:'These were the accents utter'd by her tongue,—Since first I listen'd to these souls offended,I bow'd my visage and so kept it till—
{then}'What think'st thou?' said the bard; {when} I unbended,And recommenced: 'Alas! unto such illHow many sweet thoughts, what strong ecstasiesLed these their evil fortune to fulfil!'And then I turn'd unto their side my eyes,And said, 'Francesca, thy sad destiniesHave made me sorrow till the tears arise.But tell me, in the season of sweet sighs,By what and how thy Love to Passion rose,So as his dim desires to recognise?'Then she to me: 'The greatest of all woes{recall to mind}Is to {remind us of} our happy days{this}In misery, and {that} thy teacher knows.
But if to learn our passion's first root preysUpon thy spirit with such sympathy,{relate}I will {do[70]even} as he who weeps and says.—We read one day for pastime, seated nigh,Of Lancilot, how Love enchain'd him too.We were alone, quite unsuspiciously,But oft our eyes met, and our cheeks in hueAll o'er discolour'd by that reading were;{overthrew}But one point only wholly {us o'erthrew;}{desired}When we read the {long-sighed-for} smile of her,{a fervent}To be thus kiss'd by such {devoted} lover,He who from me can be divided ne'erKiss'd my mouth, trembling in the act all over.Accursed was the book and he who wrote!That day no further leaf we did uncover.—While thus one Spirit told us of their lot,The other wept, so that with pity's thrallsI swoon'd as if by death I had been smote,And fell down even as a dead body falls.'"
LETTER 363. TO MR. MURRAY.
"Ravenna, March 23. 1820."I have received your letter of the 7th. Besides the four packets you have already received, I have sent the Pulci a few days after, and since (a few days ago) the four first Cantos of Dante's Prophecy, (thebest thing I ever wrote, if it be notunintelligible,) and by last post a literal translation, word for word (versed like the original), of the episode of Francesca of Rimini. I want to hear what you think of the new Juans, and the translations, and the Vision. They are all things that are, or ought to be, very different from one another."If you choose to make a print from the Venetian, you may; but she don't correspond at all to the character you mean her to represent. On the contrary, the Contessa G. does (except that she is fair), and is much prettier than the Fornarina; but I have no picture of her except a miniature, which is very ill done; and, besides, it would not be proper, on any account whatever, to make such a use of it, even if you had a copy."Recollect that the two new Cantos only count with us for one. You may put the Pulci and Dante together: perhaps that were best. So you have put your name to Juan, after all your panic. You are a rare fellow. I must now put myself in a passion to continue my prose. Yours," &c."I have caused write to Thorwaldsen. Pray be careful in sending my daughter's picture—I mean, that it be not hurt in the carriage, for it is a journey rather long and jolting."
"Ravenna, March 23. 1820.
"I have received your letter of the 7th. Besides the four packets you have already received, I have sent the Pulci a few days after, and since (a few days ago) the four first Cantos of Dante's Prophecy, (thebest thing I ever wrote, if it be notunintelligible,) and by last post a literal translation, word for word (versed like the original), of the episode of Francesca of Rimini. I want to hear what you think of the new Juans, and the translations, and the Vision. They are all things that are, or ought to be, very different from one another.
"If you choose to make a print from the Venetian, you may; but she don't correspond at all to the character you mean her to represent. On the contrary, the Contessa G. does (except that she is fair), and is much prettier than the Fornarina; but I have no picture of her except a miniature, which is very ill done; and, besides, it would not be proper, on any account whatever, to make such a use of it, even if you had a copy.
"Recollect that the two new Cantos only count with us for one. You may put the Pulci and Dante together: perhaps that were best. So you have put your name to Juan, after all your panic. You are a rare fellow. I must now put myself in a passion to continue my prose. Yours," &c.
"I have caused write to Thorwaldsen. Pray be careful in sending my daughter's picture—I mean, that it be not hurt in the carriage, for it is a journey rather long and jolting."
LETTER 364. TO MR. MURRAY.
"Ravenna, March 28. 1820."Enclosed is a 'Screed of Doctrine' for you, of which I will trouble you to acknowledge the receiptby next post. Mr. Hobhouse must have the correction of it for the press. You may show it first to whom you please."I wish to know what became of my two Epistles from St. Paul (translated from the Armenian three years ago and more), and of the letter to R——ts of last autumn, which you never have attended to? There are two packets with this."P.S. I have some thoughts of publishing the 'Hints from Horace,' written ten years ago[71],—if Hobhouse can rummage them out of my papers left at his father's,—with some omissions and alterations previously to be made when I see the proofs."
"Ravenna, March 28. 1820.
"Enclosed is a 'Screed of Doctrine' for you, of which I will trouble you to acknowledge the receiptby next post. Mr. Hobhouse must have the correction of it for the press. You may show it first to whom you please.
"I wish to know what became of my two Epistles from St. Paul (translated from the Armenian three years ago and more), and of the letter to R——ts of last autumn, which you never have attended to? There are two packets with this.
"P.S. I have some thoughts of publishing the 'Hints from Horace,' written ten years ago[71],—if Hobhouse can rummage them out of my papers left at his father's,—with some omissions and alterations previously to be made when I see the proofs."
LETTER 365. TO MR. MURRAY.
"Ravenna, March 29. 1820."Herewith you will receive a note (enclosed) on Pope, which you will find tally with a part of the text of last post. I have at last lost all patience with the atrocious cant and nonsense about Pope, with which our present * *s are overflowing, andam determined to make such head against it as an individual can, by prose or verse; and I will at least do it with good will. There is no bearing it any longer; and if it goes on, it will destroy what little good writing or taste remains amongst us. I hope there are still a few men of taste to second me; but if not, I'll battle it alone, convinced that it is in the best cause of English literature."I have sent you so many packets, verse and prose, lately, that you will be tired of the postage, if not of the perusal. I want to answer some parts of your last letter, but I have not time, for I must 'boot and saddle,' as my Captain Craigengelt (an officer of the old Napoleon Italian army) is in waiting, and my groom and cattle to boot."You have given me a screed of metaphor and what not aboutPulci, and manners, and 'going without clothes, like our Saxon ancestors.' Now, theSaxons did not go without clothes; and, in the next place, they are not my ancestors, nor yours either; for mine were Norman, and yours, I take it by your name, wereGael. And, in the next, I differ from you about the 'refinement' which has banished the comedies of Congreve. Are not the comedies ofSheridan? acted to the thinnest houses? I know (asex-committed) that 'The School for Scandal' was the worst stock piece upon record. I also know that Congreve gave up writing because Mrs. Centlivre's balderdash drove his comedies off. So it is not decency, but stupidity, that does all this; for Sheridan is as decent a writer as need be, and Congreve no worse than Mrs. Centlivre, of whomWilks (the actor) said, 'not only her play would be damned, but she too.' He alluded to 'A Bold Stroke for a Wife.' But last, and most to the purpose, Pulci isnotanindecentwriter—at least in his first Canto, as you will have perceived by this time."You talk ofrefinement:—are you allmoremoral? are yousomoral? No such thing.Iknow what the world is in England, by my own proper experience of the best of it—at least of the loftiest; and I have described it every where as it is to be found in all places."But to return. I should like to see theproofsof mine answer, because there will be something to omit or to alter. But pray let it be carefully printed. When convenient let me have an answer."Yours."
"Ravenna, March 29. 1820.
"Herewith you will receive a note (enclosed) on Pope, which you will find tally with a part of the text of last post. I have at last lost all patience with the atrocious cant and nonsense about Pope, with which our present * *s are overflowing, andam determined to make such head against it as an individual can, by prose or verse; and I will at least do it with good will. There is no bearing it any longer; and if it goes on, it will destroy what little good writing or taste remains amongst us. I hope there are still a few men of taste to second me; but if not, I'll battle it alone, convinced that it is in the best cause of English literature.
"I have sent you so many packets, verse and prose, lately, that you will be tired of the postage, if not of the perusal. I want to answer some parts of your last letter, but I have not time, for I must 'boot and saddle,' as my Captain Craigengelt (an officer of the old Napoleon Italian army) is in waiting, and my groom and cattle to boot.
