Mr.
Dibdin, I presume. I have written to Murray, to the Lord
Chamberlain, and to others, to interfere and preserve me from such
an exhibition. I want neither the impertinence of their hisses, nor
the insolence of their applause. I write only for the _reader_, and
care for nothing but the _silent_ approbation of those who close
one's book with good humour and quiet contentment.

"Now, if you would also write to our friend Perry, to beg of him to
mediate with Harris and Elliston to _forbear_ this intent, you will
greatly oblige me. The play is quite unfit for the stage, as a
single glance will show them, and, I hope, _has_ shown them; and,
if it were ever so fit, I will never have any thing to do willingly
with the theatres.

"Yours ever, in haste," &c.

[Footnote 31: Already given in his Journal.]

* * * * *

LETTER 410. TO MR. MURRAY.

"Ravenna, January 27. 1821.

"I differ from you about the _Dante_, which I think should be
published with the tragedy. But do as you please: you must be the
best judge of your own craft. I agree with you about the _title_.
The play may be good or bad, but I flatter myself that it is
original as a picture of _that_ kind of passion, which to my mind
is so natural, that I am convinced that I should have done
precisely what the Doge did on those provocations.

"I am glad of Foscolo's approbation.

"Excuse haste. I believe I mentioned to you that--I forget what it
was; but no matter.

"Thanks for your compliments of the year. I hope that it will be
pleasanter than the last. I speak with reference to _England_ only,
as far as regards myself, _where_ I had every kind of
disappointment--lost an important law-suit--and the trustees of
Lady Byron refusing to allow of an advantageous loan to be made
from my property to Lord Blessington, &c. &c. by way of closing the
four seasons. These, and a hundred other such things, made a year
of bitter business for me in England. Luckily, things were a little
pleasanter for me _here_, else I should have taken the liberty of
Hannibal's ring.

"Pray thank Gifford for all his goodnesses. The winter is as cold
here as Parry's polarities. I must now take a canter in the forest;
my horses are waiting.

"Yours ever and truly."