"Ravenna, May 28. 1821."Since my last of the 26th or 25th, I have dashed off my fifth act of the tragedy called 'Sardanapalus.' But now comes the copying over, which may prove heavy work—heavy to the writer as to the reader. I have written to you at least six times sans answer, which proves you to be a—bookseller. I pray you to send me a copy of Mr.Wrangham's reformation of 'Langhorne's Plutarch.' I have the Greek, which is somewhat small of print, and the Italian, which is too heavy in style, and asfalse as a Neapolitan patriot proclamation. I pray you also to send me a Life, published some years ago, of theMagician Apolloniusof Tyana. It is in English, and I think edited or written by what Martin Marprelate calls 'a bouncing priest.' I shall trouble you no farther with this sheet than with the postage. Yours, &c. N."P.S. Since I wrote this, I determined to enclose it (as a half sheet) to Mr. Kinnaird, who will have the goodness to forward it. Besides, it saves sealing-wax."
"Ravenna, May 28. 1821.
"Since my last of the 26th or 25th, I have dashed off my fifth act of the tragedy called 'Sardanapalus.' But now comes the copying over, which may prove heavy work—heavy to the writer as to the reader. I have written to you at least six times sans answer, which proves you to be a—bookseller. I pray you to send me a copy of Mr.Wrangham's reformation of 'Langhorne's Plutarch.' I have the Greek, which is somewhat small of print, and the Italian, which is too heavy in style, and asfalse as a Neapolitan patriot proclamation. I pray you also to send me a Life, published some years ago, of theMagician Apolloniusof Tyana. It is in English, and I think edited or written by what Martin Marprelate calls 'a bouncing priest.' I shall trouble you no farther with this sheet than with the postage. Yours, &c. N.
"P.S. Since I wrote this, I determined to enclose it (as a half sheet) to Mr. Kinnaird, who will have the goodness to forward it. Besides, it saves sealing-wax."
LETTER 432. TO MR. MURRAY.
"Ravenna, May 30. 1821."Dear Moray,"You say you have written often: I have only received yours of the eleventh, which is very short. By this post,fivepackets, I send you the tragedy of Sardanapalus, which is written in a rough hand: perhaps Mrs. Leigh can help you to decipher it. You will please to acknowledge it by return of post. You will remark that theunitiesare allstrictlyobserved. The scene passes in the samehallalways: the time, asummer's night, about nine hours, or less, though it begins before sunset and ends after sun-rise. In the third act, when Sardanapalus calls for amirrorto look at himself in his armour, recollect to quote the Latin passage fromJuvenaluponOtho(a similar character, who did the same thing): Gifford will help you to it. The trait is perhaps too familiar, but it is historical, (ofOtho, at least,) and natural in an effeminate character."
"Ravenna, May 30. 1821.
"Dear Moray,
"You say you have written often: I have only received yours of the eleventh, which is very short. By this post,fivepackets, I send you the tragedy of Sardanapalus, which is written in a rough hand: perhaps Mrs. Leigh can help you to decipher it. You will please to acknowledge it by return of post. You will remark that theunitiesare allstrictlyobserved. The scene passes in the samehallalways: the time, asummer's night, about nine hours, or less, though it begins before sunset and ends after sun-rise. In the third act, when Sardanapalus calls for amirrorto look at himself in his armour, recollect to quote the Latin passage fromJuvenaluponOtho(a similar character, who did the same thing): Gifford will help you to it. The trait is perhaps too familiar, but it is historical, (ofOtho, at least,) and natural in an effeminate character."
LETTER 433. TO MR. HOPPNER.
"Ravenna, May 31. 1821."I enclose you another letter, which will only confirm what I have said to you."About Allegra'—I will take some decisive step in the course of the year; at present, she is so happy where she is, that perhaps she had better have heralphabetimparted in her convent."What you say of theDanteis the first I have heard of it—all seeming to be merged in therowabout the tragedy. Continue it!—Alas! what could Dante himselfnowprophesy about Italy? I am glad you like it, however, but doubt that you will be singular in your opinion. Mynewtragedy is completed."The B * * isright,—I ought to have mentioned herhumourandamiability, but I thought at hersixty, beauty would be most agreeable or least likely. However, it shall be rectified in a new edition; and if any of the parties have either looks or qualities which they wish to be noticed, let me have a minute of them. I have no private nor personal dislike toVenice, rather the contrary, but I merely speak of what is the subject of all remarks and all writers upon her present state. Let me hear from you before you start."Believe me, ever, &c."P.S. Did you receive two letters of Douglas Kinnaird's in an endorse from me? Remember me to Mengaldo, Soranzo, and all who care that I should remember them. The letter alluded to in the enclosed, 'to theCardinal,' was in answer to some queries of the government, about a poor devil of a Neapolitan, arrested at Sinigaglia on suspicion, who came to beg of me here; being without breeches, and consequently without pockets for halfpence, I relieved and forwarded him to his country, and they arrested him at Pesaro on suspicion, and have since interrogated me (civilly and politely, however,) about him. I sent them the poor man's petition, and such information as I had about him, which I trust will get him out again, that is to say, if they give him a fair hearing."Iamcontent with the article. Pray, did you receive, some posts ago, Moore's lines which I enclosed to you, written at Paris?"
"Ravenna, May 31. 1821.
"I enclose you another letter, which will only confirm what I have said to you.
"About Allegra'—I will take some decisive step in the course of the year; at present, she is so happy where she is, that perhaps she had better have heralphabetimparted in her convent.
"What you say of theDanteis the first I have heard of it—all seeming to be merged in therowabout the tragedy. Continue it!—Alas! what could Dante himselfnowprophesy about Italy? I am glad you like it, however, but doubt that you will be singular in your opinion. Mynewtragedy is completed.
"The B * * isright,—I ought to have mentioned herhumourandamiability, but I thought at hersixty, beauty would be most agreeable or least likely. However, it shall be rectified in a new edition; and if any of the parties have either looks or qualities which they wish to be noticed, let me have a minute of them. I have no private nor personal dislike toVenice, rather the contrary, but I merely speak of what is the subject of all remarks and all writers upon her present state. Let me hear from you before you start.
"Believe me, ever, &c.
"P.S. Did you receive two letters of Douglas Kinnaird's in an endorse from me? Remember me to Mengaldo, Soranzo, and all who care that I should remember them. The letter alluded to in the enclosed, 'to theCardinal,' was in answer to some queries of the government, about a poor devil of a Neapolitan, arrested at Sinigaglia on suspicion, who came to beg of me here; being without breeches, and consequently without pockets for halfpence, I relieved and forwarded him to his country, and they arrested him at Pesaro on suspicion, and have since interrogated me (civilly and politely, however,) about him. I sent them the poor man's petition, and such information as I had about him, which I trust will get him out again, that is to say, if they give him a fair hearing.
"Iamcontent with the article. Pray, did you receive, some posts ago, Moore's lines which I enclosed to you, written at Paris?"
LETTER 434. TO MR. MOORE.
"Ravenna, June 4. 1821."You have not written lately, as is the usual custom with literary gentlemen, to console their friends with their observations in cases of magnitude. I do not know whether I sent you my 'Elegy on therecoveryof Lady * *:'—"Behold the blessings of a lucky lot—My play is damn'd, and Lady * *not."The papers (and perhaps your letters) will have put you in possession of Muster Elliston's dramatic behaviour. It is to be presumed that the play wasfittedfor the stage by Mr. Dibdin, who is the tailor upon such occasions, and will have taken measurewith his usual accuracy. I hear that it is still continued to be performed—a piece of obstinacy for which it is some consolation to think that the discourteous histrio will be out of pocket."You will be surprised to hear that I have finished another tragedy infiveacts, observing all the unities strictly. It is called 'Sardanapalus,' and was sent by last post to England. It isnot forthe stage, any more than the other was intended for it—and I shall take better carethistime that they don't get hold on't."I have also sent, two months ago, a further letter on Bowles, &c.; but he seems to be so taken up with my 'respect' (as he calls it) towards him in the former case, that I am not sure that it will be published, being somewhat too full of' pastime and prodigality.' I learn from some private letters of Bowles's, thatyouwere 'the gentleman in asterisks.' Who would have dreamed it? you see what mischief that clergyman has done by printing notes without names. How the deuce was I to suppose that the first four asterisks meant 'Campbell' andnot'Pope,' and that the blank signature meant Thomas Moore[39]? You see what comes of beingfamiliar with parsons. His answers have not yet reached me, but I understand from Hobhouse, thathe(H.) is attacked in them. If that be the case, Bowles has broken the truce, (which he himself proclaimed, by the way,) and I must have at him again."Did you receive my letters with the two or three concluding sheets of Memoranda?"There are no news here to interest much. A German spy (boastinghimself such) was stabbed last week, butnotmortally. The moment I heard that he went about bullying and boasting, it was easy for me, or any one else, to foretell what would occur to him, which I did, and it came to pass in two days after. He has got off, however, for a slight incision."A row the other night, about a lady of the place, between her various lovers, occasioned a midnight discharge of pistols, but nobody wounded. Great scandal, however—planted by her lover—to bethrashed by her husband, for inconstancy to her regular Servente, who is coming home post about it, and she herself retired in confusion into the country, although it is the acme of the opera season. All the women furious against her (she herself having been censorious) for beingfound out. She is a pretty woman—a Countess * * * *—a fine old Visigoth name, or Ostrogoth."The Greeks! what think you? They are my old acquaintances—but what to think I know not. Let us hope howsomever."Yours,"B."
