"Ravenna, March 1. 1820.
"I sent you by last post the translation of the first Canto of the
Morgante Maggiore, and wish you to ask Rose about the word
'sbergo,' _i.e._ 'usbergo,' which I have translated _cuirass_. I
suspect that it means _helmet_ also. Now, if so, which of the
senses is best accordant with the text? I have adopted cuirass, but
will be amenable to reasons. Of the natives, some say one, and some
t'other: but they are no great Tuscans in Romagna. However, I will
ask Sgricci (the famous improvisatore) to-morrow, who is a native
of Arezzo. The Countess Guiccioli who is reckoned a very cultivated
young lady, and the dictionary, say _cuirass_. I have written
cuirass, but _helmet_ runs in my head nevertheless--and will run in
verse very well, whilk is the principal point. I will ask the Sposa
Spina Spinelli, too, the Florentine bride of Count Gabriel Rusponi,
just imported from Florence, and get the sense out of somebody.
"I have just been visiting the new Cardinal, who arrived the day
before yesterday in his legation. He seems a good old gentleman,
pious and simple, and not quite like his predecessor, who was a
bon-vivant, in the worldly sense of the words.
"Enclosed is a letter which I received some time ago from Dallas.
It will explain itself. I have not answered it. This comes of doing
people good. At one time or another (including copyrights) this
person has had about fourteen hundred pounds of my money, and he
writes what he calls a posthumous work about me, and a scrubby
letter accusing me of treating him ill, when I never did any such
thing. It is true that I left off letter-writing, as I have done
with almost everybody else; but I can't see how that was misusing
him.
"I look upon his epistle as the consequence of my not sending him
another hundred pounds, which he wrote to me for about two years
ago, and which I thought proper to withhold, he having had his
share, methought, of what I could dispone upon others.
"In your last you ask me after my articles of domestic wants; I
believe they are as usual: the bull-dogs, magnesia, soda-powders,
tooth-powders, brushes, and every thing of the kind which are here
unattainable. You still ask me to return to England: alas! to what
purpose? You do not know what you are requiring. Return I must,
probably, some day or other (if I live), sooner or later; but it
will not be for pleasure, nor can it end in good. You enquire after
my health and SPIRITS in large letters: my health can't be very
bad, for I cured myself of a sharp tertian ague, in three weeks,
with cold water, which had held my stoutest gondolier for months,
notwithstanding all the bark of the apothecary,--a circumstance
which surprised Dr. Aglietti, who said it was a proof of great
stamina, particularly in so epidemic a season. I did it out of
dislike to the taste of bark (which I can't bear), and succeeded,
contrary to the prophecies of every body, by simply taking nothing
at all. As to _spirits_, they are unequal, now high, now low, like
other people's I suppose, and depending upon circumstances.
"Pray send me W. Scott's new novels. What are their names and
characters? I read some of his former ones, at least once a day,
for an hour or so. The last are too hurried: he forgets
Ravenswood's name, and calls him _Edgar_ and then _Norman_; and
Girder, the cooper, is styled now _Gilbert_, and now _John_; and he
don't make enough of Montrose; but Dalgetty is excellent, and so is
Lucy Ashton, and the b----h her mother. What is _Ivanhoe_? and what
do you call his other? are there _two_? Pray make him write at
least two a year: I like no reading so well.
"The editor of the Bologna Telegraph has sent me a paper with
extracts from Mr. Mulock's (his name always reminds me of Muley
Moloch of Morocco) 'Atheism answered,' in which there is a long
eulogium of my poesy, and a great 'compatimento' for my misery. I
never could understand what they mean by accusing me of irreligion.
However, they may have it their own way. This gentleman seems to be
my great admirer, so I take what he says in good part, as he
evidently intends kindness, to which I can't accuse myself of being
invincible.
"Yours," &c.
* * * * *