Part 21
"Four days ago I was overturned in an open carriage between the river and a steep bank:--wheels dashed to pieces, slight bruises, narrow escape, and all that; but no harm done, though coachman, foot-man, horses, and vehicle, were all mixed together like macaroni. It was owing to bad driving, as I say; but the coachman swears to a start on the part of the horses. We went against a post on the verge of a steep bank, and capsized. I usually go out of the town in a carriage, and meet the saddle horses at the bridge; it was in going there that we boggled; but I got my ride, as usual, after the accident. They say here it was all owing to St. Antonio of Padua, (serious, I assure you,)--who does thirteen miracles a day,--that worse did not come of it. I have no objection to this being his fourteenth in the four-and-twenty-hours. He presides over overturns and all escapes therefrom, it seems: and they dedicate pictures, &c. to him, as the sailors once did to Neptune, after 'the high Roman fashion.'
"Yours, in haste."
[Footnote 69: There were in this Poem, originally, three lines of remarkable strength and severity, which, as the Italian poet against whom they were directed was then living, were omitted in the publication. I shall here give them from memory.
"The prostitution of his Muse and wife, Both beautiful, and both by him debased, Shall salt his bread and give him means of life." ]
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LETTER 362. TO MR. MURRAY.
"Ravenna, March 20. 1820.
"Last post I sent you 'The Vision of Dante,'--four first Cantos. Enclosed you will find, _line for line_, in _third rhyme_ (_terza rima_), of which your British blackguard reader as yet understands nothing, Fanny of Rimini. You know that she was born here, and married, and slain, from Gary, Boyd, and such people. I have done it into _cramp_ English, line for line, and rhyme for rhyme, to try the possibility. You had best append it to the poems already sent by last three posts. I shall not allow you to play the tricks you did last year, with the prose you _post_-scribed to Mazeppa, which I sent to you _not_ to be published, if not in a periodical paper,--and there you tacked it, without a word of explanation. If this is published, publish it _with the original_, and _together_ with the _Pulci_ translation, _or_ the _Dante imitation_. I suppose you have both by now, and the _Juan_ long before.
"FRANCESCA OF RIMINI.
"_Translation from the Inferno of Dante, Canto 5th._
"'The land where I was born sits by the seas, Upon that shore to which the Po descends, With all his followers, in search of peace. Love, which the gentle heart soon apprehends, Seized him for the fair person which was ta'en From me, and me even yet the mode offends. Love, who to none beloved to love again Remits, seized me with wish to please, so strong, That, as thou seest, yet, yet it doth remain. Love to one death conducted us along, But Caina waits for him our life who ended:' These were the accents utter'd by her tongue,-- Since first I listen'd to these souls offended, I bow'd my visage and so kept it till--
{_then_} 'What think'st thou?' said the bard; { when } I unbended, And recommenced: 'Alas! unto such ill How many sweet thoughts, what strong ecstasies Led these their evil fortune to fulfil!' And then I turn'd unto their side my eyes, And said, 'Francesca, thy sad destinies Have made me sorrow till the tears arise. But tell me, in the season of sweet sighs, By what and how thy Love to Passion rose, So as his dim desires to recognise?' Then she to me: 'The greatest of all woes {_recall to mind_} Is to { remind us of } our happy days {_this_} In misery, and { that } thy teacher knows.
But if to learn our passion's first root preys Upon thy spirit with such sympathy, { _relate_ } I will {do[70] even} as he who weeps and says.-- We read one day for pastime, seated nigh, Of Lancilot, how Love enchain'd him too. We were alone, quite unsuspiciously, But oft our eyes met, and our cheeks in hue All o'er discolour'd by that reading were; { _overthrew_ } But one point only wholly {us o'erthrew;} { _desired_ } When we read the {long-sighed-for} smile of her, {_a fervent_} To be thus kiss'd by such { devoted } lover, He who from me can be divided ne'er Kiss'd my mouth, trembling in the act all over. Accursed was the book and he who wrote! That day no further leaf we did uncover.-- While thus one Spirit told us of their lot, The other wept, so that with pity's thralls I swoon'd as if by death I had been smote, And fell down even as a dead body falls.'"
[Footnote 70: "In some of the editions, it is, 'diro,' in others 'faro;'--an essential difference between 'saying' and 'doing,' which I know not how to decide. Ask Foscolo. The d----d editions drive me mad."]
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LETTER 363. TO MR. MURRAY.
"Ravenna, March 23. 1820.