"Ravenna, June 4. 1821.
"You have not written lately, as is the usual custom with literary gentlemen, to console their friends with their observations in cases of magnitude. I do not know whether I sent you my 'Elegy on therecoveryof Lady * *:'—
"Behold the blessings of a lucky lot—My play is damn'd, and Lady * *not.
"Behold the blessings of a lucky lot—My play is damn'd, and Lady * *not.
"The papers (and perhaps your letters) will have put you in possession of Muster Elliston's dramatic behaviour. It is to be presumed that the play wasfittedfor the stage by Mr. Dibdin, who is the tailor upon such occasions, and will have taken measurewith his usual accuracy. I hear that it is still continued to be performed—a piece of obstinacy for which it is some consolation to think that the discourteous histrio will be out of pocket.
"You will be surprised to hear that I have finished another tragedy infiveacts, observing all the unities strictly. It is called 'Sardanapalus,' and was sent by last post to England. It isnot forthe stage, any more than the other was intended for it—and I shall take better carethistime that they don't get hold on't.
"I have also sent, two months ago, a further letter on Bowles, &c.; but he seems to be so taken up with my 'respect' (as he calls it) towards him in the former case, that I am not sure that it will be published, being somewhat too full of' pastime and prodigality.' I learn from some private letters of Bowles's, thatyouwere 'the gentleman in asterisks.' Who would have dreamed it? you see what mischief that clergyman has done by printing notes without names. How the deuce was I to suppose that the first four asterisks meant 'Campbell' andnot'Pope,' and that the blank signature meant Thomas Moore[39]? You see what comes of beingfamiliar with parsons. His answers have not yet reached me, but I understand from Hobhouse, thathe(H.) is attacked in them. If that be the case, Bowles has broken the truce, (which he himself proclaimed, by the way,) and I must have at him again.
"Did you receive my letters with the two or three concluding sheets of Memoranda?
"There are no news here to interest much. A German spy (boastinghimself such) was stabbed last week, butnotmortally. The moment I heard that he went about bullying and boasting, it was easy for me, or any one else, to foretell what would occur to him, which I did, and it came to pass in two days after. He has got off, however, for a slight incision.
"A row the other night, about a lady of the place, between her various lovers, occasioned a midnight discharge of pistols, but nobody wounded. Great scandal, however—planted by her lover—to bethrashed by her husband, for inconstancy to her regular Servente, who is coming home post about it, and she herself retired in confusion into the country, although it is the acme of the opera season. All the women furious against her (she herself having been censorious) for beingfound out. She is a pretty woman—a Countess * * * *—a fine old Visigoth name, or Ostrogoth.
"The Greeks! what think you? They are my old acquaintances—but what to think I know not. Let us hope howsomever.
"Yours,
"B."
LETTER 435. TO MR. MOORE.
"Ravenna, June 22. 1821."Your dwarf of a letter came yesterday. That is right;—keep to your 'magnum opus '—magnoperate away. Now, if we were but together a little to combine our 'Journal of Trevoux!' But it is useless to sigh, and yet very natural,—for I think you and I draw better together, in the social line, than any two other living authors."I forgot to ask you, if you had seen your own panegyric in the correspondence of Mrs. Waterhouse and Colonel Berkeley? To be suretheirmoral is not quite exact; butyour passionis fully effective; and all poetry of the Asiatic kind—I mean Asiatic, as the Romans calledAsiaticoratory,' and not because the scenery is Oriental—must be tried by that test only. I am not quite sure that I shall allow the Miss Byrons (legitimate or illegitimate) to read Lalla Rookh—in the first place, on account of this saidpassion; and, in the second, that they mayn't discover that there was a better poet than papa."You say nothing of politics—but, alas! what can be said?"The world is a bundle of hay,Mankind are the asses who pull,Each tugs it a different way,—And the greatest of all is John Bull!"How do you call your new project? I have sent Murray a new tragedy, ycleped 'Sardanapalus,' writ according to Aristotle—all, save the chorus—could not reconcile me to that. I have begun another, and am in the second act;—so you see I saunter on as usual."Bowles's answers have reached me; but I can't go on disputing for ever,—particularly in a polite manner. I suppose he will take beingsilentforsilenced. He has been so civil that I can't find it in my liver to be facetious with him,—else I had a savage joke or two at his service. * * *"I can't send you the little journal, because it is in boards, and I can't trust it per post. Don't suppose it is any thing particular; but it will show theintentionsof the natives at that time—and one or two other things, chiefly personal, like the former one."So, Longman don'tbite.—It was my wish to have made that work of use. Could you not raise a sum upon it (however small), reserving the power of redeeming it, on repayment?"Are you in Paris, or a villaging? If you are in the city, you will never resist the Anglo-invasion you speak of. I do not see an Englishman in half a year, and, when I do, I turn my horse's head the other way. The fact, which you will find in the last note to the Doge, has given me a good excuse for quite dropping the least connection with travellers."I do not recollect the speech you speak of, but suspect it is not the Doge's, but one of Israel Bertuccio to Calendaro. I hope you think that Elliston behaved shamefully—it is my only consolation. I made the Milanese fellows contradict their lie, which they did with the grace of people used to it."Yours, &c."B."
"Ravenna, June 22. 1821.
"Your dwarf of a letter came yesterday. That is right;—keep to your 'magnum opus '—magnoperate away. Now, if we were but together a little to combine our 'Journal of Trevoux!' But it is useless to sigh, and yet very natural,—for I think you and I draw better together, in the social line, than any two other living authors.
"I forgot to ask you, if you had seen your own panegyric in the correspondence of Mrs. Waterhouse and Colonel Berkeley? To be suretheirmoral is not quite exact; butyour passionis fully effective; and all poetry of the Asiatic kind—I mean Asiatic, as the Romans calledAsiaticoratory,' and not because the scenery is Oriental—must be tried by that test only. I am not quite sure that I shall allow the Miss Byrons (legitimate or illegitimate) to read Lalla Rookh—in the first place, on account of this saidpassion; and, in the second, that they mayn't discover that there was a better poet than papa.
"You say nothing of politics—but, alas! what can be said?
"The world is a bundle of hay,Mankind are the asses who pull,Each tugs it a different way,—And the greatest of all is John Bull!
"The world is a bundle of hay,Mankind are the asses who pull,Each tugs it a different way,—And the greatest of all is John Bull!
"How do you call your new project? I have sent Murray a new tragedy, ycleped 'Sardanapalus,' writ according to Aristotle—all, save the chorus—could not reconcile me to that. I have begun another, and am in the second act;—so you see I saunter on as usual.
"Bowles's answers have reached me; but I can't go on disputing for ever,—particularly in a polite manner. I suppose he will take beingsilentforsilenced. He has been so civil that I can't find it in my liver to be facetious with him,—else I had a savage joke or two at his service. * * *
"I can't send you the little journal, because it is in boards, and I can't trust it per post. Don't suppose it is any thing particular; but it will show theintentionsof the natives at that time—and one or two other things, chiefly personal, like the former one.
"So, Longman don'tbite.—It was my wish to have made that work of use. Could you not raise a sum upon it (however small), reserving the power of redeeming it, on repayment?
"Are you in Paris, or a villaging? If you are in the city, you will never resist the Anglo-invasion you speak of. I do not see an Englishman in half a year, and, when I do, I turn my horse's head the other way. The fact, which you will find in the last note to the Doge, has given me a good excuse for quite dropping the least connection with travellers.
"I do not recollect the speech you speak of, but suspect it is not the Doge's, but one of Israel Bertuccio to Calendaro. I hope you think that Elliston behaved shamefully—it is my only consolation. I made the Milanese fellows contradict their lie, which they did with the grace of people used to it.
"Yours, &c.
"B."
LETTER 436. TO MR. MOORE.
