by Thomas Moore
LETTER 379. TO MR. MOORE.
“Ravenna, July 13. 1820.
“To remove or increase your Irish anxiety about my being ‘in a wisp,’ I answer your letter forth-with; premising that, as I am a ‘Will of the wisp,’ I may chance to flit out of it. But, first, a word on the Memoir; — I have no objection, nay, I would rather that one correct copy was taken and deposited in honourable hands, in case of accidents happening to the original; for you know that I have none, and have never even re-read, nor, indeed, read at all what is there written; I only know that I wrote it with the fullest intention to be ‘faithful and true’ in my narrative, but not impartial — no, by the Lord! I can’t pretend to be that, while I feel. But I wish to give every body concerned the opportunity to contradict or correct me.
“I have no objection to any proper person seeing what is there written, — seeing it was written, like every thing else, for the purpose of being read, however much many writings may fail in arriving at that object.
“With regard to ‘the wisp,’ the Pope has pronounced their separation. The decree came yesterday from Babylon, — it was she and her friends who demanded it, on the grounds of her husband’s (the noble Count Cavalier’s) extraordinary usage. He opposed it with all his might because of the alimony, which has been assigned, with all her goods, chattels, carriage, &c. to be restored by him. In Italy they can’t divorce. He insisted on her giving me up, and he would forgive every thing, — * *
* * * * *
* * * But, in this country, the very courts hold such proofs in abhorrence, the Italians being as much more delicate in public than the English, as they are more passionate in private.
“The friends and relatives, who are numerous and powerful, reply to him— ‘You, yourself, are either fool or knave, — fool, if you did not see the consequences of the approximation of these two young persons, — knave, if you connive at it. Take your choice, — but don’t break out (after twelve months of the closest intimacy, under your own eyes and positive sanction) with a scandal, which can only make you ridiculous and her unhappy.’
“He swore that he thought our intercourse was purely amicable, and that I was more partial to him than to her, till melancholy testimony proved the contrary. To this they answer, that ‘Will of this wisp’ was not an unknown person, and that ‘clamosa Fama’ had not proclaimed the purity of my morals; — that her brother, a year ago, wrote from Rome to warn him that his wife would infallibly be led astray by this ignis fatuus, unless he took proper measures, all of which he neglected to take, &c. &c.
“Now he says that he encouraged my return to Ravenna, to see ‘in quanti piedi di acqua siamo,’ and he has found enough to drown him in. In short,
“‘Ce ne fut pas le tout; sa femme se plaignit — Procès — La parenté se joint en excuse et dit Que du Docteur venoit tout le mauvais ménage; Que cet homme étoit fou, que sa femme étoit sage. On fit casser le mariage.’
It is but to let the women alone, in the way of conflict, for they are sure to win against the field. She returns to her father’s house, and I can only see her under great restrictions — such is the custom of the country. The relations behave very well: — I offered any settlement, but they refused to accept it, and swear she shan’t live with G. (as he has tried to prove her faithless), but that he shall maintain her; and, in fact, a judgment to this effect came yesterday. I am, of course, in an awkward situation enough.
“I have heard no more of the carabiniers who protested against my liveries. They are not popular, those same soldiers, and, in a small row, the other night, one was slain, another wounded, and divers put to flight, by some of the Romagnuole youth, who are dexterous, and somewhat liberal of the knife. The perpetrators are not discovered, but I hope and believe that none of my ragamuffins were in it, though they are somewhat savage, and secretly armed, like most of the inhabitants. It is their way, and saves sometimes a good deal of litigation.
“There is a revolution at Naples. If so, it will probably leave a card at Ravenna in its way to Lombardy.
“Your publishers seem to have used you like mine. M. has shuffled, and almost insinuated that my last productions are dull. Dull, sir! — damme, dull! I believe he is right. He begs for the completion of my tragedy on Marino Faliero, none of which is yet gone to England. The fifth act is nearly completed, but it is dreadfully long — 40 sheets of long paper of 4 pages each — about 150 when printed; but ‘so full of pastime and prodigality’ that I think it will do.
“Pray send and publish your Pome upon me; and don’t be afraid of praising me too highly. I shall pocket my blushes.
“‘Not actionable!’ — Chantre d’enfer! — by * * that’s ‘a speech,’ and I won’t put up with it. A pretty title to give a man for doubting if there be any such place!
“So my Gail is gone — and Miss Mahony won’t take Money. I am very glad of it — I like to be generous free of expense. But beg her not to translate me.
“Oh, pray tell Galignani that I shall send him a screed of doctrine if he don’t be more punctual. Somebody regularly detains two, and sometimes four, of his Messengers by the way. Do, pray, entreat him to be more precise. News are worth money in this remote kingdom of the Ostrogoths.