"I have received your letter of the 7th. Besides the four packets you have already received, I have sent the Pulci a few days after, and since (a few days ago) the four first Cantos of Dante's Prophecy, (the best thing I ever wrote, if it be not _unintelligible_,) and by last post a literal translation, word for word (versed like the original), of the episode of Francesca of Rimini. I want to hear what you think of the new Juans, and the translations, and the Vision. They are all things that are, or ought to be, very different from one another.
"If you choose to make a print from the Venetian, you may; but she don't correspond at all to the character you mean her to represent. On the contrary, the Contessa G. does (except that she is fair), and is much prettier than the Fornarina; but I have no picture of her except a miniature, which is very ill done; and, besides, it would not be proper, on any account whatever, to make such a use of it, even if you had a copy.
"Recollect that the two new Cantos only count with us for one. You may put the Pulci and Dante together: perhaps that were best. So you have put your name to Juan, after all your panic. You are a rare fellow. I must now put myself in a passion to continue my prose. Yours," &c.
"I have caused write to Thorwaldsen. Pray be careful in sending my daughter's picture--I mean, that it be not hurt in the carriage, for it is a journey rather long and jolting."
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LETTER 364. TO MR. MURRAY.
"Ravenna, March 28. 1820.
"Enclosed is a 'Screed of Doctrine' for you, of which I will trouble you to acknowledge the receipt by next post. Mr. Hobhouse must have the correction of it for the press. You may show it first to whom you please.
"I wish to know what became of my two Epistles from St. Paul (translated from the Armenian three years ago and more), and of the letter to R----ts of last autumn, which you never have attended to? There are two packets with this.
"P.S. I have some thoughts of publishing the 'Hints from Horace,' written ten years ago[71],--if Hobhouse can rummage them out of my papers left at his father's,--with some omissions and alterations previously to be made when I see the proofs."
[Footnote 71: When making the observations which occur in the early part of this work, on the singular preference given by the noble author to the "Hints from Horace," I was not aware of the revival of this strange predilection, which (as it appears from the above letter, and, still more strongly, from some that follow) took place so many years after, in the full maturity of his powers and taste. Such a delusion is hardly conceivable, and can only, perhaps, be accounted for by that tenaciousness of early opinions and impressions by which his mind, in other respects so versatile, was characterised.]
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LETTER 365. TO MR. MURRAY.
"Ravenna, March 29. 1820.
"Herewith you will receive a note (enclosed) on Pope, which you will find tally with a part of the text of last post. I have at last lost all patience with the atrocious cant and nonsense about Pope, with which our present * *s are overflowing, and am determined to make such head against it as an individual can, by prose or verse; and I will at least do it with good will. There is no bearing it any longer; and if it goes on, it will destroy what little good writing or taste remains amongst us. I hope there are still a few men of taste to second me; but if not, I'll battle it alone, convinced that it is in the best cause of English literature.
"I have sent you so many packets, verse and prose, lately, that you will be tired of the postage, if not of the perusal. I want to answer some parts of your last letter, but I have not time, for I must 'boot and saddle,' as my Captain Craigengelt (an officer of the old Napoleon Italian army) is in waiting, and my groom and cattle to boot.
"You have given me a screed of metaphor and what not about _Pulci_, and manners, and 'going without clothes, like our Saxon ancestors.' Now, the _Saxons did not go without clothes_; and, in the next place, they are not my ancestors, nor yours either; for mine were Norman, and yours, I take it by your name, were _Gael_. And, in the next, I differ from you about the 'refinement' which has banished the comedies of Congreve. Are not the comedies of _Sheridan_? acted to the thinnest houses? I know (as _ex-committed_) that 'The School for Scandal' was the worst stock piece upon record. I also know that Congreve gave up writing because Mrs. Centlivre's balderdash drove his comedies off. So it is not decency, but stupidity, that does all this; for Sheridan is as decent a writer as need be, and Congreve no worse than Mrs. Centlivre, of whom Wilks (the actor) said, 'not only her play would be damned, but she too.' He alluded to 'A Bold Stroke for a Wife.' But last, and most to the purpose, Pulci is _not_ an _indecent_ writer--at least in his first Canto, as you will have perceived by this time.
"You talk of _refinement_:--are you all _more_ moral? are you _so_ moral? No such thing. _I_ know what the world is in England, by my own proper experience of the best of it--at least of the loftiest; and I have described it every where as it is to be found in all places.
"But to return. I should like to see the _proofs_ of mine answer, because there will be something to omit or to alter. But pray let it be carefully printed. When convenient let me have an answer.
"Yours."
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LETTER 366. TO MR. HOPPNER.
"Ravenna, March 31. 1820.
