Mr. Foscolo to John Murray.
SOUTH BANK, August 20, 1822.
"During six years (for I landed in England the 10th September, 1816) I have constantly laboured under difficulties the most distressing; no one knows them so well as yourself, because no one came to my assistance with so warm a friendship or with cares so constant and delicate. My difficulties have become more perplexing since the Government both of the Ionian Islands and Italy have precluded even the possibility of my returning to the countries where a slender income would be sufficient, and where I would not be under the necessity of making a degrading use of my faculties. I was born a racehorse; and after near forty years of successful racing, I am now drawing the waggon—nay, to be the teacher of French to my copyists, and the critic of English to my translators!-to write sophistry about criticism, which I always considered a sort of literary quackery, and to put together paltry articles for works which I never read. Indeed, if I have not undergone the doom of almost all individuals whose situation becomes suddenly opposed to their feelings and habits, and if I am not yet a lunatic, I must thank the mechanical strength of my nerves. My nerves, however, will not withstand the threatenings of shame which I have always contemplated with terror. Time and fortune have taught me to meet all other evils with fortitude; but I grow every day more and more a coward at the idea of the approach of a stigma on my character; and as now I must live and die in England, and get the greater part of my subsistence from my labour, I ought to reconcile, if not labour with literary reputation, at least labour and life with a spotless name."
He then goes on to state that his debts amount to £600 or thereabouts, including a sum of £20 which he owed to Mr. Murray himself. Then he must have the money necessary for his subsistence, and he "finds he cannot live on less than £400 per annum."
"My apartments," he continues, "decently furnished, encompass me with an atmosphere of ease and respectability; and I enjoy the illusion of not having fallen into the lowest circumstances.
I always declare that I will die like a gentleman, on a decent bed, surrounded by casts (as I cannot buy the marbles) of the Venuses, of the Apollos, and of the Graces, and the busts of great men; nay, even among flowers, and, if possible, with some graceful innocent girl playing an old pianoforte in an adjoining room. And thus dies the hero of my novel. Far from courting the sympathy of mankind, I would rather be forgotten by posterity than give it the gratification of ejaculating preposterous sighs because I died like Camoens and Tasso on the bed of an hospital. And since I must be buried in your country, I am happy in having insured for me the possession during the remains of my life of a cottage built after my plan, surrounded by flowering shrubs, almost within the tumpikes of the town, and yet as quiet as a country-house, and open to the free air. Whenever I can freely dispose of a hundred pounds, I will also build a small dwelling for my corpse, under a beautiful Oriental plane-tree, which I mean to plant next November, and cultivate con amore. So far I am indeed an epicure; in all other things I am the most moderate of men."
The upshot of the letter is, that he wishes Mr. Murray to let him have £1,000, to be repaid in five years, he meanwhile writing articles for the Quarterly—one-half of the payment to be left with the publisher, and the remaining half to be added to his personal income. He concludes:
"In seeking out a way of salvation, I think it incumbent on me to prevent the tyranny of necessity, that I might not be compelled by it to endanger my character and the interest of a friend whose kindness I have always experienced, and whose assistance I am once more obliged to solicit."
Mr. Murray paid off some of his more pressing embarrassments—£30 to Messrs. Bentley for bills not taken up; £33 7_s_. to Mr. Kelly the printer; £14 to Mr. Antonini; and £50 to Foscolo's builder—besides becoming security for £300 to his bankers (with whom Foscolo did business), in order to ensure him a respite for six months. On the other hand, Foscolo agreed to insure his life for £600 as a sort of guarantee. "Was ever" impecunious author "so trusted before"? At this crisis in his affairs many friends came about him and took an interest in the patriot; Mr. Hallam and Mr. Wilbraham offered him money, but he would not accept "gratuities" from them, though he had no objection to accepting their "loans." Arrangements were then made for Foscolo to deliver a series of lectures on Italian Literature. Everything was settled, the day arrived, the room was crowded with a distinguished assembly, when at the last moment Foscolo appeared without his MS., which he had forgotten.
The course of lectures, however, which had been designed to relieve him from the pressure of his debts, proved successful, and brought him in, it is said, as much as £1,000; whereupon he immediately set to work to squander his earnings by giving a public breakfast to his patrons, for which purpose he thought it incumbent on him, amongst other expenses, to make a new approach and a gravelled carriage road to Digamma Cottage.