"You have given me a screed of metaphor and what not aboutPulci, and manners, and 'going without clothes, like our Saxon ancestors.' Now, theSaxons did not go without clothes; and, in the next place, they are not my ancestors, nor yours either; for mine were Norman, and yours, I take it by your name, wereGael. And, in the next, I differ from you about the 'refinement' which has banished the comedies of Congreve. Are not the comedies ofSheridan? acted to the thinnest houses? I know (asex-committed) that 'The School for Scandal' was the worst stock piece upon record. I also know that Congreve gave up writing because Mrs. Centlivre's balderdash drove his comedies off. So it is not decency, but stupidity, that does all this; for Sheridan is as decent a writer as need be, and Congreve no worse than Mrs. Centlivre, of whomWilks (the actor) said, 'not only her play would be damned, but she too.' He alluded to 'A Bold Stroke for a Wife.' But last, and most to the purpose, Pulci isnotanindecentwriter—at least in his first Canto, as you will have perceived by this time.
"You talk ofrefinement:—are you allmoremoral? are yousomoral? No such thing.Iknow what the world is in England, by my own proper experience of the best of it—at least of the loftiest; and I have described it every where as it is to be found in all places.
"But to return. I should like to see theproofsof mine answer, because there will be something to omit or to alter. But pray let it be carefully printed. When convenient let me have an answer.
"Yours."
LETTER 366. TO MR. HOPPNER.
"Ravenna, March 31. 1820."Ravenna continues much the same as I described it. Conversazioni all Lent, and much better ones than any at Venice. There are small games at hazard, that is, faro, where nobody can point more than a shilling or two;—other card-tables, and as much talk and coffee as you please. Every body does and says what they please; and I do not recollect any disagreeable events, except being three times falsely accused of flirtation, and once being robbed of six sixpences by a nobleman of the city, a Count * * *. I did not suspect the illustriousdelinquent; but the Countess V * * * and the Marquis L * * * told me of it directly, and also that it was a way he had, of filching money when he saw it before him; but I did not ax him for the cash, but contented myself with telling him that if he did it again, I should anticipate the law."There is to be a theatre in April, and a fair, and an opera, and another opera in June, besides the fine weather of nature's giving, and the rides in the Forest of Pine. With my best respects to Mrs. Hoppner, believe me ever, &c. BYRON."P.S. Could you give me an item of what books remain at Venice? I don't want them, but want to know whether the few that are not here are there, and were not lost by the way. I hope and trust you have got all your wine safe, and that it is drinkable. Allegra is prettier, I think, but as obstinate as a mule, and as ravenous as a vulture: health good, to judge of the complexion—temper tolerable, but for vanity and pertinacity. She thinks herself handsome, and will do as she pleases."
"Ravenna, March 31. 1820.
"Ravenna continues much the same as I described it. Conversazioni all Lent, and much better ones than any at Venice. There are small games at hazard, that is, faro, where nobody can point more than a shilling or two;—other card-tables, and as much talk and coffee as you please. Every body does and says what they please; and I do not recollect any disagreeable events, except being three times falsely accused of flirtation, and once being robbed of six sixpences by a nobleman of the city, a Count * * *. I did not suspect the illustriousdelinquent; but the Countess V * * * and the Marquis L * * * told me of it directly, and also that it was a way he had, of filching money when he saw it before him; but I did not ax him for the cash, but contented myself with telling him that if he did it again, I should anticipate the law.
"There is to be a theatre in April, and a fair, and an opera, and another opera in June, besides the fine weather of nature's giving, and the rides in the Forest of Pine. With my best respects to Mrs. Hoppner, believe me ever, &c. BYRON.
"P.S. Could you give me an item of what books remain at Venice? I don't want them, but want to know whether the few that are not here are there, and were not lost by the way. I hope and trust you have got all your wine safe, and that it is drinkable. Allegra is prettier, I think, but as obstinate as a mule, and as ravenous as a vulture: health good, to judge of the complexion—temper tolerable, but for vanity and pertinacity. She thinks herself handsome, and will do as she pleases."
LETTER 367. TO MR. MURRAY.
"Ravenna, April 9. 1820."In the name of all the devils in the printing-office, why don't you write to acknowledge the receipt of the second, third, and fourth packets, viz. the Pulci translation and original, theDanticles, the Observations on, &c.? You forget that you keep me in hot water till I know whether they are arrived, or if I must have the bore of re-copying."Have you gotten the cream of translations, Francesca of Rimini, from the Inferno? Why, I have sent you a warehouse of trash within the last month, and you have no sort of feeling about you: a pastry-cook would have had twice the gratitude, and thanked me at least for the quantity."To make the letter heavier, I enclose you the Cardinal Legate's (our Campeius) circular for his conversazione this evening. It is the anniversary of the Pope'stiara-tion, and all polite Christians, even of the Lutheran creed, must go and be civil. And there will be a circle, and a faro-table, (for shillings, that is, they don't allow high play,) and all the beauty, nobility, and sanctity of Ravenna present. The Cardinal himself is a very good-natured little fellow, bishop of Muda, and legate here,—a decent believer in all the doctrines of the church. He has kept his housekeeper these forty years * * * *; but is reckoned a pious man, and a moral liver."I am not quite sure that I won't be among you this autumn, for I find that business don't go on—what with trustees and lawyers—as it should do, 'with all deliberate speed.' They differ about investments in Ireland."Between the devil and deep sea,Between the lawyer and trustee,I am puzzled; and so much time is lost by my not being upon the spot, what with answers, demurs, rejoinders, that it may be I must come and look to it; for one says do, and t'other don't, so that I knownot which way to turn: but perhaps they can manage without me."Yours, &c."P.S. I have begun a tragedy on the subject of Marino Faliero, the Doge of Venice; but you sha'n't see it these six years, if you don't acknowledge my packets with more quickness and precision.Always write, if but a line, by return of post, when any thing arrives, which is not a mere letter."Address direct to Ravenna; it saves a week's time, and much postage."
"Ravenna, April 9. 1820.
"In the name of all the devils in the printing-office, why don't you write to acknowledge the receipt of the second, third, and fourth packets, viz. the Pulci translation and original, theDanticles, the Observations on, &c.? You forget that you keep me in hot water till I know whether they are arrived, or if I must have the bore of re-copying.
"Have you gotten the cream of translations, Francesca of Rimini, from the Inferno? Why, I have sent you a warehouse of trash within the last month, and you have no sort of feeling about you: a pastry-cook would have had twice the gratitude, and thanked me at least for the quantity.
"To make the letter heavier, I enclose you the Cardinal Legate's (our Campeius) circular for his conversazione this evening. It is the anniversary of the Pope'stiara-tion, and all polite Christians, even of the Lutheran creed, must go and be civil. And there will be a circle, and a faro-table, (for shillings, that is, they don't allow high play,) and all the beauty, nobility, and sanctity of Ravenna present. The Cardinal himself is a very good-natured little fellow, bishop of Muda, and legate here,—a decent believer in all the doctrines of the church. He has kept his housekeeper these forty years * * * *; but is reckoned a pious man, and a moral liver.
"I am not quite sure that I won't be among you this autumn, for I find that business don't go on—what with trustees and lawyers—as it should do, 'with all deliberate speed.' They differ about investments in Ireland.
"Between the devil and deep sea,Between the lawyer and trustee,
"Between the devil and deep sea,Between the lawyer and trustee,
I am puzzled; and so much time is lost by my not being upon the spot, what with answers, demurs, rejoinders, that it may be I must come and look to it; for one says do, and t'other don't, so that I knownot which way to turn: but perhaps they can manage without me.
"Yours, &c.
"P.S. I have begun a tragedy on the subject of Marino Faliero, the Doge of Venice; but you sha'n't see it these six years, if you don't acknowledge my packets with more quickness and precision.Always write, if but a line, by return of post, when any thing arrives, which is not a mere letter.
"Address direct to Ravenna; it saves a week's time, and much postage."
LETTER 368. TO MR. MURRAY.
