"Ravenna, Sept. 28. 1820.
"I thought that I had told you long ago, that it never was intended
nor written with any view to the stage. I have said so in the
preface too. It is too long and too regular for your stage, the
persons too few, and the _unity_ too much observed. It is more like
a play of Alfieri's than of your stage (I say this humbly in
speaking of that great man); but there is poetry, and it is equal
to Manfred, though I know not what esteem is held of Manfred.
"I have now been nearly as long _out_ of England as I was there
during the time I saw you frequently. I came home July 14th, 1811,
and left again April 25th, 1816: so that Sept. 28th, 1820, brings
me within a very few months of the same duration of time of my stay
and my absence. In course, I can know nothing of the public taste
and feelings, but from what I glean from letters, &c. Both seem to
be as bad as possible.
"I thought _Anastasius excellent_: did I not say so? Matthews's
Diary most excellent; it, and Forsyth, and parts of Hobhouse, are
all we have of truth or sense upon Italy. The Letter to Julia very
good indeed, I do not despise * * * * * *; but if she knit blue
stockings instead of wearing them, it would be better. _You_ are
taken in by that false stilted trashy style, which is a mixture of
all the styles of the day, which are _all bombastic_ (I don't
except my _own_--no one has done more through negligence to corrupt
the language); but it is neither English nor poetry. Time will
show.
"I am sorry Gifford has made no further remarks beyond the first
Act: does he think all the English equally sterling as he thought
the first? You did right to send the proofs: I was a fool; but I do
really detest the sight of proofs: it is an absurdity; but comes
from laziness.
"You can steal the two Juans into the world quietly, tagged to the
others. The play as you will--the Dante too; but the _Pulci_ I am
proud of: it is superb; you have no such translation. It is the
best thing I ever did in my life. I wrote the play from beginning
to end, and not a _single scene without interruption_, and being
obliged to break off in the middle; for I had my hands full, and my
head, too, just then; so it can be no great shakes--I mean the
play; and the head too, if you like.
"P.S. Politics here still savage and uncertain. However, we are all
in our 'bandaliers,' to join the 'Highlanders if they cross the
Forth,' _i.e._ to crush the Austrians if they cross the Po. The
rascals!--and that dog Liverpool, to say their subjects are
_happy_! If ever I come back, I'll work some of these ministers.
"Sept. 29.
"I opened my letter to say, that on reading _more_ of the four
volumes on Italy, where the author says 'declined an introduction,'
I perceive (_horresco referens_) it is written by a WOMAN!!! In
that case you must suppress my note and answer, and all I have said
about the book and the writer. I never dreamed of it until now, in
my extreme wrath at that precious note. I can only say that I am
sorry that a lady should say any thing of the kind. What I would
have said to one of the other sex you know already. Her book too
(as a _she_ book) is not a bad one; but she evidently don't know
the Italians, or rather don't like them, and forgets the _causes_
of their misery and profligacy (_Matthews_ and _Forsyth_ are your
men for truth and tact), and has gone over Italy in
_company_--_always_ a _bad_ plan: you must be _alone_ with people
to know them well. Ask her, who was the '_descendant of Lady M.W.
Montague_,' and by whom? by Algarotti?
"I suspect that, in Marino Faliero, you and yours won't like the
_politics_, which are perilous to you in these times; but recollect
that it is _not a political_ play, and that I was obliged to put
into the mouths of the characters the sentiments upon which they
acted. I hate all things written like Pizarro, to represent France,
England, and so forth. All I have done is meant to be purely
Venetian, even to the very prophecy of its present state.
"Your Angles in general know little of the _Italians_, who detest
them for their numbers and their GENOA treachery. Besides, the
English travellers have not been composed of the best company. How
could they?--out of 100,000, how many gentlemen were there, or
honest men?
"Mitchell's Aristophanes is excellent. Send me the rest of it.
"These fools will force me to write a book about Italy myself, to
give them 'the loud lie.' They prate about assassination; what is
it but the origin of duelling--and '_a wild justice_,' as Lord
Bacon calls it? It is the fount of the modern point of honour in
what the laws can't or _won't_ reach. Every man is liable to it
more or less, according to circumstances or place. For instance, I
am living here exposed to it daily, for I have happened to make a
powerful and unprincipled man my enemy;--and I never sleep the
worse for it, or ride in less solitary places, because precaution
is useless, and one thinks of it as of a disease which may or may
not strike. It is true that there are those here, who, if he did,
would 'live to think on't;' but that would not awake my bones: I
should be sorry if it would, were they once at rest."
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