When I see you again I shall have much to tell you about, but will not put it into a letter. Suffice it that I have found that what you told me about Italy is but too true. I am in good health....
[To this letter the uncle Luigi Polidori added something. One point regarding Lord Byron is of a certain interest.]
I became indignant at some references [made by John Polidori] to the strange conduct of that Lord with whom he was travelling: but _he_ kept his temper well—I envy him for that. All these people are hard: Sævus enim ferme sensus communis in illâ fortunâ.—Patience!
[My father, about the date of this ensuing letter, met Mrs. Shelley several times, and he liked her well. He did not think her good-looking: indeed I have heard him say "Era brutta" (she was ugly).—The letter is written in fairly idiomatic, but by no means faultless, Italian.—I am not aware whether Gaetano Polidori supplied Mrs. Shelley with information, such as she asked for, for her Biography of Alfieri: perhaps a minute inspection of the book might show.—_Cleopatra_, acted in 1775, was Alfieri's first attempt at tragedy.]
Thank you so much for your amiable reply, and the interest you show in the undertaking of a pen but too unworthy of those great names which give so much lustre to your country. Meanwhile I am about to make a farther request: but am afraid of showing myself troublesome, and beg you to tell me your opinion sincerely. I should not like to seem to take impertinent liberties; and, if my idea appears to you impracticable, don't say anything about it to any one.
I am informed that your Father-in-law the celebrated Polidori can relate many interesting circumstances regarding Alfieri. The Life which I am writing will be printed in _Dr. Lardner's Cyclopædia_: therefore it is very short, running perhaps to 70 pages—not more. Thus, if I could introduce some details not yet known but worthy of publication, I should be very pleased indeed. I don't know whether Polidori would be willing to give me such details. For example, I should like to know whether Alfieri was really so melancholy and taciturn as is said by Sir John Hobhouse in his work, _Illustrations to the Fourth Canto of Childe Harold_; whether he gave signs of attachment to his friends, and whether he was warmly loved by them in return. Some anecdotes would be welcomed by me; also some information about the Countess of Albany. There is an affectation of silence, as to all that relates to her, in whatever has yet been written concerning Alfieri. But, now that she is dead, this is no longer necessary. Were they married? If not, nothing need be said about it; but, if they were, it would be well to affirm as much.
