Let us take heart, Providence will not forsake us. You know, my wife, that we have had recent proofs of its assistance; here is another. Yesterday the son of the Maestro Negri called on me bringing me the answer from those young ladies who, as you know, wished for a drama; he showed me a letter from them in which the matter is revived. I have had to lower my price, however, and content myself with thirty guineas....
Two days ago, a great Italian littérateur, Professor Orioli, head of the Bologna University, and head of the Italian Government during last year’s revolution, visited me, and paid me a great compliment on my new work. Mr Scrope, with whom I dined last Saturday, also said some very laudatory things about it, which he based on the opinion of Mr Charles, who had read it; the latter afterwards expressed his admiration to me in person. Last week I wrote two long letters to Malta to thank Mr and Miss Frere for their very opportune generosity, which saved us from imminent anxieties.
The day before yesterday I bought myself a pair of spectacles, which I felt badly in need of; and now, if you could see what an imposing figure I cut, and what a grave air they give me, it would inspire even you with respect. When you return you will certainly take me for a president. I will not tell you how much they cost, because you would immediately conclude that my spectacles were bad, and yet they serve their purpose wonderfully well....
Hitherto my stupid prophecy has not been at all fulfilled, and this letter is witness to the fact: and I pray to God that he may not fulfil it till I have been able, with your help, to educate and give a start in life to our four dear offshoots, who have rendered life extremely dear to me; and I hope to pass it in your sweet company, in that reciprocal affection which has hitherto bound us together....
Your most affectionate husband,
Gabriele.
C.
[The “garden” here spoken of is the enclosure of Park Square, Regent’s Park; I can remember being in it more than once in early childhood. Sangiovanni, a strange impetuous southern Italian, was now an artist-modeller in clay. Dr Maroncelli was a brother of the prisoner who was sent to the Spielberg along with Silvio Pellico, as recorded in Pellico’s book, once highly celebrated, Le Mie Prigioni. “My letter for the King of Naples” appears to have been a memorial or petition. Pistrucci (Filippo) had been run down in London streets, and remained lame (yet still active) up to the close of his life, which terminated towards 1857.]
[38 Charlotte Street, London.]
29th May 1832.