"Ravenna, April 16. 1820."Post after post arrives without bringing any acknowledgment from you of the different packets (excepting the first) which I sent within the last two months, all of which ought to be arrived long ere now; and as they were announced in other letters, you ought at least to say whether they are come or not. You are not expected to write frequent, or long letters, as your time is much occupied; but when parcels that have cost some pains in the composition, and great trouble in the copying, are sent to you, I should at least be put out of suspense, by the immediate acknowledgment, per return of post, addresseddirectlytoRavenna. I am naturally—knowing what continental posts are—anxious to hear that they are arrived; especially as I loathe the task of copying so much, that if there was a humanbeing that could copy my blotted MSS. he should have all they can ever bring for his trouble. All I desire is two lines, to say, such a day I received such a packet. There are at least six unacknowledged. This is neither kind nor courteous."I have, besides, another reason for desiring you to be speedy, which is, that there is THAT brewing in Italy which will speedily cut off all security of communication, and set all your Anglo-travellers flying in every direction, with their usual fortitude in foreign tumults. The Spanish and French affairs have set the Italians in a ferment; and no wonder: they have been too long trampled on. This will make a sad scene for your exquisite traveller, but not for the resident, who naturally wishes a people to redress itself. I shall, if permitted by the natives, remain to see what will come of it, and perhaps to take a turn with them, like Dugald Dalgetty and his horse, in case of business; for I shall think it by far the most interesting spectacle and moment in existence, to see the Italians send the barbarians of all nations back to their own dens. I have lived long enough among them to feel more for them as a nation than for any other people in existence. But they want union, and they want principle; and I doubt their success. However, they will try, probably, and if they do, it will be a good cause. No Italian can hate an Austrian more than I do: unless it be the English, the Austrians seem to me the most obnoxious race under the sky."But I doubt, if any thing be done, it won't be so quietly as in Spain. To be sure, revolutions arenot to be made with rose-water, where there are foreigners as masters."Write while you can; for it is but the toss up of a paul that there will not be a row that will somewhat retard the mail by and by."Yours," &c.
"Ravenna, April 16. 1820.
"Post after post arrives without bringing any acknowledgment from you of the different packets (excepting the first) which I sent within the last two months, all of which ought to be arrived long ere now; and as they were announced in other letters, you ought at least to say whether they are come or not. You are not expected to write frequent, or long letters, as your time is much occupied; but when parcels that have cost some pains in the composition, and great trouble in the copying, are sent to you, I should at least be put out of suspense, by the immediate acknowledgment, per return of post, addresseddirectlytoRavenna. I am naturally—knowing what continental posts are—anxious to hear that they are arrived; especially as I loathe the task of copying so much, that if there was a humanbeing that could copy my blotted MSS. he should have all they can ever bring for his trouble. All I desire is two lines, to say, such a day I received such a packet. There are at least six unacknowledged. This is neither kind nor courteous.
"I have, besides, another reason for desiring you to be speedy, which is, that there is THAT brewing in Italy which will speedily cut off all security of communication, and set all your Anglo-travellers flying in every direction, with their usual fortitude in foreign tumults. The Spanish and French affairs have set the Italians in a ferment; and no wonder: they have been too long trampled on. This will make a sad scene for your exquisite traveller, but not for the resident, who naturally wishes a people to redress itself. I shall, if permitted by the natives, remain to see what will come of it, and perhaps to take a turn with them, like Dugald Dalgetty and his horse, in case of business; for I shall think it by far the most interesting spectacle and moment in existence, to see the Italians send the barbarians of all nations back to their own dens. I have lived long enough among them to feel more for them as a nation than for any other people in existence. But they want union, and they want principle; and I doubt their success. However, they will try, probably, and if they do, it will be a good cause. No Italian can hate an Austrian more than I do: unless it be the English, the Austrians seem to me the most obnoxious race under the sky.
"But I doubt, if any thing be done, it won't be so quietly as in Spain. To be sure, revolutions arenot to be made with rose-water, where there are foreigners as masters.
"Write while you can; for it is but the toss up of a paul that there will not be a row that will somewhat retard the mail by and by.
"Yours," &c.
LETTER 369. TO MR. HOPPNER.
"Ravenna, April 18. 1820."I have caused write to Siri and Willhalm to send with Vincenza, in a boat, the camp-beds and swords left in their care when I quitted Venice. There are also several pounds of Mantons best powder in a Japan case; but unless I felt sure of getting it away from V. without seizure, I won't have it ventured. I can get it in here, by means of an acquaintance in the customs, who has offered to get it ashore for me; but should like to be certiorated of its safety in leaving Venice. I would not lose it for its weight in gold—there is none such in Italy, as I take it to be."I wrote to you a week or so ago, and hope you are in good plight and spirits. Sir Humphry Davy is here, and was last night at the Cardinal's. As I had been there last Sunday, and yesterday was warm, I did not go, which I should have done, if I had thought of meeting the man of chemistry. He called this morning, and I shall go in search of him at Corso time. I believe to-day, being Monday, there is no great conversazione, and only the family one at the Marchese Cavalli's, where I go as a relationsometimes, so that, unless he stays a day or two, we should hardly meet in public."The theatre is to open in May for the fair, if there is not a row in all Italy by that time,—the Spanish business has set them all a constitutioning, and what will be the end, no one knows—it is also necessary thereunto to have a beginning."Yours, &c."P.S. My benediction to Mrs. Hoppner. How is your little boy? Allegra is growing, and has increased in good looks and obstinacy."
"Ravenna, April 18. 1820.
"I have caused write to Siri and Willhalm to send with Vincenza, in a boat, the camp-beds and swords left in their care when I quitted Venice. There are also several pounds of Mantons best powder in a Japan case; but unless I felt sure of getting it away from V. without seizure, I won't have it ventured. I can get it in here, by means of an acquaintance in the customs, who has offered to get it ashore for me; but should like to be certiorated of its safety in leaving Venice. I would not lose it for its weight in gold—there is none such in Italy, as I take it to be.
"I wrote to you a week or so ago, and hope you are in good plight and spirits. Sir Humphry Davy is here, and was last night at the Cardinal's. As I had been there last Sunday, and yesterday was warm, I did not go, which I should have done, if I had thought of meeting the man of chemistry. He called this morning, and I shall go in search of him at Corso time. I believe to-day, being Monday, there is no great conversazione, and only the family one at the Marchese Cavalli's, where I go as a relationsometimes, so that, unless he stays a day or two, we should hardly meet in public.
"The theatre is to open in May for the fair, if there is not a row in all Italy by that time,—the Spanish business has set them all a constitutioning, and what will be the end, no one knows—it is also necessary thereunto to have a beginning.
"Yours, &c.
"P.S. My benediction to Mrs. Hoppner. How is your little boy? Allegra is growing, and has increased in good looks and obstinacy."
LETTER 370. TO MR. MURRAY.
"Ravenna, April 23. 1820."The proofs don't contain thelaststanzas of Canto second, but end abruptly with the 105th stanza."I told you long ago that the new Cantos[72]werenotgood, and I alsotold you a reason. Recollect, I do not oblige you to publish them; you may suppress them, if you like, but I can alter nothing. I have erased the six stanzas about those two impostors * * * * (which I suppose will give you great pleasure), but I can do no more. I can neither recast, nor replace; but I give you leave to put it all into the fire, if you like, ornotto publish, and I think that's sufficient."I told you that I wrote on with no good will—that I had been,notfrightened, buthurtby the outcry, and, besides, that when I wrote last November,I was ill in body, and in very great distress of mind about some private things of my own; but you would have it: so I sent it to you, and to make it lighter, cut it in two—but I can't piece it together again. I can't cobble: I must 'either make a spoon or spoil a horn,'—and there's an end; for there's no remeid: but I leave you free will to suppress the whole, if you like it."About theMorgante Maggiore, I won't have a line omitted. It may circulate, or it may not; but all the criticism on earth sha'n't touch a line, unless it be because it is badly translated. Now you say, and I say, and others say, that the translation is a good one; and so it shall go to press as it is. Pulci must answer for his own irreligion: I answer for the translation only."Pray let Mr. Hobhouse look to the Italian next time in the proofs: this time, while I am scribbling to you, they are corrected by one who passes for the prettiest woman in Romagna, and even the Marches, as far as Ancona, be the other who she may."I am glad you like my answer to your enquiries about Italian society. It is fit you should likesomething, and be d——d to you."My love to Scott. I shall think higher of knighthood ever after for his being dubbed. By the way, he is the first poet titled for his talent in Britain: it has happened abroad before now; but on the Continent titles are universal and worthless. Why don't you send me Ivanhoe and the Monastery? I have never written to Sir Walter, for I knowhe has a thousand things, and I a thousand nothings, to do; but I hope to see him at Abbotsford before very long, and I will sweat his claret for him, though Italian abstemiousness has made my brain but a shilpit concern for a Scotch sitting 'inter pocula.' I love Scott, and Moore, and all the better brethren; but I hate and abhor that puddle of water-worms whom you have taken into your troop."Yours, &c."P.S. You say thatone halfis very good: you arewrong; for, if it were, it would be the finest poem in existence.Whereis the poetry of whichone halfis good? is it theÆneid? is itMilton's? is itDryden's? is it any one's exceptPope'sandGoldsmith's, of whichallis good? and yet these two last are the poets your pond poets would explode. But ifone halfof the two new Cantos be good in your opinion, what the devil would you have more? No—no; no poetry isgenerallygood—only by fits and starts—and you are lucky to get a sparkle here and there. You might as well want a midnightall starsas rhyme all perfect."We are on the verge of arowhere. Last night they have overwritten all the city walls with 'Up with the republic!' and 'Death to the Pope!' &c. &c. This would be nothing in London, where the walls are privileged. But here it is a different thing: they are not used to such fierce political inscriptions, and the police is all on the alert, and the Cardinal glares pale through all his purple."April 24. 1820. 8 o'clock, P.M."The police have been, all noon and after, searching for the inscribers, but have caught none as yet. They must have been all night about it, for the 'Live republics—Death to Popes and Priests,' are innumerable, and plastered over all the palaces: ours has plenty. There is 'Down with the Nobility,' too; they are down enough already, for that matter. A very heavy rain and wind having come on, I did not go out and 'skirr the country;' but I shall mount to-morrow, and take a canter among the peasantry, who are a savage, resolute race, always riding with guns in their hands. I wonder they don't suspect the serenaders, for they play on the guitar here all night, as in Spain, to their mistresses."Talking of politics, as Caleb Quotem says, pray look at theconclusionof my Ode onWaterloo, written in the year 1815, and, comparing it with the Duke de Berri's catastrophe in 1820, tell me if I have not as good a right to the character of 'Vates' in both senses of the word, as Fitzgerald and Coleridge?"'Crimson tears will follow yet—'and have not they?"I can't pretend to foresee what will happen among you Englishers at this distance, but I vaticinate a row in Italy; in whilk case, I don't know that I won't have a finger in it. I dislike the Austrians, and think the Italians infamously oppressed; and if they begin, why, I will recommend 'the erection of a sconce upon Drumsnab,' like Dugald Dalgetty."