"Ravenna, July 5. 1821."How could you suppose that I ever would allow any thing thatcouldbe said on your account to weigh withme? I only regret that Bowles had notsaidthat you were the writer of that note, until afterwards, when out he comes with it, in a private letter to Murray, which Murray sends to me. D——n the controversy!"D——n Twizzle,D——n the bell,And d——n the fool who rung it—Well!From all such plagues I'll quickly be deliver'd."I have had a friend of your Mr. Irving's—a very pretty lad—a Mr. Coolidge, of Boston—only somewhat too full of poesy and 'entusymusy.' I was very civil to him during his few hours' stay, and talked with him much of Irving, whose writings are my delight. But I suspect that he did not take quite so much to me, from his having expected to meet a misanthropical gentleman, in wolf-skin breeches, and answering in fierce monosyllables,instead of a man of this world. I can never get people to understand that poetry is the expression ofexcited passion, and that there is no such thing as a life of passion any more than a continuous earthquake, or an eternal fever. Besides, who would evershavethemselves in such a state?"I have had a curious letter to-day from a girl in England (I never saw her), who says she is given over of a decline, but could not go out of the world without thanking me for the delight which my poesy for several years, &c. &c. &c. It is signed simply N.N. A. and has not a word of 'cant' or preachment in it uponanyopinions. She merely says that she is dying, and that as I had contributed so highly to her existing pleasure, she thought that she might say so, begging me toburnherletter—which, by the way, I cannotdo, as I look upon such a letter in such circumstances as better than a diploma from Gottingen. I once had a letter from Drontheim, inNorway(but not from a dying woman), in verse, on the same score of gratulation. These are the things which make one at times believe one's self a poet. But if I must believe that * * * * * and such fellows, are poets also, it is better to be out of the corps."I am now in the fifth act of 'Foscari,' being the third tragedy in twelve months, besidesproses; so you perceive that I am not at all idle. And are you, too, busy? I doubt that your life at Paris draws too much upon your time, which is a pity. Can't you divide your day, so as to combine both? I have had plenty of all sorts of worldly business onmy hands last year, and yet it is not so difficult to give a few hours to the Muses. This sentence is so like * * * * that ——"Ever, &c."If we were together, I should publish both my plays (periodically) in ourjointjournal. It should be our plan to publish all our best things in that way."
"Ravenna, July 5. 1821.
"How could you suppose that I ever would allow any thing thatcouldbe said on your account to weigh withme? I only regret that Bowles had notsaidthat you were the writer of that note, until afterwards, when out he comes with it, in a private letter to Murray, which Murray sends to me. D——n the controversy!
"D——n Twizzle,D——n the bell,And d——n the fool who rung it—Well!From all such plagues I'll quickly be deliver'd.
"D——n Twizzle,D——n the bell,And d——n the fool who rung it—Well!From all such plagues I'll quickly be deliver'd.
"I have had a friend of your Mr. Irving's—a very pretty lad—a Mr. Coolidge, of Boston—only somewhat too full of poesy and 'entusymusy.' I was very civil to him during his few hours' stay, and talked with him much of Irving, whose writings are my delight. But I suspect that he did not take quite so much to me, from his having expected to meet a misanthropical gentleman, in wolf-skin breeches, and answering in fierce monosyllables,instead of a man of this world. I can never get people to understand that poetry is the expression ofexcited passion, and that there is no such thing as a life of passion any more than a continuous earthquake, or an eternal fever. Besides, who would evershavethemselves in such a state?
"I have had a curious letter to-day from a girl in England (I never saw her), who says she is given over of a decline, but could not go out of the world without thanking me for the delight which my poesy for several years, &c. &c. &c. It is signed simply N.N. A. and has not a word of 'cant' or preachment in it uponanyopinions. She merely says that she is dying, and that as I had contributed so highly to her existing pleasure, she thought that she might say so, begging me toburnherletter—which, by the way, I cannotdo, as I look upon such a letter in such circumstances as better than a diploma from Gottingen. I once had a letter from Drontheim, inNorway(but not from a dying woman), in verse, on the same score of gratulation. These are the things which make one at times believe one's self a poet. But if I must believe that * * * * * and such fellows, are poets also, it is better to be out of the corps.
"I am now in the fifth act of 'Foscari,' being the third tragedy in twelve months, besidesproses; so you perceive that I am not at all idle. And are you, too, busy? I doubt that your life at Paris draws too much upon your time, which is a pity. Can't you divide your day, so as to combine both? I have had plenty of all sorts of worldly business onmy hands last year, and yet it is not so difficult to give a few hours to the Muses. This sentence is so like * * * * that ——
"Ever, &c.
"If we were together, I should publish both my plays (periodically) in ourjointjournal. It should be our plan to publish all our best things in that way."
In the Journal entitled "Detached Thoughts," I find the tribute to his genius which he here mentions, as well as some others, thus interestingly dwelt upon.
"As far as fame goes (that is to say,livingfame) I have had my share, perhaps—indeed,certainly—more than my deserts.
"Some odd instances have occurred to my own experience, of the wild and strange places to which a name may penetrate, and where it may impress. Two years ago (almost three, being in August or July, 1819,) I received at Ravenna a letter, inEnglishverse, fromDrontheimin Norway, written by a Norwegian, and full of the usual compliments, &c. &c. It is still somewhere amongst my papers. In the same month I received an invitation intoHolsteinfrom a Mr. Jacobsen (I think) of Hamburgh: also, by the same medium, a translation of Medora's song in The Corsair by a Westphalian baroness (not'Thunderton-Tronck'), with some original verses of hers (very pretty and Klopstock-ish), and a prose translation annexed to them, on the subject of my wife:—as they concerned her more than me. I sentthem to her, together with Mr. Jacobsen's letter. It was odd enough to receive an invitation to pass thesummerinHolsteinwhile inItaly, from people I never knew. The letter was addressed to Venice. Mr. Jacobsen talked to me of the 'wild roses growing in the Holstein summer.' Why then did the Cimbri and Teutones emigrate?
"What a strange thing is life and man! Were I to present myself at the door of the house where my daughter now is, the door would be shut in my face—unless (as is not impossible) I knocked down the porter; and if I had gone in that year (and perhaps now) to Drontheim (the furthest town in Norway), or into Holstein, I should have been received with open arms into the mansion of strangers and foreigners, attached to me by no tie but that of mind and rumour.
"As far asfamegoes, I have had my share: it has indeed been leavened by other human contingencies, and this in a greater degree than has occurred to most literary men of adecentrank in life; but, on the whole, I take it that such equipoise is the condition of humanity."
Of the visit, too, of the American gentleman, he thus speaks in the same Journal.
"A young American, named Coolidge, called on me not many months ago. He was intelligent, very handsome, and not more than twenty years old, according to appearances; a little romantic, but that sits well upon youth, and mighty fond of poesy, as may be suspected from his approaching me in my cavern. He brought me a message from an oldservant of my family (Joe Murray), and told me thathe(Mr. Coolidge) had obtained a copy of my bust from Thorwaldsen at Rome, to send to America. I confess I was more flattered by this young enthusiasm of a solitary trans-Atlantic traveller, than if they had decreed me a statue in the Paris Pantheon (I have seen emperors and demagogues cast down from their pedestals even in my own time, and Grattan's name rased from the street called after him in Dublin); I say that I was more flattered by it, because it wassingle, unpolitical, and was without motive or ostentation,—the pure and warm feeling of a boy for the poet he admired. It must have been expensive, though;—Iwould not pay the price of a Thorwaldsen bust for any human head and shoulders, except Napoleon's, or my children's, or some 'absurd womankind's,' as Monkbarns calls them,—or my sister's. If askedwhy, then, I sat for my own?—Answer, that it was at the particular request of J.C. Hobhouse, Esq. and for no one else. Apictureis a different matter;—every body sits for their picture;—but a bust looks like putting up pretensions to permanency, and smacks something of a hankering forpublicfame rather than private remembrance.
"Whenever an American requests to see me (which is not unfrequently), I comply, firstly, because I respect a people who acquired their freedom by their firmness without excess; and, secondly, because these trans-Atlantic visits, 'few and far between,' make me feel as if talking with posterity from the other side of the Styx. In a century ortwo the new English and Spanish Atlantides will be masters of the old countries, in all probability, as Greece and Europe overcame their mother Asia in the older or earlier ages, as they are called."
LETTER 437. TO MR. MURRAY.