"Ravenna continues much the same as I described it. Conversazioni all Lent, and much better ones than any at Venice. There are small games at hazard, that is, faro, where nobody can point more than a shilling or two;--other card-tables, and as much talk and coffee as you please. Every body does and says what they please; and I do not recollect any disagreeable events, except being three times falsely accused of flirtation, and once being robbed of six sixpences by a nobleman of the city, a Count * * *. I did not suspect the illustrious delinquent; but the Countess V * * * and the Marquis L * * * told me of it directly, and also that it was a way he had, of filching money when he saw it before him; but I did not ax him for the cash, but contented myself with telling him that if he did it again, I should anticipate the law.
"There is to be a theatre in April, and a fair, and an opera, and another opera in June, besides the fine weather of nature's giving, and the rides in the Forest of Pine. With my best respects to Mrs. Hoppner, believe me ever, &c. BYRON.
"P.S. Could you give me an item of what books remain at Venice? I don't want them, but want to know whether the few that are not here are there, and were not lost by the way. I hope and trust you have got all your wine safe, and that it is drinkable. Allegra is prettier, I think, but as obstinate as a mule, and as ravenous as a vulture: health good, to judge of the complexion--temper tolerable, but for vanity and pertinacity. She thinks herself handsome, and will do as she pleases."
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LETTER 367. TO MR. MURRAY.
"Ravenna, April 9. 1820.
"In the name of all the devils in the printing-office, why don't you write to acknowledge the receipt of the second, third, and fourth packets, viz. the Pulci translation and original, the _Danticles_, the Observations on, &c.? You forget that you keep me in hot water till I know whether they are arrived, or if I must have the bore of re-copying.
"Have you gotten the cream of translations, Francesca of Rimini, from the Inferno? Why, I have sent you a warehouse of trash within the last month, and you have no sort of feeling about you: a pastry-cook would have had twice the gratitude, and thanked me at least for the quantity.
"To make the letter heavier, I enclose you the Cardinal Legate's (our Campeius) circular for his conversazione this evening. It is the anniversary of the Pope's _tiara_-tion, and all polite Christians, even of the Lutheran creed, must go and be civil. And there will be a circle, and a faro-table, (for shillings, that is, they don't allow high play,) and all the beauty, nobility, and sanctity of Ravenna present. The Cardinal himself is a very good-natured little fellow, bishop of Muda, and legate here,--a decent believer in all the doctrines of the church. He has kept his housekeeper these forty years * * * *; but is reckoned a pious man, and a moral liver.
"I am not quite sure that I won't be among you this autumn, for I find that business don't go on--what with trustees and lawyers--as it should do, 'with all deliberate speed.' They differ about investments in Ireland.
"Between the devil and deep sea, Between the lawyer and trustee,
I am puzzled; and so much time is lost by my not being upon the spot, what with answers, demurs, rejoinders, that it may be I must come and look to it; for one says do, and t'other don't, so that I know not which way to turn: but perhaps they can manage without me.
"Yours, &c.
"P.S. I have begun a tragedy on the subject of Marino Faliero, the Doge of Venice; but you sha'n't see it these six years, if you don't acknowledge my packets with more quickness and precision. _Always write, if but a line_, by return of post, when any thing arrives, which is not a mere letter.
"Address direct to Ravenna; it saves a week's time, and much postage."
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LETTER 368. TO MR. MURRAY.
"Ravenna, April 16. 1820.
"Post after post arrives without bringing any acknowledgment from you of the different packets (excepting the first) which I sent within the last two months, all of which ought to be arrived long ere now; and as they were announced in other letters, you ought at least to say whether they are come or not. You are not expected to write frequent, or long letters, as your time is much occupied; but when parcels that have cost some pains in the composition, and great trouble in the copying, are sent to you, I should at least be put out of suspense, by the immediate acknowledgment, per return of post, addressed _directly_ to _Ravenna_. I am naturally--knowing what continental posts are--anxious to hear that they are arrived; especially as I loathe the task of copying so much, that if there was a human being that could copy my blotted MSS. he should have all they can ever bring for his trouble. All I desire is two lines, to say, such a day I received such a packet. There are at least six unacknowledged. This is neither kind nor courteous.
