now fuora was called out; and this lasted until the two principal couples vouchsafed to crawl forward from behind the curtain, make their bow, and retire at the opposite side.
The public was not yet satisfied, but went on clapping, and crying, "I morti!" till the two dead men also came forward, and made their bow, when some voices cried, "Bravi i morti!" The applause detained them for a long time, till at last they were allowed to depart. The effect is infinitely more droll to the eye-and-ear witness, who, like me, has ringing in his ears the "bravo! bravi!" which the Italians have incessantly in their mouths, and then suddenly hears the dead also called forward with this word of honour.
We of the north can say "good night" at any hour, when we take leave after dark; but the Italian says, "Felicissima notte" only once, and that is when the candles are brought into a room. Day and night are thus divided, and something quite different is meant. So impossible is it to translate the idioms of any language. From the highest to the lowest word, all has reference to the peculiarities of the natives, in character, opinions, or circumstances.
The tragedy yesterday taught me a great deal. In the first place, I have heard how the Italians treat and declaim their eleven-syllable iambics; and, in the next place, I have understood the tact of Gozzi in combining masks with his tragic personages. This is the proper sort of play for this people, which likes to be moved in a rough fashion. It has no tender, heartfelt sympathy for the unfortunate personage, but is only pleased when the hero speaks well. The Italians attach a great deal of importance to the speaking; and then they like to laugh, or to hear something silly.
Their interest in the drama is like that in the real event. When the tyrant gave his son a sword, and