"Ravenna, July 6. 1821."In agreement with a wish expressed by Mr. Hobhouse, it is my determination to omit the stanza upon thehorse of Semiramisin the fifth Canto of Don Juan. I mention this in case you are, or intend to be, the publisher of the remaining Cantos."At the particular request of the Contessa G. I have promisednotto continue Don Juan. You will therefore look upon these three Cantos as the last of the poem. She had read the two first in the French translation, and never ceased beseeching me to write no more of it. The reason of this is not at first obvious to a superficial observer of FOREIGN manners; but it arises from the wish of all women to exalt the sentiment of the passions, and to keep up the illusion which is their empire. Now Don Juan strips off this illusion, and laughs at that and most other things. I never knew a woman who didnotprotectRousseau, nor one who did not dislike De Grammont, Gil Bias, and all the comedy of the passions, when brought out naturally. But 'king's blood must keep word,' as Serjeant Bothwell says."
"Ravenna, July 6. 1821.
"In agreement with a wish expressed by Mr. Hobhouse, it is my determination to omit the stanza upon thehorse of Semiramisin the fifth Canto of Don Juan. I mention this in case you are, or intend to be, the publisher of the remaining Cantos.
"At the particular request of the Contessa G. I have promisednotto continue Don Juan. You will therefore look upon these three Cantos as the last of the poem. She had read the two first in the French translation, and never ceased beseeching me to write no more of it. The reason of this is not at first obvious to a superficial observer of FOREIGN manners; but it arises from the wish of all women to exalt the sentiment of the passions, and to keep up the illusion which is their empire. Now Don Juan strips off this illusion, and laughs at that and most other things. I never knew a woman who didnotprotectRousseau, nor one who did not dislike De Grammont, Gil Bias, and all the comedy of the passions, when brought out naturally. But 'king's blood must keep word,' as Serjeant Bothwell says."
LETTER, 438. TO MR. MURRAY.
"July 14. 1821."I trust that Sardanapalus will not be mistaken for apoliticalplay, which was so far from my intention, that I thought of nothing but Asiatic history. The Venetian play, too, is rigidly historical. My object has been to dramatise, like the Greeks (amodestphrase), striking passages of history, as they did of history and mythology. You will find all this veryunlike Shakspeare; and so much the better in one sense, for I look upon him to be theworstof models[40], though the most extraordinary of writers. It has been my object to be as simple and severe as Alfieri, and I have broken down thepoetryas nearly as I could to common language. The hardship is, that in these times one can neither speak of kings nor queens without suspicion of politics or personalities. I intended neither."I am not very well, and I write in the midst of unpleasant scenes here: they have, without trial or process, banished several of the first inhabitants ofthe cities—here and all around the Roman states—amongst them many of my personal friends, so that every thing is in confusion and grief: it is a kind of thing which cannot be described without an equal pain as in beholding it."You are very niggardly in your letters."Yours truly,"B."
"July 14. 1821.
"I trust that Sardanapalus will not be mistaken for apoliticalplay, which was so far from my intention, that I thought of nothing but Asiatic history. The Venetian play, too, is rigidly historical. My object has been to dramatise, like the Greeks (amodestphrase), striking passages of history, as they did of history and mythology. You will find all this veryunlike Shakspeare; and so much the better in one sense, for I look upon him to be theworstof models[40], though the most extraordinary of writers. It has been my object to be as simple and severe as Alfieri, and I have broken down thepoetryas nearly as I could to common language. The hardship is, that in these times one can neither speak of kings nor queens without suspicion of politics or personalities. I intended neither.
"I am not very well, and I write in the midst of unpleasant scenes here: they have, without trial or process, banished several of the first inhabitants ofthe cities—here and all around the Roman states—amongst them many of my personal friends, so that every thing is in confusion and grief: it is a kind of thing which cannot be described without an equal pain as in beholding it.
"You are very niggardly in your letters.
"Yours truly,
"B."
LETTER 439. TO MR. MURRAY.
"Ravenna, July 22. 1821."The printer has done wonders;—he has read what I cannot—my own handwriting."Iopposethe 'delay till winter:' I am particularly anxious to print while thewinter theatresareclosed, to gain time, in case they try their former piece of politeness. Anylossshall be considered in our contract, whether occasioned by the season or other causes; but print away, and publish."I think they must own that I have morestylesthan one. 'Sardanapalus' is, however, almost a comic character: but, for that matter, so is Richard the Third. Mind theunities, which are my great object of research. I am glad that Gifford likes it: as for 'the million,' you see I have carefully consulted any thing but thetasteof the day for extravagant 'coups de théâtre.' Any probable loss, as I said before, will be allowed for in our accompts. The reviews (except one or two—Blackwood's, for instance) are cold enough; but never mind those fellows: I shall send them to the right about, if I take it into my head. I always found the Englishbaserin some things than any other nation. You stare, but it's true as to gratitude,—perhaps because they are prouder, and proud people hate obligations."The tyranny of the Government here is breaking out. They have exiled about a thousand people of the best families all over the Roman states. As many of my friends are amongst them, I think of moving too, but not till I have had your answers. Continueyour addressto mehere, as usual, and quickly. What you willnotbe sorry to hear is, that thepoorof the place, hearing that I meant to go, got together a petition to the Cardinal to request thathewould request me toremain. I only heard of it a day or two ago, and it is no dishonour to them nor to me; but it will have displeased the higher powers, who look upon me as a Chief of the Coalheavers. They arrested a servant of mine for a street quarrel with an officer (they drew upon one another knives and pistols), but asthe officerwas out of uniform, and in thewrongbesides, on my protesting stoutly, he was released. I was not present at the affray, which happened by night near my stables. My man (an Italian), a very stout and not over-patient personage, would have taken a fatal revenge afterwards, if I had not prevented him. As it was, he drew his stiletto, and, but for passengers, would have carbonadoed the captain, who, I understand, made but a poor figure in the quarrel, except by beginning it. He applied to me, and I offered him any satisfaction, either by turning away the man, or otherwise, because he had drawn a knife. He answered that areproof would be sufficient. I reproved him; and yet, after this, the shabby dog complained to theGovernment,—after being quite satisfied, as he said.Thisroused me, and I gave them a remonstrance which had some effect. The captain has been reprimanded, the servant released, and the business at present rests there."
"Ravenna, July 22. 1821.
"The printer has done wonders;—he has read what I cannot—my own handwriting.
"Iopposethe 'delay till winter:' I am particularly anxious to print while thewinter theatresareclosed, to gain time, in case they try their former piece of politeness. Anylossshall be considered in our contract, whether occasioned by the season or other causes; but print away, and publish.
"I think they must own that I have morestylesthan one. 'Sardanapalus' is, however, almost a comic character: but, for that matter, so is Richard the Third. Mind theunities, which are my great object of research. I am glad that Gifford likes it: as for 'the million,' you see I have carefully consulted any thing but thetasteof the day for extravagant 'coups de théâtre.' Any probable loss, as I said before, will be allowed for in our accompts. The reviews (except one or two—Blackwood's, for instance) are cold enough; but never mind those fellows: I shall send them to the right about, if I take it into my head. I always found the Englishbaserin some things than any other nation. You stare, but it's true as to gratitude,—perhaps because they are prouder, and proud people hate obligations.
"The tyranny of the Government here is breaking out. They have exiled about a thousand people of the best families all over the Roman states. As many of my friends are amongst them, I think of moving too, but not till I have had your answers. Continueyour addressto mehere, as usual, and quickly. What you willnotbe sorry to hear is, that thepoorof the place, hearing that I meant to go, got together a petition to the Cardinal to request thathewould request me toremain. I only heard of it a day or two ago, and it is no dishonour to them nor to me; but it will have displeased the higher powers, who look upon me as a Chief of the Coalheavers. They arrested a servant of mine for a street quarrel with an officer (they drew upon one another knives and pistols), but asthe officerwas out of uniform, and in thewrongbesides, on my protesting stoutly, he was released. I was not present at the affray, which happened by night near my stables. My man (an Italian), a very stout and not over-patient personage, would have taken a fatal revenge afterwards, if I had not prevented him. As it was, he drew his stiletto, and, but for passengers, would have carbonadoed the captain, who, I understand, made but a poor figure in the quarrel, except by beginning it. He applied to me, and I offered him any satisfaction, either by turning away the man, or otherwise, because he had drawn a knife. He answered that areproof would be sufficient. I reproved him; and yet, after this, the shabby dog complained to theGovernment,—after being quite satisfied, as he said.Thisroused me, and I gave them a remonstrance which had some effect. The captain has been reprimanded, the servant released, and the business at present rests there."