"Ravenna, April 23. 1820.
"The proofs don't contain thelaststanzas of Canto second, but end abruptly with the 105th stanza.
"I told you long ago that the new Cantos[72]werenotgood, and I alsotold you a reason. Recollect, I do not oblige you to publish them; you may suppress them, if you like, but I can alter nothing. I have erased the six stanzas about those two impostors * * * * (which I suppose will give you great pleasure), but I can do no more. I can neither recast, nor replace; but I give you leave to put it all into the fire, if you like, ornotto publish, and I think that's sufficient.
"I told you that I wrote on with no good will—that I had been,notfrightened, buthurtby the outcry, and, besides, that when I wrote last November,I was ill in body, and in very great distress of mind about some private things of my own; but you would have it: so I sent it to you, and to make it lighter, cut it in two—but I can't piece it together again. I can't cobble: I must 'either make a spoon or spoil a horn,'—and there's an end; for there's no remeid: but I leave you free will to suppress the whole, if you like it.
"About theMorgante Maggiore, I won't have a line omitted. It may circulate, or it may not; but all the criticism on earth sha'n't touch a line, unless it be because it is badly translated. Now you say, and I say, and others say, that the translation is a good one; and so it shall go to press as it is. Pulci must answer for his own irreligion: I answer for the translation only.
"Pray let Mr. Hobhouse look to the Italian next time in the proofs: this time, while I am scribbling to you, they are corrected by one who passes for the prettiest woman in Romagna, and even the Marches, as far as Ancona, be the other who she may.
"I am glad you like my answer to your enquiries about Italian society. It is fit you should likesomething, and be d——d to you.
"My love to Scott. I shall think higher of knighthood ever after for his being dubbed. By the way, he is the first poet titled for his talent in Britain: it has happened abroad before now; but on the Continent titles are universal and worthless. Why don't you send me Ivanhoe and the Monastery? I have never written to Sir Walter, for I knowhe has a thousand things, and I a thousand nothings, to do; but I hope to see him at Abbotsford before very long, and I will sweat his claret for him, though Italian abstemiousness has made my brain but a shilpit concern for a Scotch sitting 'inter pocula.' I love Scott, and Moore, and all the better brethren; but I hate and abhor that puddle of water-worms whom you have taken into your troop.
"Yours, &c.
"P.S. You say thatone halfis very good: you arewrong; for, if it were, it would be the finest poem in existence.Whereis the poetry of whichone halfis good? is it theÆneid? is itMilton's? is itDryden's? is it any one's exceptPope'sandGoldsmith's, of whichallis good? and yet these two last are the poets your pond poets would explode. But ifone halfof the two new Cantos be good in your opinion, what the devil would you have more? No—no; no poetry isgenerallygood—only by fits and starts—and you are lucky to get a sparkle here and there. You might as well want a midnightall starsas rhyme all perfect.
"We are on the verge of arowhere. Last night they have overwritten all the city walls with 'Up with the republic!' and 'Death to the Pope!' &c. &c. This would be nothing in London, where the walls are privileged. But here it is a different thing: they are not used to such fierce political inscriptions, and the police is all on the alert, and the Cardinal glares pale through all his purple.
"April 24. 1820. 8 o'clock, P.M.
"The police have been, all noon and after, searching for the inscribers, but have caught none as yet. They must have been all night about it, for the 'Live republics—Death to Popes and Priests,' are innumerable, and plastered over all the palaces: ours has plenty. There is 'Down with the Nobility,' too; they are down enough already, for that matter. A very heavy rain and wind having come on, I did not go out and 'skirr the country;' but I shall mount to-morrow, and take a canter among the peasantry, who are a savage, resolute race, always riding with guns in their hands. I wonder they don't suspect the serenaders, for they play on the guitar here all night, as in Spain, to their mistresses.
"Talking of politics, as Caleb Quotem says, pray look at theconclusionof my Ode onWaterloo, written in the year 1815, and, comparing it with the Duke de Berri's catastrophe in 1820, tell me if I have not as good a right to the character of 'Vates' in both senses of the word, as Fitzgerald and Coleridge?
"'Crimson tears will follow yet—'
"'Crimson tears will follow yet—'
and have not they?
"I can't pretend to foresee what will happen among you Englishers at this distance, but I vaticinate a row in Italy; in whilk case, I don't know that I won't have a finger in it. I dislike the Austrians, and think the Italians infamously oppressed; and if they begin, why, I will recommend 'the erection of a sconce upon Drumsnab,' like Dugald Dalgetty."
LETTER 371. TO MR. MURRAY.
"Ravenna, May 8. 1820."From your not having written again, an intention which your letter of the 7th ultimo indicated, I have to presume that the 'Prophecy of Dante' has not been found more worthy than its predecessors in the eyes of your illustrious synod. In that case, you will be in some perplexity; to end which, I repeat to you, that you are not to consider yourself as bound or pledged to publish any thing because it ismine, but always to act according to your own views, or opinions, or those of your friends; and to be sure that you will in no degree offend me by 'declining the article,' to use a technical phrase. Theproseobservations on John Wilson's attack, I do not intend for publication at this time; and I send a copy of verses to Mr. Kinnaird (they were written last year on crossing the Po) which mustnotbe published either. I mention this, because it is probable he may give you a copy. Pray recollect this, as they are mere verses of society, and written upon private feelings and passions. And, moreover, I can't consent to any mutilations or omissions ofPulci: the original has been ever free from such in Italy, the capital of Christianity, and the translation may be so in England; though you will think it strange that they should have allowed suchfreedomfor many centuries to the Morgante, while the other day they confiscated the whole translation of the fourth Canto of Childe Harold, and have persecuted Leoni, the translator—so he writes me, and so Icould have told him, had he consulted me before his publication. This shows how much more politics interest men in these parts than religion. Half a dozen invectives against tyranny confiscate Childe Harold in a month; and eight and twenty cantos of quizzing monks and knights, and church government, are let loose for centuries. I copy Leoni's account."'Non ignorerà forse che la mia versione del 4° Canto del Childe Harold fu confiscata in ogni parte: ed io stesso ho dovuto soffrir vessazioni altrettanto ridicole quanto illiberaii, ad arte che alcuni versi fossero esclusi dalla censura. Ma siccome il divieto non fa d'ordinario che accrescere la curiosita cos! quel carme sull' Italia è ricercato più che mai, e penso di farlo ristampare in Inghil-terra senza nulla escludere. Sciagurata condizione di questa mia patria! se patria si può chiamare una terra così avvilita dalla fortuna, dagli uomini, da se medesima.'"Rose will translate this to you. Has he had his letter? I enclosed it to you months ago."This intended piece of publication I shall dissuade him from, or he may chance to see the inside of St. Angelo's. The last sentence of his letter is the common and pathetic sentiment of all his countrymen."Sir Humphry Davy was here last fortnight, and I was in his company in the house of a very pretty Italian lady of rank, who, by way of displaying her learning in presence of the great chemist, then describing his fourteenth ascension to Mount Vesuvius, asked 'if there was not a similar volcano inIreland?' My only notion of an Irish volcano consisted of the lake of Killarney, which I naturally conceived her to mean; but, on second thoughts, I divined that she alluded toIceland and to Hecla—and so it proved, though she sustained her volcanic topography for some time with all the amiable pertinacity of 'the feminie.' She soon after turned to me and asked me various questions about Sir Humphry's philosophy, and I explained as well as an oracle his skill in gasen safety lamps, and ungluing the Pompeian MSS. 'But what do you call him?' said she. 'A great chemist,' quoth I. 'What can he do?' repeated the lady. 'Almost any thing,' said I. 'Oh, then, mio caro, do pray beg him to give me something to dye my eyebrows black. I have tried a thousand things, and the colours all come off; and besides, they don't grow; can't he invent something to make them grow?' All this with the greatest earnestness; and what you will be surprised at, she is neither ignorant nor a fool, but really well educated and clever. But they speak like children, when first out of their convents; and, after all, this is better than an English blue-stocking."I did not tell Sir Humphry of this last piece of philosophy, not knowing how he might take it. Davy was much taken with Ravenna, and the PRIMITIVEItalianismof the people, who are unused to foreigners: but he only stayed a day."Send me Scott's novels and some news."P.S. I have begun and advanced into the secondact of a tragedy on the subject of the Doge's conspiracy (i.e.the story of Marino Faliero); but my present feeling is so little encouraging on such matters, that I begin to think I have mined my talent out, and proceed in no great phantasy of finding a new vein."P.S. I sometimes think (if the Italians don't rise) of coming over to England in the autumn after the coronation, (at which I would not appear, on account of my family schism,) but as yet I can decide nothing. The place must be a great deal changed since I left it, now more than four years ago."
