[Footnote 22: In the original MS. these watch-words are blotted over so as to be illegible.]

"January, 31. 1821.

"For several days I have not written any thing except a few answers to letters. In momentary expectation of an explosion of some kind, it is not easy to settle down to the desk for the higher kinds of composition.

I could do it, to be sure, for, last summer, I wrote my drama in the very bustle of Madame la Contesse G.'s divorce, and all its process of accompaniments. At the same time, I also had the news of the loss of an important lawsuit in England. But these were only private and personal business; the present is of a different nature.

"I suppose it is this, but have some suspicion that it may be laziness, which prevents me from writing; especially as Rochefoucalt says that 'laziness often masters them all'--speaking of the _pa.s.sions_. If this were true, it could hardly be said that 'idleness is the root of all evil,' since this is supposed to spring from the pa.s.sions only: ergo, that which masters all the pa.s.sions (laziness, to wit) would in so much be a good. Who knows?

"Midnight.

"I have been reading Grimm's Correspondence. He repeats frequently, in speaking of a poet, or a man of genius in any department, even in music, (Gretry, for instance,) that he must have 'une ame qui se tourmente, un esprit violent.' How far this may be true, I know not; but if it were, I should be a poet 'per eccellenza;' for I have always had 'une ame,'

which not only tormented itself but every body else in contact with it; and an 'esprit violent,' which has almost left me without any 'esprit'

at all. As to defining what a poet _should_ be, it is not worth while, for what are _they_ worth? what have they done?

"Grimm, however, is an excellent critic and literary historian. His Correspondence form the annals of the literary part of that age of France, with much of her politics; and, still more, of her 'way of life.' He is as valuable, and far more entertaining than Muratori or Tiraboschi--I had almost said, than Ginguene--but there we should pause.

However, 'tis a great man in its line.

"Monsieur St. Lambert has

"'Et lorsqu'a ses regards la lumiere est ravie, Il n'a plus, en mourant, a perdre que la vie.'

This is, word for word, Thomson's

"'And dying, all we can resign is breath,'

without the smallest acknowledgment from the Lorrainer of a poet. M. St.

Lambert is dead as a man, and (for any thing I know to the contrary) d.a.m.ned, as a poet, by this time. However, his Seasons have good things, and, it may be, some of his own.

"February 2. 1821

"I have been considering what can be the reason why I always wake, at a certain hour in the morning, and always in very bad spirits--I may say, in actual despair and despondency, in all respects--even of that which pleased me over night. In about an hour or two, this goes off, and I compose either to sleep again, or, at least, to quiet. In England, five years ago, I had the same kind of hypochondria, but accompanied with so violent a thirst that I have drank as many as fifteen bottles of soda-water in one night, after going to bed, and been still thirsty--calculating, however, some lost from the bursting out and effervescence and over-flowing of the soda-water, in drawing the corks, or striking off the necks of the bottles from mere thirsty impatience.

At present, I have _not_ the thirst; but the depression of spirits is no less violent.

"I read in Edgeworth's Memoirs of something similar (except that his thirst expended itself on _small beer_) in the case of Sir F.B.

Delaval;--but then he was, at least, twenty years older. What is it?--liver? In England, Le Man (the apothecary) cured me of the thirst in three days, and it had lasted as many years. I suppose that it is all hypochondria.

"What I feel most growing upon me are laziness, and a disrelish more powerful than indifference. It I rouse, it is into fury. I presume that I shall end (if not earlier by accident, or some such termination) like Swift--'dying at top.' I confess I do not contemplate this with so much horror as he apparently did for some years before it happened. But Swift had hardly _begun life_ at the very period (thirty-three) when I feel quite an _old sort_ of feel.

"Oh! there is an organ playing in the street--a waltz, too! I must leave off to listen. They are playing a waltz which I have heard ten thousand times at the b.a.l.l.s in London, between 1812 and 1815. Music is a strange thing[23].

[Footnote 23: In this little incident of the music in the streets thus touching so suddenly upon the nerve of memory, and calling away his mind from its dark bodings to a recollection of years and scenes the happiest, perhaps, of his whole life, there is something that appears to me peculiarly affecting.]

"February 5. 1821.