Among the victims of the "black sentence and proscription" by which the rulers of Italy were now, as appears from the above letters, avenging their late alarm upon all who had even in the remotest degree contributed to it, the two Gambas were, of course, as suspected Chiefs of the Carbonari of Romagna, included. About the middle of July, Madame Guiccioli, in a state of despair, wrote to inform Lord Byron that her father, in whose palazzo she was at that time residing, had just been ordered to quit Ravenna within twenty-four hours, and that it was the intention of her brother to depart the following morning. The young Count, however, was not permitted to remain even so long, being arrested that very night, and conveyed by soldiers to the frontier; and the Contessa herself, in but a few days after, found that she also must join the crowd of exiles. The prospect of being again separated from her noble friend seems to have rendered banishment little less fearful, in her eyes, than death. "This alone," she says in a letter to him, "was wanting to fill up the measure of my despair. Help me, my dear Byron, for I am in a situation most terrible; and without you, I can resolve upon nothing. * * has just been withme, having been sent by * * to tell me that I must depart from Ravenna before next Tuesday, as my husband has had recourse to Rome, for the purpose of either forcing me to return to him, or else putting me in a convent; and the answer from thence is expected in a few days. I must not speak of this to any one,—I roust escape by night; for, if my project should be discovered, it will be impeded, and my passport (which the goodness of Heaven has permitted me, I know not how, to obtain) will be taken from me. Byron! I am in despair!—If I must leave you here without knowing when I shall see you again, if it is your will that I should suffer so cruelly, I am resolved to remain. They may put me in a convent; I shall die,—but—but then you cannot aid me, and I cannot reproach you. I know not what they tell me, for my agitation overwhelms me;—and why? Not because I fear my present danger, but solely, I call Heaven to witness, solely because I must leave you."
Towards the latter end of July, the writer of this tender and truly feminine letter found herself forced to leave Ravenna,—the home of her youth, as it was, now, of her heart,—uncertain whither to go, or where she should again meet Lord Byron. After lingering for a short time at Bologna, under a faint expectation that the Court of Rome might yet, through some friendly mediation[41], be induced torescind its order against her relatives, she at length gave up all hope, and joined her father and brother at Florence.
It has been already seen, from Lord Byron's letters, that he had himself become an object of strong suspicion to the Government, and it was, indeed, chiefly in their desire to rid themselves of his presence, that the steps taken against the Gamba family had originated;—the constant benevolence which he exercised towards the poor of Ravenna being likely, it was feared, to render him dangerously popular among a people unused to charity on so enlarged a scale. "One of the principal causes," says Madame Guiccioli, "of the exile of my relatives, was in reality the idea that Lord Byron would share the banishment of his friends. Already the Government were averse to Lord Byron's residence at Ravenna; knowing his opinions, fearing his influence, and also exaggerating the extent of his means for giving effect to them. They fancied that he provided money for the purchase of arms, &c. and that he contributed pecuniarily to the wants of the Society. The truth is, that, when called upon to exercise his beneficence, he made no enquiries as to the political and religious opinions of those who required his aid. Every unhappy and needy object had an equal share in his benevolence. The Anti-Liberals, however, insisted upon believing that he was the principal support of Liberalism in Romagna, and were desirous of his departure; but, not daring to exact it by any direct measure, they were in hopes of being able indirectly to force him into this step."[42]
After stating the particulars of her own hasty departure, the lady proceeds:—"Lord Byron, in the mean time, remained at Ravenna, in a town convulsed by party spirit, where he had certainly, on account of his opinions, many fanatical and perfidious enemies; and my imagination always painted him surrounded by a thousand dangers. It may be conceived, therefore, what that journey must have been to me, and what I suffered at such a distance from him. His letters would have given me comfort; but two days always elapsed between his writing and my receiving them; and this idea embittered all the solace they would otherwise have afforded me, so that my heart was torn by the most cruel fears. Yet it was necessary for his own sake that he should remain some time longer at Ravenna, in order that it might not be said that he also was banished. Besides, he had conceived a very great affection for the place itself; and was desirous, before he left it, of exhausting every means and hope of procuring the recall of my relations from banishment[43]."
LETTER 440. TO MR. HOPPNER.
"Ravenna, July 23. 1821."This country being in a state of proscription, and all my friends exiled or arrested—the whole familyof Gamba obliged to go to Florence for the present—the father and son for politics—(and the Guiccioli, because menaced with aconvent, as her father isnothere,) I have determined to remove to Switzerland, and they also. Indeed, my life here is not supposed to be particularly safe—but that has been the case for this twelvemonth past, and is therefore not the primary consideration."I have written by this post to Mr. Hentsch, junior, the banker of Geneva, to provide (if possible) a house for me, and another for Gamba's family, (the father, son, and daughter,) on theJuraside of the lake of Geneva, furnished, and with stabling (formeat least) for eight horses. I shall bring Allegra with me. Could you assist me or Hentsch in his researches? The Gambas are at Florence, but have authorised me to treat for them. You know, or do not know, that they are great patriots—and both—but the son in particular—very fine fellows.ThisI know, for I have seen them lately in very awkward situations—notpecuniary, but personal—and they behaved like heroes, neither yielding nor retracting."You have no idea what a state of oppression this country is in—they arrested above a thousand of high and low throughout Romagna—banished some and confined others, withouttrial,process, or evenaccusation!! Every body says they would have done the same by me if they dared proceed openly. My motive, however, for remaining, is becauseevery oneof my acquaintance, to the amount of hundreds almost, have been exiled."Will you do what you can in looking out for a couple of housesfurnished, and conferring with Hentsch for us? We care nothing about society, and are only anxious for a temporary and tranquil asylum and individual freedom."Believe me, &c."P.S. Can you give me an idea of the comparative expenses of Switzerland and Italy? which I have forgotten. I speak merely of those of decentliving, horses, &c. and not of luxuries or high living. Donot, however, decide any thing positively till I have your answer, as I can then know how to think upon these topics of transmigration, &c. &c. &c."
"Ravenna, July 23. 1821.
"This country being in a state of proscription, and all my friends exiled or arrested—the whole familyof Gamba obliged to go to Florence for the present—the father and son for politics—(and the Guiccioli, because menaced with aconvent, as her father isnothere,) I have determined to remove to Switzerland, and they also. Indeed, my life here is not supposed to be particularly safe—but that has been the case for this twelvemonth past, and is therefore not the primary consideration.
"I have written by this post to Mr. Hentsch, junior, the banker of Geneva, to provide (if possible) a house for me, and another for Gamba's family, (the father, son, and daughter,) on theJuraside of the lake of Geneva, furnished, and with stabling (formeat least) for eight horses. I shall bring Allegra with me. Could you assist me or Hentsch in his researches? The Gambas are at Florence, but have authorised me to treat for them. You know, or do not know, that they are great patriots—and both—but the son in particular—very fine fellows.ThisI know, for I have seen them lately in very awkward situations—notpecuniary, but personal—and they behaved like heroes, neither yielding nor retracting.
"You have no idea what a state of oppression this country is in—they arrested above a thousand of high and low throughout Romagna—banished some and confined others, withouttrial,process, or evenaccusation!! Every body says they would have done the same by me if they dared proceed openly. My motive, however, for remaining, is becauseevery oneof my acquaintance, to the amount of hundreds almost, have been exiled.
"Will you do what you can in looking out for a couple of housesfurnished, and conferring with Hentsch for us? We care nothing about society, and are only anxious for a temporary and tranquil asylum and individual freedom.
"Believe me, &c.
"P.S. Can you give me an idea of the comparative expenses of Switzerland and Italy? which I have forgotten. I speak merely of those of decentliving, horses, &c. and not of luxuries or high living. Donot, however, decide any thing positively till I have your answer, as I can then know how to think upon these topics of transmigration, &c. &c. &c."
LETTER 441. TO MR. MURRAY.
"Ravenna, July 30. 1821."Enclosed is the best account of the Doge Faliero, which was only sent to me from an old MS. the other day. Get it translated, and append it as a note to the next edition. You will perhaps be pleased to see that my conceptions of his character were correct, though I regret not having met with this extract before. You will perceive that he himself said exactly what he is made to say about the Bishop of Treviso. You will see also that' he spoke very little, and those only words of rage and disdain,'afterhis arrest, which is the case in the play, except when he breaks out at the close of Act Fifth. But his speech to the conspirators is better in the MS. than in the play. I wish that I had metwith it in time. Do not forget this note, with a translation."In a former note to the Juans, speaking of Voltaire, I have quoted his famous 'Zaire, tu pleures,' which is an error; it should be 'Zaire,vous pleures.' Recollect this."I am so busy here about those poor proscribed exiles, who are scattered about, and with trying to get some of them recalled, that I have hardly time or patience to write a short preface, which will be proper for the two plays. However, I will make it out on receiving the next proofs."Yours ever, &c."P.S. Please to append the letter aboutthe Hellespontas a note to your next opportunity of the verses on Leander, &c. &c. &c. in Childe Harold. Don't forget it amidst your multitudinous avocations, which I think of celebrating in a Dithyrambic Ode to Albemarle Street."Are you aware that Shelley has written an Elegy on Keats, and accuses the Quarterly of killing him?"'Who kill'd John Keats?''I,' says the Quarterly,So savage and Tartarly;''Twas one of my feats.'"'Who shot the arrow?''The poet-priest Milman(So ready to kill man),Or Southey or Barrow.'"You know very well that I did not approve of Keats's poetry, or principles of poetry, or of hisabuse of Pope; but, as he is dead, omitallthat is saidabout himin any MSS. of mine, or publication. His Hyperion is a fine monument, and will keep his name. I do not envy the man who wrote the article;—you Review people have no more right to kill than any other footpads. However, he who would die of an article in a Review would probably have died of something else equally trivial. The same thing nearly happened to Kirke White, who died afterwards of a consumption."