"Ravenna, May 8. 1820.
"From your not having written again, an intention which your letter of the 7th ultimo indicated, I have to presume that the 'Prophecy of Dante' has not been found more worthy than its predecessors in the eyes of your illustrious synod. In that case, you will be in some perplexity; to end which, I repeat to you, that you are not to consider yourself as bound or pledged to publish any thing because it ismine, but always to act according to your own views, or opinions, or those of your friends; and to be sure that you will in no degree offend me by 'declining the article,' to use a technical phrase. Theproseobservations on John Wilson's attack, I do not intend for publication at this time; and I send a copy of verses to Mr. Kinnaird (they were written last year on crossing the Po) which mustnotbe published either. I mention this, because it is probable he may give you a copy. Pray recollect this, as they are mere verses of society, and written upon private feelings and passions. And, moreover, I can't consent to any mutilations or omissions ofPulci: the original has been ever free from such in Italy, the capital of Christianity, and the translation may be so in England; though you will think it strange that they should have allowed suchfreedomfor many centuries to the Morgante, while the other day they confiscated the whole translation of the fourth Canto of Childe Harold, and have persecuted Leoni, the translator—so he writes me, and so Icould have told him, had he consulted me before his publication. This shows how much more politics interest men in these parts than religion. Half a dozen invectives against tyranny confiscate Childe Harold in a month; and eight and twenty cantos of quizzing monks and knights, and church government, are let loose for centuries. I copy Leoni's account.
"'Non ignorerà forse che la mia versione del 4° Canto del Childe Harold fu confiscata in ogni parte: ed io stesso ho dovuto soffrir vessazioni altrettanto ridicole quanto illiberaii, ad arte che alcuni versi fossero esclusi dalla censura. Ma siccome il divieto non fa d'ordinario che accrescere la curiosita cos! quel carme sull' Italia è ricercato più che mai, e penso di farlo ristampare in Inghil-terra senza nulla escludere. Sciagurata condizione di questa mia patria! se patria si può chiamare una terra così avvilita dalla fortuna, dagli uomini, da se medesima.'
"Rose will translate this to you. Has he had his letter? I enclosed it to you months ago.
"This intended piece of publication I shall dissuade him from, or he may chance to see the inside of St. Angelo's. The last sentence of his letter is the common and pathetic sentiment of all his countrymen.
"Sir Humphry Davy was here last fortnight, and I was in his company in the house of a very pretty Italian lady of rank, who, by way of displaying her learning in presence of the great chemist, then describing his fourteenth ascension to Mount Vesuvius, asked 'if there was not a similar volcano inIreland?' My only notion of an Irish volcano consisted of the lake of Killarney, which I naturally conceived her to mean; but, on second thoughts, I divined that she alluded toIceland and to Hecla—and so it proved, though she sustained her volcanic topography for some time with all the amiable pertinacity of 'the feminie.' She soon after turned to me and asked me various questions about Sir Humphry's philosophy, and I explained as well as an oracle his skill in gasen safety lamps, and ungluing the Pompeian MSS. 'But what do you call him?' said she. 'A great chemist,' quoth I. 'What can he do?' repeated the lady. 'Almost any thing,' said I. 'Oh, then, mio caro, do pray beg him to give me something to dye my eyebrows black. I have tried a thousand things, and the colours all come off; and besides, they don't grow; can't he invent something to make them grow?' All this with the greatest earnestness; and what you will be surprised at, she is neither ignorant nor a fool, but really well educated and clever. But they speak like children, when first out of their convents; and, after all, this is better than an English blue-stocking.
"I did not tell Sir Humphry of this last piece of philosophy, not knowing how he might take it. Davy was much taken with Ravenna, and the PRIMITIVEItalianismof the people, who are unused to foreigners: but he only stayed a day.
"Send me Scott's novels and some news.
"P.S. I have begun and advanced into the secondact of a tragedy on the subject of the Doge's conspiracy (i.e.the story of Marino Faliero); but my present feeling is so little encouraging on such matters, that I begin to think I have mined my talent out, and proceed in no great phantasy of finding a new vein.
"P.S. I sometimes think (if the Italians don't rise) of coming over to England in the autumn after the coronation, (at which I would not appear, on account of my family schism,) but as yet I can decide nothing. The place must be a great deal changed since I left it, now more than four years ago."
LETTER 372. TO MR. MURRAY.
"Ravenna, May 20. 1820."Murray, my dear, make my respects to Thomas Campbell, and tell him from me, with faith and friendship, three things that he must right in his poets: Firstly, he says Anstey's Bath Guide characters are taken from Smollett. 'Tis impossible:—the Guide was published in 1766, and Humphrey Clinker in 1771—dunque, 'tis Smollett who has taken from Anstey. Secondly, he does not know to whom Cowper alludes, when he says that there was one who 'built a church toGod, and then blasphemed his name:' it was 'Deo erexitVoltaire' to whom that maniacal Calvinist and coddled poet alludes. Thirdly, he misquotes and spoils a passage from Shakspeare, 'to gild refined gold, to paint the lily,' &c.; forlilyhe puts rose, and bedevils in more words than one the whole quotation."Now, Tom is a fine fellow; but he should be correct; for the first is aninjustice(to Anstey), the second anignorance, and the third ablunder. Tell him all this, and let him take it in good part; for I might have rammed it into a review and rowed him—instead of which, I act like a Christian."Yours," &c.
"Ravenna, May 20. 1820.
"Murray, my dear, make my respects to Thomas Campbell, and tell him from me, with faith and friendship, three things that he must right in his poets: Firstly, he says Anstey's Bath Guide characters are taken from Smollett. 'Tis impossible:—the Guide was published in 1766, and Humphrey Clinker in 1771—dunque, 'tis Smollett who has taken from Anstey. Secondly, he does not know to whom Cowper alludes, when he says that there was one who 'built a church toGod, and then blasphemed his name:' it was 'Deo erexitVoltaire' to whom that maniacal Calvinist and coddled poet alludes. Thirdly, he misquotes and spoils a passage from Shakspeare, 'to gild refined gold, to paint the lily,' &c.; forlilyhe puts rose, and bedevils in more words than one the whole quotation.
"Now, Tom is a fine fellow; but he should be correct; for the first is aninjustice(to Anstey), the second anignorance, and the third ablunder. Tell him all this, and let him take it in good part; for I might have rammed it into a review and rowed him—instead of which, I act like a Christian.
"Yours," &c.
LETTER 373. TO MR. MURRAY.
