And as
she could not comprehend this feeling, the mainspring of Foscolo's soul,
so she could understand of Foscolo only the slighter, meaner things: his
troubles and intrigues, his loves and quarrels. The moment came when the
grief of miscomprehension was revealed to poor Foscolo; when he saw
how little he was understood by this woman whom he loved as a mother.
Foscolo had refused, latterly, to serve Napoleon; he refused, also,
to serve the Austrians. Hated for his independent ways both by the
Bonapartists and the reactionists, surrounded by spies, he was forced
to quit Italy never to return. He wrote to explain his motives to Mme.
d'Albany. Mme. d'Albany wrote back in a way which showed that she
believed the assertions of Foscolo's enemies; that she ascribed to
cowardice, to meanness, to a base desire to make himself conspicuous,
the self-inflicted exile which he had taken upon him: a letter which the
editor of Foscolo's correspondence describes to us in one
word--unworthy.

This letter came upon Foscolo like a thunder-clap. "So thus," he wrote
to the Countess in August 1815, "generosity and justice are banished
even from nobler souls. Your letter, Signora Contessa, grieves me, and
confers upon me, at the same time, two advantages: it diminishes
suddenly the perpetual nostalgia which I have felt for Florence, and it
affords me an occasion to try my strength of spirit.... My hatred for
the tyranny with which Bonaparte was oppressing Italy does not imply
that I should love the house of Austria. The difference for me was
that I hoped that Bonaparte's ambition might bring about, if not the
independence of Italy, at least such magnanimous deeds as might raise
the Italians; whereas the regular government of Austria precludes all
such hopes. I should be mad and infamous if I desired for Italy, which
requires peace at any price, new disorders and slaughterings; but I
should consider myself madder still and more infamous if, having despised
to serve the foreigner who has fallen, I should accept to serve the
foreigner who has succeeded.... But if your accusation of inconstancy is
unjust, your accusation that I want to '_passer pour original_' is
actually offensive and mocking."

Later, in his solitary wanderings, Foscolo's heart seems to have melted
towards his former friend; he wrote her one or two letters, conciliating,
friendly, but how different from the former ones! The Countess of
Albany, whom he had loved and trusted,