"Ravenna, July 30. 1821.
"Enclosed is the best account of the Doge Faliero, which was only sent to me from an old MS. the other day. Get it translated, and append it as a note to the next edition. You will perhaps be pleased to see that my conceptions of his character were correct, though I regret not having met with this extract before. You will perceive that he himself said exactly what he is made to say about the Bishop of Treviso. You will see also that' he spoke very little, and those only words of rage and disdain,'afterhis arrest, which is the case in the play, except when he breaks out at the close of Act Fifth. But his speech to the conspirators is better in the MS. than in the play. I wish that I had metwith it in time. Do not forget this note, with a translation.
"In a former note to the Juans, speaking of Voltaire, I have quoted his famous 'Zaire, tu pleures,' which is an error; it should be 'Zaire,vous pleures.' Recollect this.
"I am so busy here about those poor proscribed exiles, who are scattered about, and with trying to get some of them recalled, that I have hardly time or patience to write a short preface, which will be proper for the two plays. However, I will make it out on receiving the next proofs.
"Yours ever, &c.
"P.S. Please to append the letter aboutthe Hellespontas a note to your next opportunity of the verses on Leander, &c. &c. &c. in Childe Harold. Don't forget it amidst your multitudinous avocations, which I think of celebrating in a Dithyrambic Ode to Albemarle Street.
"Are you aware that Shelley has written an Elegy on Keats, and accuses the Quarterly of killing him?
"'Who kill'd John Keats?''I,' says the Quarterly,So savage and Tartarly;''Twas one of my feats.'"'Who shot the arrow?''The poet-priest Milman(So ready to kill man),Or Southey or Barrow.'
"'Who kill'd John Keats?''I,' says the Quarterly,So savage and Tartarly;''Twas one of my feats.'
"'Who shot the arrow?''The poet-priest Milman(So ready to kill man),Or Southey or Barrow.'
"You know very well that I did not approve of Keats's poetry, or principles of poetry, or of hisabuse of Pope; but, as he is dead, omitallthat is saidabout himin any MSS. of mine, or publication. His Hyperion is a fine monument, and will keep his name. I do not envy the man who wrote the article;—you Review people have no more right to kill than any other footpads. However, he who would die of an article in a Review would probably have died of something else equally trivial. The same thing nearly happened to Kirke White, who died afterwards of a consumption."
LETTER 442. TO MR. MOORE.
"Ravenna, August 2. 1821."I had certainly answered your last letter, though but briefly, to the part to which you refer, merely saying, 'damn the controversy;' and quoting some verses of George Colman's, not as allusive to you, but to the disputants. Did you receive this letter? It imports me to know that our letters are not intercepted or mislaid."Your Berlin drama[44]is an honour, unknown since the days of Elkanah Settle, whose 'Emperor of Morocco' was represented by the Court ladies, which was, as Johnson says, 'the last blast of inflammation' to poor Dryden, who could not bear it, and fell foul of Settle without mercy or moderation,on account of that and a frontispiece, which he dared to put before his play."Was not your showing the Memoranda to * * somewhat perilous? Is there not a facetious allusion or two which might as well be reserved for posterity?"I know S * * well—that is to say, I have met him occasionally at Copet. Is he not also touched lightly in the Memoranda? In a review of Childe Harold, Canto 4th, three years ago, in Blackwood's Magazine, they quote some stanzas of an elegy of S * *'s on Rome, from which they say that Imighthave taken some ideas. I give you my honour that I never saw it except in that criticism, which gives, I think, three or four stanzas, sent them (they say) for the nonce by a correspondent—perhaps himself. The fact is easily proved; for I don't understand German, and there was, I believe, no translation—at least, it was the first time that I ever heard of, or saw, either translation or original."I remember having some talk with S * * about Alfieri, whose merit he denies. He was also wroth about the Edinburgh Review of Goethe, which was sharp enough, to be sure. He went about saying, too, of the French—'I meditate a terrible vengeance against the French—I will prove that Molière is no poet[45].'"I don't see why you should talk of 'declining.'When I saw you, you looked thinner, and yet younger, than you did when we parted several years before. You may rely upon this as fact. If it were not, I should saynothing, for I would rather not say unpleasantpersonalthings to anyone—but, as it was the pleasanttruth, I tell it you. If you had led my life, indeed, changing climates and connections—thinningyourself with fasting and purgatives—besides the wear and tear of the vulture passions, and a very bad temper besides, you might talk in this way—butyou! I know no man who looks so well for his years, or who deserves to look better and to be better, in all respects. You are a * * *, and, what is perhaps better for your friends, a good fellow. So, don't talk of decay, but put in for eighty, as you well may."I am, at present, occupied principally about these unhappy proscriptions and exiles, which have taken place here on account of politics. It has been a miserable sight to see the general desolation in families. I am doing what I can for them, high and low, by such interest and means as I possess or can bring to bear. There have been thousands of these proscriptions within the last month in the Exarchate, or (to speak modernly) the Legations. Yesterday, too, a man got his back broken, in extricating a dog of mine from under a mill-wheel. The dog was killed, and the man is in the greatest danger. I was not present—it happened before I was up, owing to a stupid boy taking the dog to bathe in a dangerous spot. I must, of course, provide for the poor fellow while he lives, and his family, if he dies.I would gladly have given a much greater sum than that will come to that he had never been hurt. Pray, let me hear from you, and excuse haste and hot weather."Yours, &c."You may have probably seen all sorts of attacks upon me in some gazettes in England some months ago. I only saw them, by Murray's bounty, the other day. They call me 'Plagiary,' and what not. I think I now, in my time, have been accused ofeverything."I have not given you details of little events here; but they have been trying to make me out to be the chief of a conspiracy, and nothing but their want of proofs for anEnglishinvestigation has stopped them. Had it been a poor native, the suspicion were enough, as it has been for hundreds."Why don't you write on Napoleon? I have no spirits, nor 'estro' to do so. His overthrow, from the beginning, was a blow on the head to me. Since that period, we have been the slaves of fools. Excuse this long letter.Eccoa translation literal of a French epigram."Egle, beauty and poet, has two little crimes,She makes her own face, and doesnotmake her rhymes."I am going to ride, having been warned not to ride in a particular part of the forest, on account of the ultra-politicians."Is there no chance of your return to England, and ofourJournal? I would have published the two plays in it—two or three scenes per number—and, indeed,allof mine in it. If you went to England, I would do so still."
"Ravenna, August 2. 1821.
"I had certainly answered your last letter, though but briefly, to the part to which you refer, merely saying, 'damn the controversy;' and quoting some verses of George Colman's, not as allusive to you, but to the disputants. Did you receive this letter? It imports me to know that our letters are not intercepted or mislaid.
"Your Berlin drama[44]is an honour, unknown since the days of Elkanah Settle, whose 'Emperor of Morocco' was represented by the Court ladies, which was, as Johnson says, 'the last blast of inflammation' to poor Dryden, who could not bear it, and fell foul of Settle without mercy or moderation,on account of that and a frontispiece, which he dared to put before his play.
"Was not your showing the Memoranda to * * somewhat perilous? Is there not a facetious allusion or two which might as well be reserved for posterity?
"I know S * * well—that is to say, I have met him occasionally at Copet. Is he not also touched lightly in the Memoranda? In a review of Childe Harold, Canto 4th, three years ago, in Blackwood's Magazine, they quote some stanzas of an elegy of S * *'s on Rome, from which they say that Imighthave taken some ideas. I give you my honour that I never saw it except in that criticism, which gives, I think, three or four stanzas, sent them (they say) for the nonce by a correspondent—perhaps himself. The fact is easily proved; for I don't understand German, and there was, I believe, no translation—at least, it was the first time that I ever heard of, or saw, either translation or original.