"Ravenna, May 20. 1820."First and foremost, you must forward my letter toMooredated 2dJanuary, which I said you might open, but desired youto forward. Now, you should really not forget these little things, because they do mischief among friends. You are an excellent man, a great man, and live among great men, but do pray recollect your absent friends and authors."In the first place,your packets; then a letter from Kinnaird, on the most urgent business; another from Moore, about a communication to Lady Byron of importance; a fourth from the mother of Allegra; and, fifthly, at Ravenna, the Countess G. is on the eve of being separated. But the Italian public are on her side, particularly the women,—and the men also, because they say thathehad no business to take the business up now after a year of toleration. All her relations (who are numerous, high in rank, and powerful) are furiousagainst himfor his conduct. I am warned to be on my guard, as he is very capable of employingsicarii—this is Latin as well as Italian, so you can understand it; but I have arms,and don't mind them, thinking that I could pepper his ragamuffins, if they don't come unawares, and that, if they do, one may as well end that way as another; and it would besides serveyouas an advertisement:—"Man may escape from rope or gun, &c.But he who takes woman, woman, woman, &c."Yours."P.S. I have looked over the press, but heaven knows how. Think what I have on hand and the post going out to-morrow. Do you remember the epitaph on Voltaire?"'Ci-git l'enfant gâté,' &c."'Here lies the spoilt childOf the world which he spoil'd.'The original is in Grimm and Diderot, &c. &c. &c."
"Ravenna, May 20. 1820.
"First and foremost, you must forward my letter toMooredated 2dJanuary, which I said you might open, but desired youto forward. Now, you should really not forget these little things, because they do mischief among friends. You are an excellent man, a great man, and live among great men, but do pray recollect your absent friends and authors.
"In the first place,your packets; then a letter from Kinnaird, on the most urgent business; another from Moore, about a communication to Lady Byron of importance; a fourth from the mother of Allegra; and, fifthly, at Ravenna, the Countess G. is on the eve of being separated. But the Italian public are on her side, particularly the women,—and the men also, because they say thathehad no business to take the business up now after a year of toleration. All her relations (who are numerous, high in rank, and powerful) are furiousagainst himfor his conduct. I am warned to be on my guard, as he is very capable of employingsicarii—this is Latin as well as Italian, so you can understand it; but I have arms,and don't mind them, thinking that I could pepper his ragamuffins, if they don't come unawares, and that, if they do, one may as well end that way as another; and it would besides serveyouas an advertisement:—
"Man may escape from rope or gun, &c.But he who takes woman, woman, woman, &c.
"Man may escape from rope or gun, &c.But he who takes woman, woman, woman, &c.
"Yours.
"P.S. I have looked over the press, but heaven knows how. Think what I have on hand and the post going out to-morrow. Do you remember the epitaph on Voltaire?
"'Ci-git l'enfant gâté,' &c."'Here lies the spoilt childOf the world which he spoil'd.'
"'Ci-git l'enfant gâté,' &c.
"'Here lies the spoilt childOf the world which he spoil'd.'
The original is in Grimm and Diderot, &c. &c. &c."
LETTER 374. TO MR. MOORE.
"Ravenna, May 24. 1820."I wrote to you a few days ago. There is also a letter of January last for you at Murray's, which will explain to you why I am here. Murray ought to have forwarded it long ago. I enclose you an epistle from a countrywoman of yours at Paris, which has moved my entrails. You will have the goodness, perhaps, to enquire into the truth of her story, and I will help her as far as I can,—though not in the useless way she proposes. Her letter is evidently unstudied, and so natural, that the orthography is also in a state of nature."Here is a poor creature, ill and solitary, who thinks, as a last resource, of translating you or me into French! Was there ever such a notion? It seems to me the consummation of despair. Pray enquire, and let me know, and, if you could draw a bill on meherefor a few hundred francs, at your banker's, I will duly honour it,—that is, if she is not an impostor.[73]If not, let me know, that I may get something remitted by my banker Longhi, of Bologna, for I have no correspondence myself, at Paris: but tell her she must not translate;—if she does, it will be the height of ingratitude."I had a letter (not of the same kind, but in French and flattery) from a Madame Sophie Gail, of Paris, whom I take to be the spouse of a Gallo-Greek of that name. Who is she? and what is she? and how came she to take an interest in mypoeshieor its author? If you know her, tell her, with my compliments, that, as I onlyreadFrench, I have not answered her letter; but would have done so in Italian, if I had not thought it would look like an affectation. I have just been scolding my monkeyfor tearing the seal of her letter, and spoiling a mock book, in which I put rose leaves. I had a civet-cat the other day, too; but it ran away, after scratching my monkey's cheek, and I am in search of it still. It was the fiercest beast I ever saw, and like * * in the face and manner."I have a world of things to say; but, as they are not come to adénouement, I don't care to begin their history till it is wound up. After you went, I had a fever, but got well again without bark. Sir Humphry Davy was here the other day, and liked Ravenna very much. He will tell you any thing you may wish to know about the place and your humble servitor."Your apprehensions (arising from Scott's) were unfounded. There areno damagesin this country, but there will probably be a separation between them, as her family, which is a principal one, by its connections, are very much againsthim, for the whole of his conduct;—and he is old and obstinate, and she is young and a woman, determined to sacrifice every thing to her affections. I have given her the best advice, viz. to stay with him,—pointing out the state of a separated woman, (for the priests won't let lovers live openly together, unless the husband sanctions it,) and making the most exquisite moral reflections,—but to no purpose. She says, 'I will stay with him, if he will let you remain with me. It is hard that I should be the only woman in Romagna who is not to have her Amico; but, if not, I will not live with him; and as for theconsequences, love, &c. &c. &c.'—you know how females reason on such occasions."He says he has let it go on till he can do so no longer. But he wants her to stay, and dismiss me; for he doesn't like to pay back her dowry and to make an alimony. Her relations are rather for the separation, as they detest him,—indeed, so does every body. The populace and the women are, as usual, all for those who are in the wrong, viz. the lady and her lover. I should have retreated, but honour, and an erysipelas which has attacked her, prevent me,—to say nothing of love, for I love her most entirely, though not enough to persuade her to sacrifice every thing to a frenzy. 'I see how it will end; she will be the sixteenth Mrs. Shuffleton.'"My paper is finished, and so must this letter."Yours ever, B."P.S. I regret that you have not completed the Italian Fudges. Pray, how come you to be still in Paris? Murray has four or five things of mine in hand—the new Don Juan, which his back-shop synod don't admire;—a translation of the first Canto of Pulci's Morgante Maggiore, excellent;—short ditto from Dante, not so much approved; the Prophecy of Dante, very grand and worthy, &c. &c. &c.;—a furious prose answer to Blackwood's Observations on Don Juan, with a savage Defence of Pope—likely to make a row. The opinions above I quote from Murray and his Utican senate;—you will form your own, when you see the things."You will have no great chance of seeing me, forI begin to think I must finish in Italy. But, if you come my way, you shall have a tureen of macaroni. Pray tell me about yourself, and your intents."My trustees are going to lend Earl Blessington sixty thousand pounds (at six per cent.) on a Dublin mortgage. Only think of my becoming an Irish absentee!"
"Ravenna, May 24. 1820.
"I wrote to you a few days ago. There is also a letter of January last for you at Murray's, which will explain to you why I am here. Murray ought to have forwarded it long ago. I enclose you an epistle from a countrywoman of yours at Paris, which has moved my entrails. You will have the goodness, perhaps, to enquire into the truth of her story, and I will help her as far as I can,—though not in the useless way she proposes. Her letter is evidently unstudied, and so natural, that the orthography is also in a state of nature.
"Here is a poor creature, ill and solitary, who thinks, as a last resource, of translating you or me into French! Was there ever such a notion? It seems to me the consummation of despair. Pray enquire, and let me know, and, if you could draw a bill on meherefor a few hundred francs, at your banker's, I will duly honour it,—that is, if she is not an impostor.[73]If not, let me know, that I may get something remitted by my banker Longhi, of Bologna, for I have no correspondence myself, at Paris: but tell her she must not translate;—if she does, it will be the height of ingratitude.
"I had a letter (not of the same kind, but in French and flattery) from a Madame Sophie Gail, of Paris, whom I take to be the spouse of a Gallo-Greek of that name. Who is she? and what is she? and how came she to take an interest in mypoeshieor its author? If you know her, tell her, with my compliments, that, as I onlyreadFrench, I have not answered her letter; but would have done so in Italian, if I had not thought it would look like an affectation. I have just been scolding my monkeyfor tearing the seal of her letter, and spoiling a mock book, in which I put rose leaves. I had a civet-cat the other day, too; but it ran away, after scratching my monkey's cheek, and I am in search of it still. It was the fiercest beast I ever saw, and like * * in the face and manner.