"I have, besides, another reason for desiring you to be speedy, which is, that there is THAT brewing in Italy which will speedily cut off all security of communication, and set all your Anglo-travellers flying in every direction, with their usual fortitude in foreign tumults. The Spanish and French affairs have set the Italians in a ferment; and no wonder: they have been too long trampled on. This will make a sad scene for your exquisite traveller, but not for the resident, who naturally wishes a people to redress itself. I shall, if permitted by the natives, remain to see what will come of it, and perhaps to take a turn with them, like Dugald Dalgetty and his horse, in case of business; for I shall think it by far the most interesting spectacle and moment in existence, to see the Italians send the barbarians of all nations back to their own dens. I have lived long enough among them to feel more for them as a nation than for any other people in existence. But they want union, and they want principle; and I doubt their success. However, they will try, probably, and if they do, it will be a good cause. No Italian can hate an Austrian more than I do: unless it be the English, the Austrians seem to me the most obnoxious race under the sky.
"But I doubt, if any thing be done, it won't be so quietly as in Spain. To be sure, revolutions are not to be made with rose-water, where there are foreigners as masters.
"Write while you can; for it is but the toss up of a paul that there will not be a row that will somewhat retard the mail by and by.
"Yours," &c.
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LETTER 369. TO MR. HOPPNER.
"Ravenna, April 18. 1820.
"I have caused write to Siri and Willhalm to send with Vincenza, in a boat, the camp-beds and swords left in their care when I quitted Venice. There are also several pounds of Mantons best powder in a Japan case; but unless I felt sure of getting it away from V. without seizure, I won't have it ventured. I can get it in here, by means of an acquaintance in the customs, who has offered to get it ashore for me; but should like to be certiorated of its safety in leaving Venice. I would not lose it for its weight in gold--there is none such in Italy, as I take it to be.
"I wrote to you a week or so ago, and hope you are in good plight and spirits. Sir Humphry Davy is here, and was last night at the Cardinal's. As I had been there last Sunday, and yesterday was warm, I did not go, which I should have done, if I had thought of meeting the man of chemistry. He called this morning, and I shall go in search of him at Corso time. I believe to-day, being Monday, there is no great conversazione, and only the family one at the Marchese Cavalli's, where I go as a relation sometimes, so that, unless he stays a day or two, we should hardly meet in public.
"The theatre is to open in May for the fair, if there is not a row in all Italy by that time,--the Spanish business has set them all a constitutioning, and what will be the end, no one knows--it is also necessary thereunto to have a beginning.
"Yours, &c.
"P.S. My benediction to Mrs. Hoppner. How is your little boy? Allegra is growing, and has increased in good looks and obstinacy."
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LETTER 370. TO MR. MURRAY.
"Ravenna, April 23. 1820.
"The proofs don't contain the _last_ stanzas of Canto second, but end abruptly with the 105th stanza.
"I told you long ago that the new Cantos[72] were _not_ good, and I also _told you a reason_. Recollect, I do not oblige you to publish them; you may suppress them, if you like, but I can alter nothing. I have erased the six stanzas about those two impostors * * * * (which I suppose will give you great pleasure), but I can do no more. I can neither recast, nor replace; but I give you leave to put it all into the fire, if you like, or _not_ to publish, and I think that's sufficient.
"I told you that I wrote on with no good will--that I had been, _not_ frightened, but _hurt_ by the outcry, and, besides, that when I wrote last November, I was ill in body, and in very great distress of mind about some private things of my own; but you would have it: so I sent it to you, and to make it lighter, cut it in two--but I can't piece it together again. I can't cobble: I must 'either make a spoon or spoil a horn,'--and there's an end; for there's no remeid: but I leave you free will to suppress the whole, if you like it.
"About the _Morgante Maggiore, I won't have a line omitted_. It may circulate, or it may not; but all the criticism on earth sha'n't touch a line, unless it be because it is badly translated. Now you say, and I say, and others say, that the translation is a good one; and so it shall go to press as it is. Pulci must answer for his own irreligion: I answer for the translation only.
"Pray let Mr. Hobhouse look to the Italian next time in the proofs: this time, while I am scribbling to you, they are corrected by one who passes for the prettiest woman in Romagna, and even the Marches, as far as Ancona, be the other who she may.
"I am glad you like my answer to your enquiries about Italian society. It is fit you should like _something_, and be d----d to you.
"My love to Scott. I shall think higher of knighthood ever after for his being dubbed. By the way, he is the first poet titled for his talent in Britain: it has happened abroad before now; but on the Continent titles are universal and worthless. Why don't you send me Ivanhoe and the Monastery? I have never written to Sir Walter, for I know he has a thousand things, and I a thousand nothings, to do; but I hope to see him at Abbotsford before very long, and I will sweat his claret for him, though Italian abstemiousness has made my brain but a shilpit concern for a Scotch sitting 'inter pocula.' I love Scott, and Moore, and all the better brethren; but I hate and abhor that puddle of water-worms whom you have taken into your troop.
"Yours, &c.