"I remember having some talk with S * * about Alfieri, whose merit he denies. He was also wroth about the Edinburgh Review of Goethe, which was sharp enough, to be sure. He went about saying, too, of the French—'I meditate a terrible vengeance against the French—I will prove that Molière is no poet[45].'
"I don't see why you should talk of 'declining.'When I saw you, you looked thinner, and yet younger, than you did when we parted several years before. You may rely upon this as fact. If it were not, I should saynothing, for I would rather not say unpleasantpersonalthings to anyone—but, as it was the pleasanttruth, I tell it you. If you had led my life, indeed, changing climates and connections—thinningyourself with fasting and purgatives—besides the wear and tear of the vulture passions, and a very bad temper besides, you might talk in this way—butyou! I know no man who looks so well for his years, or who deserves to look better and to be better, in all respects. You are a * * *, and, what is perhaps better for your friends, a good fellow. So, don't talk of decay, but put in for eighty, as you well may.
"I am, at present, occupied principally about these unhappy proscriptions and exiles, which have taken place here on account of politics. It has been a miserable sight to see the general desolation in families. I am doing what I can for them, high and low, by such interest and means as I possess or can bring to bear. There have been thousands of these proscriptions within the last month in the Exarchate, or (to speak modernly) the Legations. Yesterday, too, a man got his back broken, in extricating a dog of mine from under a mill-wheel. The dog was killed, and the man is in the greatest danger. I was not present—it happened before I was up, owing to a stupid boy taking the dog to bathe in a dangerous spot. I must, of course, provide for the poor fellow while he lives, and his family, if he dies.I would gladly have given a much greater sum than that will come to that he had never been hurt. Pray, let me hear from you, and excuse haste and hot weather.
"Yours, &c.
"You may have probably seen all sorts of attacks upon me in some gazettes in England some months ago. I only saw them, by Murray's bounty, the other day. They call me 'Plagiary,' and what not. I think I now, in my time, have been accused ofeverything.
"I have not given you details of little events here; but they have been trying to make me out to be the chief of a conspiracy, and nothing but their want of proofs for anEnglishinvestigation has stopped them. Had it been a poor native, the suspicion were enough, as it has been for hundreds.
"Why don't you write on Napoleon? I have no spirits, nor 'estro' to do so. His overthrow, from the beginning, was a blow on the head to me. Since that period, we have been the slaves of fools. Excuse this long letter.Eccoa translation literal of a French epigram.
"Egle, beauty and poet, has two little crimes,She makes her own face, and doesnotmake her rhymes.
"Egle, beauty and poet, has two little crimes,She makes her own face, and doesnotmake her rhymes.
"I am going to ride, having been warned not to ride in a particular part of the forest, on account of the ultra-politicians.
"Is there no chance of your return to England, and ofourJournal? I would have published the two plays in it—two or three scenes per number—and, indeed,allof mine in it. If you went to England, I would do so still."
About this time Mr. Shelley, who had now fixed his residence at Pisa, received a letter from Lord Byron, earnestly requesting to see him, in consequence of which he immediately set out for Ravenna; and the following extracts from letters, written during his stay with his noble friend, will be read with that double feeling of interest which is always sure to be excited in hearing one man of genius express his opinions of another.
"Ravenna, August 7. 1821."I arrived last night at ten o'clock, and sat up talking with Lord Byron until five this morning: I then went to sleep, and now awake at eleven; and having despatched my breakfast as quick as possible, mean to devote the interval until twelve, when the post departs, to you."Lord Byron is very well, and was delighted, to see me. He has in fact completely recovered his health, and lives a life totally the reverse of that which he led at Venice. He has a permanent sort of liaison with the Contessa Guiccioli, who is now at Florence, and seems from her letters to be a very amiable woman. She is waiting there until something shall be decided as to their emigration to Switzerland or stay in Italy, which is yet undetermined on either side. She was compelled to escape from the Papal territory in great haste, as measures had already been taken to place her in a convent, where she would have been unrelentingly confinedfor life. The oppression of the marriage contract as existing in the laws and opinions of Italy, though less frequently exercised, is far severer than that of England."Lord Byron had almost destroyed himself at Venice. His state of debility was such that he was unable to digest any food: he was consumed by hectic fever, and would speedily have perished but for this attachment, which reclaimed him from the excesses into which he threw himself, from carelessness and pride, rather than taste. Poor fellow I he is now quite well, and immersed in politics and literature. He has given me a number of the most interesting details on the former subject; but we will not speak of them in a letter. Fletcher is here, and—as if, like a shadow, he waxed and waned with the substance of his master—has also revived his good looks, and from amidst the unseasonable grey hairs, a fresh harvest of flaxen locks has put forth."We talked a great deal of poetry and such matters last night; and, as usual, differed—and I think more than ever. He affects to patronise a system of criticism fit only for the production of mediocrity; and, although all his finer poems and passages have been produced in defiance of this system, yet I recognise the pernicious effects of it in the Doge of Venice; and it will cramp and limit his future efforts, however great they may be, unless he gets rid of it. I have read only parts of it, or rather he himself read them to me, and gave me the plan of the whole."Ravenna, August 15. 1821."We ride out in the evening through the pine forests which divide the city from the sea. Our way of life is this, and I have accommodated myself to it without much difficulty:—Lord Byron gets up at two—breakfasts—we talk, read, &c. until six—then we ride at eight, and after dinner sit talking until four or five in the morning. I get up at twelve, and am now devoting the interval between my rising and his to you."Lord Byron is greatly improved in every respect—in genius, in temper, in moral views, in health and happiness. His connection with La Guiccioli has been an inestimable benefit to him. He lives in considerable splendour, but within his income, which is now about four thousand a year, one thousand of which he devotes to purposes of charity. He has had mischievous passions, but these he seems to have subdued; and he is becoming, what he should be, a virtuous man. The interest which he took in the politics of Italy, and the actions he performed in consequence of it, are subjects not fit to be written, but are such as will delight and surprise you."He is not yet decided to go to Switzerland, a place, indeed, little fitted for him: the gossip and the cabals of those Anglicised coteries would torment him as they did before, and might exasperate him into a relapse of libertinism, which, he says, he plunged into not from taste, but from despair. La Guiccioli and her brother (who is Lord Byron's friend and confidant, and acquiesces perfectly in her connection with him) wish to go to Switzerland, asLord Byron says, merely from the novelty and pleasure of travelling. Lord Byron prefers Tuscany or Lucca, and is trying to persuade them to adopt his views. He has mademewrite a long letter to her to engage her to remain. An odd thing enough for an utter stranger to write on subjects of the utmost delicacy to his friend's mistress—but it seems destined that I am always to have some active part in every body's affairs whom I approach. I have set down, in tame Italian, the strongest reasons I can think of against the Swiss emigration. To tell you the truth, I should be very glad to accept as my fee his establishment in Tuscany. Ravenna is a miserable place: the people are barbarous and wild, and their language the most infernalpatoisthat you can imagine. He would be in every respect better among the Tuscans."He has read to me one of the unpublished cantos of Don Juan, which is astonishingly fine. It sets him not only above, but far above all the poets of the day. Every word has the stamp of immortality. This canto is in a style (but totally free from indelicacy, and sustained with incredible ease and power) like the end of the second canto: there is not a word which the most rigid assertor of the dignity of human nature could desire to be cancelled: it fulfils, in a certain degree, what I have long preached,—of producing something wholly new, and relative to the age, and yet surpassingly beautiful. It may be vanity, but I think I see the trace of my earnest exhortations to him, to create something wholly new. * * * *"I am sure, if I asked, it would not be refused; yet there is something in me that makes it impossible. Lord Byron and I are excellent friends; and were I reduced to poverty, or were I a writer who had no claim to a higher station than I possess, or did I possess a higher than I deserve, we should appear in all things as such, and I would freely ask him any favour. Such is not now the case: the demon of mistrust and of pride lurks between two persons in our situation, poisoning the freedom of our intercourse. This is a tax, and a heavy one, which we must pay for being human. I think the fault is not on my side; nor is it likely,—I being the weaker. I hope that in the next world these things will be better managed. What is passing in the heart of another rarely escapes the observation of one who is a strict anatomist of his own. * * *"Lord Byron here has splendid apartments in the palace of Count Guiccioli, who is one of the richest men in Italy. She is divorced, with an allowance of twelve thousand crowns a year;—a miserable pittance from a man who has a hundred and twenty thousand a year. There are two monkeys, five cats, eight dogs, and ten horses, all of whom (except the horses) walk about the house like the masters of it. Tita, the Venetian, is here, and operates as my valet—a fine fellow, with a prodigious black beard, who has stabbed two or three people, and is the most good-natured-looking fellow I ever saw."Wednesday, Ravenna."I told you I had written, by Lord Byron's desire,to La Guiccioli, to dissuade her and her family from Switzerland. Her answer is this moment arrived, and my representation seems to have reconciled them to the unfitness of the step. At the conclusion of a letter, full of all the fine things she says she has heard of me, is this request, which I transcribe:—'Signore, la vostra bontà mi fa ardita di chiedervi un favore, me lo accorderete voi?Non partite da Ravenna senza Milord.' Of course, being now, by all the laws of knighthood, captive to a lady's request, I shall only be at liberty onmy paroleuntil Lord Byron is settled at Pisa. I shall reply, of course, that the boon is granted, and that if Lord Byron is reluctant to quit Ravenna after I have made arrangements for receiving him at Pisa, I am bound to place myself in the same situation as now, to assail him with importunities to rejoin her. Of this there is fortunately no need; and I need not tell you that there is no fear that this chivalric submission of mine to the great general laws of antique courtesy, against which I never rebel, and which is my religion, should interfere with my soon returning, and long remaining with you, dear girl. * *"We ride out every evening as usual, and practise pistol-shooting at a pumpkin, and I am not sorry to observe that I approach towards my noble friend's exactness of aim. I have the greatest trouble to get away, and Lord Byron, as a reason for my stay, has urged, that without either me or the Guiccioli, he will certainly fall into his old habits. I then talk, and he listens to reason; and I earnestly hope that he is too well aware of the terrible and degradingconsequences of his former mode of life, to be in danger from the short interval of temptation that will be left him."
