"Ravenna, July 17. 1820.
"I have received some books, and Quarterlies, and Edinburghs, for
all which I am grateful: they contain all I know of England, except
by Galignani's newspaper.
"The tragedy is completed, but now comes the task of copy and
correction. It is very long, (42 _sheets_ of long paper, of four
pages each,) and I believe must make more than 140 or 150 pages,
besides many historical extracts as notes, which I mean to append.
History is closely followed. Dr. Moore's account is in some
respects false, and in all foolish and flippant. _None_ of the
chronicles (and I have consulted Sanuto, Sandi, Navagero, and an
anonymous Siege of Zara, besides the histories of Laugier, Daru,
Sismondi, &c.) state, or even hint, that he begged his life; they
merely say that he did not deny the conspiracy. He was one of their
great men,--commanded at the siege of Zara,--beat 80,000
Hungarians, killing 8000, and at the same time kept the town he was
besieging in order,--took Capo d'Istria,--was ambassador at Genoa,
Rome, and finally Doge, where he fell for treason, in attempting to
alter the government, by what Sanuto calls a judgment on him for,
many years before (when Podesta and Captain of Treviso), having
knocked down a bishop, who was sluggish in carrying the host at a
procession. He 'saddles him,' as Thwackum did Square, 'with a
judgment;' but he does not mention whether he had been punished at
the time for what would appear very strange, even now, and must
have been still more so in an age of papal power and glory. Sanuto
says, that Heaven took away his senses for this buffet, and induced
him to conspire. 'Però fù permesso che il Faliero perdette
l'intelletto,' &c.
"I do not know what your parlour-boarders will think of the Drama I
have founded upon this extraordinary event. The only similar one in
history is the story of Agis, King of Sparta, a prince _with_ the
commons against the aristocracy, and losing his life therefor. But
it shall be sent when copied.
"I should be glad to know why your Quarter_ing_ Reviewers, at the
close of 'The Fall of Jerusalem,' accuse me of Manicheism? a
compliment to which the sweetener of 'one of the mightiest spirits'
by no means reconciles me. The poem they review is very noble; but
could they not do justice to the writer without converting him into
my religious antidote? I am not a Manichean, nor an _Any_-chean. I
should like to know what harm my 'poeshies' have done? I can't tell
what people mean by making me a hobgoblin."
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