a young fellow then and now a man of mature age, who has never
had a suspicion of the cruel blow he unconsciously dealt me. I met him
in Piazza San Fedele, where I lived; and after a few words, he said, "By
the by, I hear you have published a novel. Well done!" and then talked
away about something quite different with the utmost heedlessness. Not a
drop of blood was left in my veins, and I said to myself, "Mercy on me!
I am done for: not even a word is said about my poor 'Fieramosca!'" It
seemed incredible that he, who belonged to a very numerous family,
connected with the best society of the town, should have heard nothing,
if the slightest notice had been taken of it. As he was besides an
excellent fellow and a friend, it seemed equally incredible that if a
word had been said and heard, he should not have repeated it to me.
Therefore, it was a failure; the worst of failures, that of silence.
With a bitter feeling at heart, I hardly knew where I went; but this
feeling soon changed, and the bitterness was superseded by quite an
opposite sensation.

'Fieramosca' succeeded, and succeeded so well that I felt _abasourdi_,
as the French express it; indeed, I could say "Je n'aurais jamais cru
etre si fort savant." My success went on in an increasing ratio: it
passed from the papers and from the masculine half to the feminine half
of society; it found its way to the studios and the stage. I became the
vade-mecum of every prima-donna and tenor, the hidden treat of
school-girls; I penetrated between the pillow and the mattress of
college, boys, of the military academy cadet; and my apotheosis reached
such a height that some newspapers asserted it to be Manzoni's work. It
is superfluous to add that only the ignorant could entertain such an
idea; those who were better informed would never have made such
a blunder.

My aim, as I said, was to take the initiative in the slow work of the
regeneration of national character. I had no wish but to awaken high and
noble sentiments in Italian hearts; and if all the literary men in the
world had assembled to condemn me in virtue of strict rules, I should
not have cared a jot, if, in defiance of all existing rules, I succeeded
in inflaming the heart of one single individual. And I will also add,
who can say that what causes durable emotion is unorthodox? It may be at
variance with some rules and in harmony with others; and those which
move hearts and captivate intellects do not appear to me