"I have a world of things to say; but, as they are not come to adénouement, I don't care to begin their history till it is wound up. After you went, I had a fever, but got well again without bark. Sir Humphry Davy was here the other day, and liked Ravenna very much. He will tell you any thing you may wish to know about the place and your humble servitor.
"Your apprehensions (arising from Scott's) were unfounded. There areno damagesin this country, but there will probably be a separation between them, as her family, which is a principal one, by its connections, are very much againsthim, for the whole of his conduct;—and he is old and obstinate, and she is young and a woman, determined to sacrifice every thing to her affections. I have given her the best advice, viz. to stay with him,—pointing out the state of a separated woman, (for the priests won't let lovers live openly together, unless the husband sanctions it,) and making the most exquisite moral reflections,—but to no purpose. She says, 'I will stay with him, if he will let you remain with me. It is hard that I should be the only woman in Romagna who is not to have her Amico; but, if not, I will not live with him; and as for theconsequences, love, &c. &c. &c.'—you know how females reason on such occasions.
"He says he has let it go on till he can do so no longer. But he wants her to stay, and dismiss me; for he doesn't like to pay back her dowry and to make an alimony. Her relations are rather for the separation, as they detest him,—indeed, so does every body. The populace and the women are, as usual, all for those who are in the wrong, viz. the lady and her lover. I should have retreated, but honour, and an erysipelas which has attacked her, prevent me,—to say nothing of love, for I love her most entirely, though not enough to persuade her to sacrifice every thing to a frenzy. 'I see how it will end; she will be the sixteenth Mrs. Shuffleton.'
"My paper is finished, and so must this letter.
"Yours ever, B.
"P.S. I regret that you have not completed the Italian Fudges. Pray, how come you to be still in Paris? Murray has four or five things of mine in hand—the new Don Juan, which his back-shop synod don't admire;—a translation of the first Canto of Pulci's Morgante Maggiore, excellent;—short ditto from Dante, not so much approved; the Prophecy of Dante, very grand and worthy, &c. &c. &c.;—a furious prose answer to Blackwood's Observations on Don Juan, with a savage Defence of Pope—likely to make a row. The opinions above I quote from Murray and his Utican senate;—you will form your own, when you see the things.
"You will have no great chance of seeing me, forI begin to think I must finish in Italy. But, if you come my way, you shall have a tureen of macaroni. Pray tell me about yourself, and your intents.
"My trustees are going to lend Earl Blessington sixty thousand pounds (at six per cent.) on a Dublin mortgage. Only think of my becoming an Irish absentee!"
LETTER 375. TO MR. HOPPNER.
"Ravenna, May 25. 1820."A German named Ruppsecht has sent me, heaven knows why, several Deutsche Gazettes, of all which I understand neither word nor letter. I have sent you the enclosed to beg you to translate to me some remarks, which appear to beGoethe's uponManfred—and if I may judge bytwonotes ofadmiration(generally put after something ridiculous by us) and the word 'hypocondrisch,' are any thing but favourable. I shall regret this, for I should have been proud of Goethe's good word; but I sha'n't alter my opinion of him, even though he should be savage."Will you excuse this trouble, and do me this favour?—Never mind—soften nothing—I am literary proof—having had good and evil said in most modern languages."Believe me," &c.
"Ravenna, May 25. 1820.
"A German named Ruppsecht has sent me, heaven knows why, several Deutsche Gazettes, of all which I understand neither word nor letter. I have sent you the enclosed to beg you to translate to me some remarks, which appear to beGoethe's uponManfred—and if I may judge bytwonotes ofadmiration(generally put after something ridiculous by us) and the word 'hypocondrisch,' are any thing but favourable. I shall regret this, for I should have been proud of Goethe's good word; but I sha'n't alter my opinion of him, even though he should be savage.
"Will you excuse this trouble, and do me this favour?—Never mind—soften nothing—I am literary proof—having had good and evil said in most modern languages.
"Believe me," &c.
LETTER 376. TO MR. MOORE.
"Ravenna, June 1. 1820,"I have received a Parisian letter from W.W., which I prefer answering through you, if that worthybe still at Paris, and, as he says, an occasional visiter of yours. In November last he wrote to me a well-meaning letter, stating, for some reasons of his own, his belief that a re-union might be effected between Lady B. and myself. To this I answered as usual; and he sent me a second letter, repeating his notions, which letter I have never answered, having had a thousand other things to think of. He now writes as if he believed that he had offended me by touching on the topic; and I wish you to assure him that I am not at all so,—but, on the contrary, obliged by his good nature. At the same time acquaint him thething is impossible. You know this, as well as I,—and there let it end."I believe that I showed you his epistle in autumn last. He asks me if I have heard ofmy'laureat' at Paris[74],—somebody who has written 'a most sanguinary Epître' against me; but whether in French, or Dutch, or on what score, I know not, and he don't say,—except that (for my satisfaction) he says it is the best thing in the fellow's volume. If there is any thing of the kind that Ioughtto know, you will doubtless tell me. I suppose it to be something of the usual sort;—he says, he don't remember the author's name."I wrote to you some ten days ago, and expect an answer at your leisure."The separation business still continues, and all the world are implicated, including priests and cardinals. The public opinion is furious againsthim, because he ought to have cut the matter shortat first, and not waited twelve months to begin. He has been trying at evidence, but can get nonesufficient; for what would make fifty divorces in England won't do here—there must be themost decidedproofs."It is the first cause of the kind attempted in Ravenna for these two hundred years; for, though they often separate, they assign a different motive. You know that the continental incontinent are more delicate than the English, and don't like proclaiming their coronation in a court, even when nobody doubts it."All her relations are furious against him. The father has challenged him—a superfluous valour, for he don't fight, though suspected of two assassinations—one of the famous Monzoni of Forli. Warning was given me not to take such long rides in the Pine Forest without being on my guard; so I take my stiletto and a pair of pistols in my pocket during my daily rides."I won't stir from this place till the matter is settled one way or the other. She is as femininely firm as possible; and the opinion is so much against him, that theadvocatesdecline to undertake his cause, because they say that he is either a fool or a rogue—fool, if he did not discover the liaison till now; and rogue, if he did know it, and waited, for some bad end, to divulge it. In short, there has been nothing like it since the days of Guido di Polenta's family, in these parts."If the man has me taken off, like Polonius 'say, hemade a good end,'—for a melodrama. The principal security is, that he has not the courage to spend twenty scudi—the average price of a clean-handed bravo—otherwise there is no want of opportunity, for I ride about the woods every evening, with one servant, and sometimes an acquaintance, who latterly looks a little queer in solitary bits of bushes."Good bye.—Write to yours ever," &c.
"Ravenna, June 1. 1820,
"I have received a Parisian letter from W.W., which I prefer answering through you, if that worthybe still at Paris, and, as he says, an occasional visiter of yours. In November last he wrote to me a well-meaning letter, stating, for some reasons of his own, his belief that a re-union might be effected between Lady B. and myself. To this I answered as usual; and he sent me a second letter, repeating his notions, which letter I have never answered, having had a thousand other things to think of. He now writes as if he believed that he had offended me by touching on the topic; and I wish you to assure him that I am not at all so,—but, on the contrary, obliged by his good nature. At the same time acquaint him thething is impossible. You know this, as well as I,—and there let it end.
"I believe that I showed you his epistle in autumn last. He asks me if I have heard ofmy'laureat' at Paris[74],—somebody who has written 'a most sanguinary Epître' against me; but whether in French, or Dutch, or on what score, I know not, and he don't say,—except that (for my satisfaction) he says it is the best thing in the fellow's volume. If there is any thing of the kind that Ioughtto know, you will doubtless tell me. I suppose it to be something of the usual sort;—he says, he don't remember the author's name.
"I wrote to you some ten days ago, and expect an answer at your leisure.
"The separation business still continues, and all the world are implicated, including priests and cardinals. The public opinion is furious againsthim, because he ought to have cut the matter shortat first, and not waited twelve months to begin. He has been trying at evidence, but can get nonesufficient; for what would make fifty divorces in England won't do here—there must be themost decidedproofs.
"It is the first cause of the kind attempted in Ravenna for these two hundred years; for, though they often separate, they assign a different motive. You know that the continental incontinent are more delicate than the English, and don't like proclaiming their coronation in a court, even when nobody doubts it.