“Pray, reply. I should like much to share some of your Champagne and La Fitte, but I am too Italian for Paris in general. Make Murray send my letter to you — it is full of epigrams.
“Yours,” &c.
In the separation that had now taken place between Count Guiccioli and his wife, it was one of the conditions that the lady should, in future, reside under the paternal roof: — in consequence of which, Madame Guiccioli, on the 16th of July, left Ravenna and retired to a villa belonging to Count Gamba, about fifteen miles distant from that city. Here Lord Byron occasionally visited her — about once or twice, perhaps, in a month — passing the rest of his time in perfect solitude. To a mind like his, whose world was within itself, such a mode of life could have been neither new nor unwelcome; but to the woman, young and admired, whose acquaintance with the world and its pleasures had but just begun, this change was, it must be confessed, most sudden and trying. Count Guiccioli was rich, and, as a young wife, she had gained absolute power over him. She was proud, and his station placed her among the highest in Ravenna. They had talked of travelling to Naples, Florence, Paris, — and every luxury, in short, that wealth could command was at her disposal.
All this she now voluntarily and determinedly sacrificed for Byron. Her splendid home abandoned — her relations all openly at war with her — her kind father but tolerating, from fondness, what he could not approve — she was now, upon a pittance of 200l. a year, living apart from the world, her sole occupation the task of educating herself for her illustrious friend, and her sole reward the few brief glimpses of him which their now restricted intercourse allowed. Of the man who could inspire and keep alive so devoted a feeling, it may be pronounced with confidence that he could not have been such as, in the freaks of his own wayward humour, he represented himself; while, on the lady’s side, the whole history of her attachment goes to prove how completely an Italian woman, whether by nature or from her social position, is led to invert the usual course of such frailties among ourselves, and, weak in resisting the first impulses of passion, to reserve the whole strength of her character for a display of constancy and devotedness afterwards.
LETTER 380. TO MR. MURRAY.
“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 Quartering 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.”
LETTER 381. TO MR. MURRAY.
“Ravenna, August 31. 1820.
“I have ‘put my soul’ into the tragedy (as you if it); but you know that there are d —— d souls as well as tragedies. Recollect that it is not a political play, though it may look like it: it is strictly historical. Read the history and judge.
“Ada’s picture is her mother’s. I am glad of it — the mother made a good daughter. Send me Gifford’s opinion, and never mind the Archbishop. I can neither send you away, nor give you a hundred pistoles, nor a better taste: I send you a tragedy, and you ask for ‘facetious epistles;’ a little like your predecessor, who advised Dr. Prideaux to ‘put some more humour into his Life of Mahomet.’
“Bankes is a wonderful fellow. There is hardly one of my school or college contemporaries that has not turned out more or less celebrated. Peel, Palmerstone, Bankes, Hobhouse, Tavistock, Bob Mills, Douglas Kinnaird, &c. &c. have all talked and been talked about.
“We are here going to fight a little next month, if the Huns don’t cross the Po, and probably if they do. I can’t say more now. If any thing happens, you have matter for a posthumous work, in MS.; so pray be civil. Depend upon it, there will be savage work, if once they begin here. The French courage proceeds from vanity, the German from phlegm, the Turkish from fanaticism and opium, the Spanish from pride, the English from coolness, the Dutch from obstinacy, the Russian from insensibility, but the Italian from anger; so you’ll see that they will spare nothing.”
LETTER 382. TO MR. MOORE.
“Ravenna, August 31, 1820.
“D —— n your ‘mezzo cammin’ — you should say ‘the prime of life,’ a much more consolatory phrase. Besides, it is not correct. I was born in 1788, and consequently am but thirty-two. You are mistaken on another point. The ‘Sequin Box’ never came into requisition, nor is it likely to do so. It were better that it had, for then a man is not bound, you know. As to reform, I did reform — what would you have? ‘Rebellion lay in his way, and he found it.’ I verily believe that nor you, nor any man of poetical temperament, can avoid a strong passion of some kind. It is the poetry of life. What should I have known or written, had I been a quiet, mercantile politician, or a lord in waiting? A man must travel, and turmoil, or there is no existence. Besides, I only meant to be a Cavalier Servente, and had no idea it would turn out a romance, in the Anglo fashion.
“However, I suspect I know a thing or two of Italy — more than Lady Morgan has picked up in her posting. What do Englishmen know of Italians beyond their museums and saloons — and some hack * *, en passant? Now, I have lived in the heart of their houses, in parts of Italy freshest and least influenced by strangers, — have seen and become (pars magna fui) a portion of their hopes, and fears, and passions, and am almost inoculated into a family. This is to see men and things as they are.
