"Venice, February 28. 1818.
"My dear Sir,
"Our friend, il Conte M., threw me into a cold sweat last night, by
telling me of a menaced version of Manfred (in Venetian, I hope, to
complete the thing) by some Italian, who had sent it to you for
correction, which is the reason why I take the liberty of troubling
you on the subject. If you have any means of communication with the
man, would you permit me to convey to him the offer of any price he
may obtain or think to obtain for his project, provided he will
throw his translation into the fire[16], and promise not to
undertake any other of that or any other of _my_ things: I will
send his money immediately on this condition.
"As I did not write _to_ the Italians, nor _for_ the Italians, nor
_of_ the Italians, (except in a poem not yet published, where I
have said all the good I know or do not know of them, and none of
the harm,) I confess I wish that they would let me alone, and not
drag me into their arena as one of the gladiators, in a silly
contest which I neither understand nor have ever interfered with,
having kept clear of all their literary parties, both here and at
Milan, and elsewhere.--I came into Italy to feel the climate and be
quiet, if possible. Mossi's translation I would have prevented, if
I had known it, or could have done so; and I trust that I shall yet
be in time to stop this new gentleman, of whom I heard yesterday
for the first time. He will only hurt himself, and do no good to
his party, for in _party_ the whole thing originates. Our modes of
thinking and writing are so unutterably different, that I can
conceive no greater absurdity than attempting to make any approach
between the English and Italian poetry of the present day. I like
the people very much, and their literature very much, but I am not
the least ambitious of being the subject of their discussions
literary and personal (which appear to be pretty much the same
thing, as is the case in most countries); and if you can aid me in
impeding this publication, you will add to much kindness already
received from you by yours Ever and truly,
"BYRON.
"P.S. How is _the_ son, and mamma? Well, I dare say."
[Footnote 16: Having ascertained that the utmost this translator could
expect to make by his manuscript was two hundred francs, Lord Byron
offered him that sum, if he would desist from publishing. The Italian,
however, held out for more; nor could he be brought to terms, till it
was intimated to him pretty plainly from Lord Byron that, should the
publication be persisted in, he would horsewhip him the very first time
they met. Being but little inclined to suffer martyrdom in the cause,
the translator accepted the two hundred francs, and delivered up his
manuscript, entering at the same time into a written engagement never to
translate any other of the noble poet's works.
Of the qualifications of this person as a translator of English poetry,
some idea may be formed from the difficulty he found himself under
respecting the meaning of a line in the Incantation in Manfred,--"And
the wisp on the morass,"--which he requested of Mr. Hoppner to expound
to him, not having been able to find in the dictionaries to which he had
access any other signification of the word "wisp" than "a bundle of
straw."]
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