"Ravenna, August 7. 1821.
"I arrived last night at ten o'clock, and sat up talking with Lord Byron until five this morning: I then went to sleep, and now awake at eleven; and having despatched my breakfast as quick as possible, mean to devote the interval until twelve, when the post departs, to you.
"Lord Byron is very well, and was delighted, to see me. He has in fact completely recovered his health, and lives a life totally the reverse of that which he led at Venice. He has a permanent sort of liaison with the Contessa Guiccioli, who is now at Florence, and seems from her letters to be a very amiable woman. She is waiting there until something shall be decided as to their emigration to Switzerland or stay in Italy, which is yet undetermined on either side. She was compelled to escape from the Papal territory in great haste, as measures had already been taken to place her in a convent, where she would have been unrelentingly confinedfor life. The oppression of the marriage contract as existing in the laws and opinions of Italy, though less frequently exercised, is far severer than that of England.
"Lord Byron had almost destroyed himself at Venice. His state of debility was such that he was unable to digest any food: he was consumed by hectic fever, and would speedily have perished but for this attachment, which reclaimed him from the excesses into which he threw himself, from carelessness and pride, rather than taste. Poor fellow I he is now quite well, and immersed in politics and literature. He has given me a number of the most interesting details on the former subject; but we will not speak of them in a letter. Fletcher is here, and—as if, like a shadow, he waxed and waned with the substance of his master—has also revived his good looks, and from amidst the unseasonable grey hairs, a fresh harvest of flaxen locks has put forth.
"We talked a great deal of poetry and such matters last night; and, as usual, differed—and I think more than ever. He affects to patronise a system of criticism fit only for the production of mediocrity; and, although all his finer poems and passages have been produced in defiance of this system, yet I recognise the pernicious effects of it in the Doge of Venice; and it will cramp and limit his future efforts, however great they may be, unless he gets rid of it. I have read only parts of it, or rather he himself read them to me, and gave me the plan of the whole.
"Ravenna, August 15. 1821.
"We ride out in the evening through the pine forests which divide the city from the sea. Our way of life is this, and I have accommodated myself to it without much difficulty:—Lord Byron gets up at two—breakfasts—we talk, read, &c. until six—then we ride at eight, and after dinner sit talking until four or five in the morning. I get up at twelve, and am now devoting the interval between my rising and his to you.
"Lord Byron is greatly improved in every respect—in genius, in temper, in moral views, in health and happiness. His connection with La Guiccioli has been an inestimable benefit to him. He lives in considerable splendour, but within his income, which is now about four thousand a year, one thousand of which he devotes to purposes of charity. He has had mischievous passions, but these he seems to have subdued; and he is becoming, what he should be, a virtuous man. The interest which he took in the politics of Italy, and the actions he performed in consequence of it, are subjects not fit to be written, but are such as will delight and surprise you.
"He is not yet decided to go to Switzerland, a place, indeed, little fitted for him: the gossip and the cabals of those Anglicised coteries would torment him as they did before, and might exasperate him into a relapse of libertinism, which, he says, he plunged into not from taste, but from despair. La Guiccioli and her brother (who is Lord Byron's friend and confidant, and acquiesces perfectly in her connection with him) wish to go to Switzerland, asLord Byron says, merely from the novelty and pleasure of travelling. Lord Byron prefers Tuscany or Lucca, and is trying to persuade them to adopt his views. He has mademewrite a long letter to her to engage her to remain. An odd thing enough for an utter stranger to write on subjects of the utmost delicacy to his friend's mistress—but it seems destined that I am always to have some active part in every body's affairs whom I approach. I have set down, in tame Italian, the strongest reasons I can think of against the Swiss emigration. To tell you the truth, I should be very glad to accept as my fee his establishment in Tuscany. Ravenna is a miserable place: the people are barbarous and wild, and their language the most infernalpatoisthat you can imagine. He would be in every respect better among the Tuscans.
"He has read to me one of the unpublished cantos of Don Juan, which is astonishingly fine. It sets him not only above, but far above all the poets of the day. Every word has the stamp of immortality. This canto is in a style (but totally free from indelicacy, and sustained with incredible ease and power) like the end of the second canto: there is not a word which the most rigid assertor of the dignity of human nature could desire to be cancelled: it fulfils, in a certain degree, what I have long preached,—of producing something wholly new, and relative to the age, and yet surpassingly beautiful. It may be vanity, but I think I see the trace of my earnest exhortations to him, to create something wholly new. * * * *
"I am sure, if I asked, it would not be refused; yet there is something in me that makes it impossible. Lord Byron and I are excellent friends; and were I reduced to poverty, or were I a writer who had no claim to a higher station than I possess, or did I possess a higher than I deserve, we should appear in all things as such, and I would freely ask him any favour. Such is not now the case: the demon of mistrust and of pride lurks between two persons in our situation, poisoning the freedom of our intercourse. This is a tax, and a heavy one, which we must pay for being human. I think the fault is not on my side; nor is it likely,—I being the weaker. I hope that in the next world these things will be better managed. What is passing in the heart of another rarely escapes the observation of one who is a strict anatomist of his own. * * *
"Lord Byron here has splendid apartments in the palace of Count Guiccioli, who is one of the richest men in Italy. She is divorced, with an allowance of twelve thousand crowns a year;—a miserable pittance from a man who has a hundred and twenty thousand a year. There are two monkeys, five cats, eight dogs, and ten horses, all of whom (except the horses) walk about the house like the masters of it. Tita, the Venetian, is here, and operates as my valet—a fine fellow, with a prodigious black beard, who has stabbed two or three people, and is the most good-natured-looking fellow I ever saw.
"Wednesday, Ravenna.
"I told you I had written, by Lord Byron's desire,to La Guiccioli, to dissuade her and her family from Switzerland. Her answer is this moment arrived, and my representation seems to have reconciled them to the unfitness of the step. At the conclusion of a letter, full of all the fine things she says she has heard of me, is this request, which I transcribe:—'Signore, la vostra bontà mi fa ardita di chiedervi un favore, me lo accorderete voi?Non partite da Ravenna senza Milord.' Of course, being now, by all the laws of knighthood, captive to a lady's request, I shall only be at liberty onmy paroleuntil Lord Byron is settled at Pisa. I shall reply, of course, that the boon is granted, and that if Lord Byron is reluctant to quit Ravenna after I have made arrangements for receiving him at Pisa, I am bound to place myself in the same situation as now, to assail him with importunities to rejoin her. Of this there is fortunately no need; and I need not tell you that there is no fear that this chivalric submission of mine to the great general laws of antique courtesy, against which I never rebel, and which is my religion, should interfere with my soon returning, and long remaining with you, dear girl. * *
"We ride out every evening as usual, and practise pistol-shooting at a pumpkin, and I am not sorry to observe that I approach towards my noble friend's exactness of aim. I have the greatest trouble to get away, and Lord Byron, as a reason for my stay, has urged, that without either me or the Guiccioli, he will certainly fall into his old habits. I then talk, and he listens to reason; and I earnestly hope that he is too well aware of the terrible and degradingconsequences of his former mode of life, to be in danger from the short interval of temptation that will be left him."
LETTER 443. TO MR. MURRAY.