"At last, 'the kiln's in a low.' The Germans are ordered to march, and Italy is, for the ten thousandth time, to become a field of battle. Last night the news came.

"This afternoon--Count P.G. came to me to consult upon divers matters.

We rode out together. They have sent off to the C. for orders. To-morrow the decision ought to arrive, and then something will be done.

Returned--dined--read--went out--talked over matters. Made a purchase of some arms for the new enrolled Americani, who are all on tiptoe to march. Gave order for some _harness_ and portmanteaus necessary for the horses.

"Read some of Bowles's dispute about Pope, with all the replies and rejoinders. Perceive that my name has been lugged into the controversy, but have not time to state what I know of the subject. On some 'piping day of peace' it is probable that I may resume it.

"February 9. 1821.

"Before dinner wrote a little; also, before I rode out, Count P.G.

called upon me, to let me know the result of the meeting of the Ci at F. and at B. * * returned late last night. Every thing was combined under the idea that the Barbarians would pa.s.s the Po on the 15th inst.

Instead of this, from some previous information or otherwise, they have hastened their march and actually pa.s.sed two days ago; so that all that can be done at present in Romagna is, to stand on the alert and wait for the advance of the Neapolitans. Every thing was ready, and the Neapolitans had sent on their own instructions and intentions, all calculated for the _tenth_ and _eleventh_, on which days a general rising was to take place, under the supposition that the Barbarians could not advance before the 15th.

"As it is, they have but fifty or sixty thousand troops, a number with which they might as well attempt to conquer the world as secure Italy in its present state. The artillery marches _last_, and alone, and there is an idea of an attempt to cut part of them off. All this will much depend upon the first steps of the Neapolitans. _Here_, the public spirit is excellent, provided it be kept up. This will be seen by the event.

"It is probable that Italy will be delivered from the Barbarians if the Neapolitans will but stand firm, and are united among themselves. _Here_ they appear so.

"February 10. 1821.

"Day pa.s.sed as usual--nothing new. Barbarians still in march--not well equipped, and, of course, not well received on their route. There is some talk of a commotion at Paris.

"Rode out between four and six--finished my letter to Murray on Bowles's pamphlets--added postscript. Pa.s.sed the evening as usual--out till eleven--and subsequently at home.

"February 11. 1821.

"Wrote--had a copy taken of an extract from Petrarch's Letters, with reference to the conspiracy of the Doge, M. Faliero, containing the poet's opinion of the matter. Heard a heavy firing of cannon towards Comacchio--the Barbarians rejoicing for their princ.i.p.al pig's birthday, which is to-morrow--or Saint day--I forget which. Received a ticket for the first ball to-morrow. Shall not go to the first, but intend going to the second, as also to the Veglioni.

"February 13. 1821.

"To-day read a little in Louis B.'s Hollande, but have written nothing since the completion of the letter on the Pope controversy. Politics are quite misty for the present. The Barbarians still upon their march. It is not easy to divine what the Italians will now do.

"Was elected yesterday 'Socio' of the Carnival ball society. This is the fifth carnival that I have pa.s.sed. In the four former, I racketed a good deal. In the present, I have been as sober as Lady Grace herself.

"February 14. 1821

"Much as usual. Wrote, before riding out, part of a scene of 'Sardanapalus.' The first act nearly finished. The rest of the day and evening as before--partly without, in conversazione--partly at home.

"Heard the particulars of the late fray at Russi, a town not far from this. It is exactly the fact of Romeo and Giulietta--_not_ Romeo, as the Barbarian writes it. Two families of Contadini (peasants) are at feud. At a ball, the younger part of the families forget their quarrel, and dance together. An old man of one of them enters, and reproves the young men for dancing with the females of the opposite family. The male relatives of the latter resent this. Both parties rush home and arm themselves. They meet directly, by moonlight, in the public way, and fight it out. Three are killed on the spot, and six wounded, most of them dangerously,--pretty well for two families, methinks--and all _fact_, of the last week. Another a.s.sa.s.sination has taken place at Cesenna,--in all about _forty_ in Romagna within the last three months.

These people retain much of the middle ages.

"February 15. 1821.

"Last night finished the first act of Sardanapalus. To-night, or to-morrow, I ought to answer letters.