“You say that I called you ‘quiet’ — I don’t recollect any thing of the sort. On the contrary, you are always in scrapes.
“What think you of the Queen? I hear Mr. Hoby says, ‘that it makes him weep to see her, she reminds him so much of Jane Shore.’
“Mr. Hoby the bootmaker’s heart is quite sore, For seeing the Queen makes him think of Jane Shore; And, in fact, * *
Pray excuse this ribaldry. What is your poem about? Write and tell me all about it and you.
“Yours, &c.
“P.S. Did you write the lively quiz on Peter Bell? It has wit enough to be yours, and almost too much to be any body else’s now going. It was in Galignani the other day or week.”
LETTER 383. TO MR. MURRAY.
“Ravenna, September 7. 1820.
“In correcting the proofs you must refer to the manuscript, because there are in it various readings. Pray attend to this, and choose what Gifford thinks best, Let me hear what he thinks of the whole.
“You speak of Lady * *’s illness; she is not of those who die: — the amiable only do; and those whose death would do good live. Whenever she is pleased to return, it may be presumed she will take her ‘divining rod’ along with her: it may be of use to her at home, as well as to the ‘rich man’ of the Evangelists.
“Pray do not let the papers paragraph me back to England. They may say what they please, any loathsome abuse but that. Contradict it.
“My last letters will have taught you to expect an explosion here: it was primed and loaded, but they hesitated to fire the train. One of the cities shirked from the league. I cannot write more at large for a thousand reasons. Our ‘puir hill folk’ offered to strike, and raise the first banner, but Bologna paused; and now ’tis autumn, and the season half over. ‘O Jerusalem! Jerusalem!’ The Huns are on the Po; but if once they pass it on their way to Naples, all Italy will be behind them. The dogs — the wolves — may they perish like the host of Sennacherib! If you want to publish the Prophecy of Dante, you never will have a better time.”
LETTER 384. TO MR. MURRAY.
“Ravenna, Sept. 11. 1820.
“Here is another historical note for you. I want to be as near truth as the drama can be.
“Last post I sent you a note fierce as Faliero himself, in answer to a trashy tourist, who pretends that he could have been introduced to me. Let me have a proof of it, that I may cut its lava into some shape.
“What Gifford says is very consolatory (of the first act). English, sterling genuine English, is a desideratum amongst you, and I am glad that I have got so much left; though Heaven knows how I retain it: I hear none but from my valet, and his is Nottinghamshire: and I see none but in your new publications, and theirs is no language at all, but jargon. Even your * * * * is terribly stilted and affected, with ‘very, very’ so soft and pamby.
“Oh! if ever I do come amongst you again, I will give you such a ‘Baviad and Mæviad!’ not as good as the old, but even better merited. There never was such a set as your ragamuffins (I mean not yours only, but every body’s). What with the Cockneys, and the Lakers, and the followers of Scott, and Moore, and Byron, you are in the very uttermost decline and degradation of literature. I can’t think of it without all the remorse of a murderer. I wish that Johnson were alive again to crush them!”
LETTER 385. TO MR. MURRAY.
“Ravenna, Sept. 14. 1820.
“What! not a line? Well, have it your own way.
“I wish you would inform Perry, that his stupid paragraph is the cause of all my newspapers being stopped in Paris. The fools believe me in your infernal country, and have not sent on their gazettes, so that I know nothing of your beastly trial of the Queen.
“I cannot avail myself of Mr. Gifford’s remarks, because I have received none, except on the first act. Yours, &c.
“P.S. Do, pray, beg the editors of papers to say any thing blackguard they please; but not to put me amongst their arrivals. They do me more mischief by such nonsense than all their abuse can do.”
LETTER 386. TO MR. MURRAY.
“Ravenna, Sept. 21. 1820.
“So you are at your old tricks again. This is the second packet I have received unaccompanied by a single line of good, bad, or indifferent. It is strange that you have never forwarded any further observations of Gifford’s. How am I to alter or amend, if I hear no further? or does this silence mean that it is well enough as it is, or too bad to be repaired? If the last, why do you not say so at once, instead of playing pretty, while you know that soon or late you must out with the truth.
“Yours, &c.
“P.S. My sister tells me that you sent to her to enquire where I was, believing in my arrival, driving a curricle, &c. &c. into Palace-yard. Do you think me a coxcomb or a madman, to be capable of such an exhibition? My sister knew me better, and told you, that could not be me. You might as well have thought me entering on ‘a pale horse,’ like Death in the Revelations.”
LETTER 387. TO MR. MURRAY.
“Ravenna, Sept. ‘23. 1820.