"All her relations are furious against him. The father has challenged him—a superfluous valour, for he don't fight, though suspected of two assassinations—one of the famous Monzoni of Forli. Warning was given me not to take such long rides in the Pine Forest without being on my guard; so I take my stiletto and a pair of pistols in my pocket during my daily rides.
"I won't stir from this place till the matter is settled one way or the other. She is as femininely firm as possible; and the opinion is so much against him, that theadvocatesdecline to undertake his cause, because they say that he is either a fool or a rogue—fool, if he did not discover the liaison till now; and rogue, if he did know it, and waited, for some bad end, to divulge it. In short, there has been nothing like it since the days of Guido di Polenta's family, in these parts.
"If the man has me taken off, like Polonius 'say, hemade a good end,'—for a melodrama. The principal security is, that he has not the courage to spend twenty scudi—the average price of a clean-handed bravo—otherwise there is no want of opportunity, for I ride about the woods every evening, with one servant, and sometimes an acquaintance, who latterly looks a little queer in solitary bits of bushes.
"Good bye.—Write to yours ever," &c.
LETTER 377. TO MR. MURRAY.
"Ravenna, June 7. 1820."Enclosed is something which will interest you, to wit, the opinion ofthegreatest man of Germany—perhaps of Europe—upon one of the great men of your advertisements, (all 'famous hands,' as Jacob Tonson used to say of his ragamuffins,)—in short, a critique ofGoethe'suponManfred. There is the original, an English translation, and an Italian one; keep them all in your archives,—for the opinions of such a man as Goethe, whether favourable or not, are always interesting—and this is more so, as favourable. HisFaustI never read, for I don't know German; but Matthew Monk Lewis, in 1816, at Coligny, translated most of it to mevivâ voce, and I was naturally much struck with it; but it was theSteinbachand theJungfrau, and something else, much more than Faustus, that made me write Manfred. The first scene, however, and that of Faustus are very similar. Acknowledge this letter."Yours ever."P.S. I have receivedIvanhoe;—good. Pray send me some tooth-powder and tincture of myrrh, byWaite, &c. Ricciardetto should have beentranslated literally, or not at all. As to puffingWhistlecraft, itwon'tdo. I'll tell you why some day or other. Cornwall's a poet, but spoilt by the detestable schools of the day. Mrs. Hemans is a poet also, but too stiltified and apostrophic,—and quite wrong. Men died calmly before the Christian era, and since, without Christianity: witness the Romans, and, lately, Thistlewood, Sandt, and Lovel—men who ought to have been weighed down with their crimes, even had they believed. A deathbed is a matter of nerves and constitution, and not of religion. Voltaire was frightened, Frederick of Prussia not: Christians the same, according to their strength rather than their creed. What does H * * H * * mean by his stanza? which is octave got drunk or gone mad. He ought to have his ears boxed with Thor's hammer for rhyming so fantastically."
"Ravenna, June 7. 1820.
"Enclosed is something which will interest you, to wit, the opinion ofthegreatest man of Germany—perhaps of Europe—upon one of the great men of your advertisements, (all 'famous hands,' as Jacob Tonson used to say of his ragamuffins,)—in short, a critique ofGoethe'suponManfred. There is the original, an English translation, and an Italian one; keep them all in your archives,—for the opinions of such a man as Goethe, whether favourable or not, are always interesting—and this is more so, as favourable. HisFaustI never read, for I don't know German; but Matthew Monk Lewis, in 1816, at Coligny, translated most of it to mevivâ voce, and I was naturally much struck with it; but it was theSteinbachand theJungfrau, and something else, much more than Faustus, that made me write Manfred. The first scene, however, and that of Faustus are very similar. Acknowledge this letter.
"Yours ever.
"P.S. I have receivedIvanhoe;—good. Pray send me some tooth-powder and tincture of myrrh, byWaite, &c. Ricciardetto should have beentranslated literally, or not at all. As to puffingWhistlecraft, itwon'tdo. I'll tell you why some day or other. Cornwall's a poet, but spoilt by the detestable schools of the day. Mrs. Hemans is a poet also, but too stiltified and apostrophic,—and quite wrong. Men died calmly before the Christian era, and since, without Christianity: witness the Romans, and, lately, Thistlewood, Sandt, and Lovel—men who ought to have been weighed down with their crimes, even had they believed. A deathbed is a matter of nerves and constitution, and not of religion. Voltaire was frightened, Frederick of Prussia not: Christians the same, according to their strength rather than their creed. What does H * * H * * mean by his stanza? which is octave got drunk or gone mad. He ought to have his ears boxed with Thor's hammer for rhyming so fantastically."
The following is the article from Goethe's "Kunst und Alterthum," enclosed in this letter. The grave confidence with which the venerable critic traces the fancies of his brother poet to real persons and events, making no difficulty even of a double murder at Florence to furnish grounds for his theory, affords an amusing instance of the disposition so prevalent throughout Europe, to picture Byron as a man of marvels and mysteries, as well in his life as his poetry. To these exaggerated, or wholly false notions of him, the numerous fictions palmed upon theworld of his romantic tours and wonderful adventures in places he never saw, and with persons that never existed[75], have, no doubt, considerably contributed; and the consequence is, so utterly out of truth and nature are the representations of his life and character long current upon the Continent, that it may be questioned whether the real "flesh and blood" hero of these pages,—the social, practical-minded, and, with all his faults and eccentricities,EnglishLord Byron,—may not, to the over-exalted imaginations of most of his foreign admirers, appear but an ordinary, unromantic, and prosaic personage.
"GOETHE ON MANFRED.
[1820.]
"Byron's tragedy, Manfred, was to me a wonderful phenomenon, and one that closely touched me. This singular intellectual poet has taken my Faustus to himself, and extracted from it the strongest nourishment for his hypochondriac humour. He has made use of the impelling principles in his own way,for his own purposes, so that no one of them remains the same; and it is particularly on this account that I cannot enough admire his genius. The whole is in this way so completely formed anew, that it would be an interesting task for the critic to point out not only the alterations he has made, but their degree of resemblance with, or dissimilarity to, the original: in the course of which I cannot deny that the gloomy heat of an unbounded and exuberant despair becomes at last oppressive to us. Yet is the dissatisfaction we feel always connected with esteem and admiration.
"We find thus in this tragedy the quintessence of the most astonishing talent born to be its own tormentor. The character of Lord Byron's life and poetry hardly permits a just and equitable appreciation. He has often enough confessed what it is that torments him. He has repeatedly pourtrayed it; and scarcely any one feels compassion for this intolerable suffering, over which he is ever laboriously ruminating. There are, properly speaking, two females whose phantoms for ever haunt him, and which, in this piece also, perform principal parts—one under the name of Astarte, the other without form or actual presence, and merely a voice. Of the horrid occurrence which took place with the former, the following is related:—When a bold and enterprising young man, he won the affections of a Florentine lady. Her husband discovered the amour, and murdered his wife; but the murderer was the same night found dead in the street, and there wasno one on whom any suspicion could be attached. Lord Byron removed from Florence, and these spirits haunted him all his life after.
"This romantic incident is rendered highly probable by innumerable allusions to it in his poems. As, for instance, when turning his sad contemplations inwards, he applies to himself the fatal history of the king of Sparta. It is as follows:—Pausanias, a Lacedemonian general, acquires glory by the important victory at Platæa, but afterwards forfeits the confidence of his countrymen through his arrogance, obstinacy, and secret intrigues with the enemies of his country. This man draws upon himself the heavy guilt of innocent blood, which attends him to his end; for, while commanding the fleet of the allied Greeks, in the Black Sea, he is inflamed with a violent passion for a Byzantine maiden. After long resistance, he at length obtains her from her parents, and she is to be delivered up to him at night. She modestly desires the servant to put out the lamp, and, while groping her way in the dark, she overturns it. Pausanias is awakened from his sleep—apprehensive of an attack from murderers, he seizes his sword, and destroys his mistress. The horrid sight never leaves him. Her shade pursues him unceasingly, and he implores for aid in vain from the gods and the exorcising priests.
"That poet must have a lacerated heart who selects such a scene from antiquity, appropriates it to himself, and burdens his tragic image with it. The following soliloquy, which is overladen with gloom and a weariness of life, is, by this remark, rendered intelligible. We recommend it as an exercise to all friends of declamation. Hamlet's soliloquy appears improved upon here."[76]
LETTER 378. TO MR. MOORE.