February 18th [1814]
Better than a month since I last journalised:—most of it out of London and at Notts., but a busy one and a pleasant, at least three weeks of it. On my
, I find all the newspapers in hysterics, and town in an uproar, on the avowal and republication of two stanzas on Princess Charlotte's weeping at Regency's speech to Lauderdale in 1812
. They are daily at it still;—some of the abuse good, all of it hearty. They talk of a motion in our House upon it—be it so.
Got up—
redde
the
Morning Post
containing the battle of Buonaparte
, the destruction of the Customhouse
, and a paragraph on me as long as my pedigree, and vituperative, as usual
.
Hobhouse is returned to England. He is my best friend, the most lively, and a man of the most sterling talents extant.
The Corsair
has been conceived, written, published, etc., since I last took up this journal. They tell me it has great success;—it was written
con amore
, and much from
existence
. Murray is satisfied with its progress; and if the public are equally so with the perusal, there's an end of the matter.
Nine o'clock.
Been to Hanson's on business. Saw Rogers, and had a note from Lady Melbourne, who says, it is said I am "much out of spirits." I wonder if I really am or not? I
have
certainly enough of "that perilous stuff which weighs upon the heart,"
and it is better they should believe it to be the result of these attacks than of the real cause; but—ay, ay, always
but
, to the end of the chapter.
Hobhouse has told me ten thousand anecdotes of Napoleon, all good and true. My friend H. is the most entertaining of companions, and a fine fellow to boot.
Redde a little—wrote notes and letters, and am alone, which Locke says is bad company. "
Be
not solitary, be not idle."
—Um!—the idleness is troublesome; but I can't see so much to regret in the solitude. The more I see of men, the less I like them. If I could but say so of women too, all would be well. Why can't I? I am now six-and-twenty; my passions have had enough to cool them; my affections more than enough to wither them,—and yet—and yet—always
yet
and
but
—"
Excellent
well, you are a fishmonger—get thee to a nunnery."
—"They fool me to the top of my bent."
Midnight.
Began a letter, which I threw into the fire. Redde—but to little purpose. Did not visit Hobhouse, as I promised and ought. No matter, the loss is mine. Smoked cigars.
Napoleon!—this week will decide his fate. All seems against him; but I believe and hope he will win—at least, beat back the invaders. What right have we to prescribe sovereigns to France? Oh for a Republic! "
Brutus
, thou sleepest."
Hobhouse abounds in continental anecdotes of this extraordinary man; all in favour of his intellect and courage, but against his
bonhommie
. No wonder;—how should he, who knows mankind well, do other than despise and abhor them?
The
greater the equality, the more impartially evil is distributed, and becomes lighter by the division among so many—therefore, a Republic!
More
notes from Madame de Stael unanswered—and so they shall remain.
I admire her abilities, but really her society is overwhelming—an avalanche that buries one in glittering nonsense—all snow and sophistry.
Shall I go to Mackintosh's on Tuesday? um!—I did not go to Marquis Lansdowne's nor to Miss Berry's, though both are pleasant. So is Sir James's,—but I don't know—I believe one is not the better for parties; at least, unless some
regnante
is there.
I wonder how the deuce any body could make such a world; for what purpose dandies, for instance, were ordained—and kings—and fellows of colleges—and women of "a certain age"—and many men of any age—and myself, most of all!
"Divesne prisco natus ab Inacho
Nil interest, an pauper et infimâ
De gente, sub dio (sic) moreris,
Victima nil miserantis Orci.
Omnes eodem cogimur," etc.
12
Is there any thing beyond?—
who
knows?
He
that can't tell. Who tells that there
is
? He who don't know. And when shall he know? perhaps, when he don't expect, and generally when he don't wish it. In this last respect, however, all are not alike: it depends a good deal upon education,—something upon nerves and habits—but most upon digestion.
Footnote 1:
See p. 134,
2, and
.
Footnote 2:
The battle of Brienne was fought February 1, 1814.
Footnote 3:
By fire, on the 12th of February.
Footnote 4:
"We are informed from very good authority, that as soon as the House of Lords meet again, a Peer of very independent principles and character intends to give notice of a motion occasioned by a late spontaneous avowal of a copy of verses by Lord Byron, addressed to the Princess Charlotte of Wales, in which he has taken the most unwarrantable liberties with her august father's character and conduct: this motion being of a personal nature, it will be necessary to give the noble Satirist some days' notice, that he may prepare himself for his defence against a charge of so aggravated a nature," etc.
Morning Post
, February 18.
Footnote 5:
Macbeth
, act v. sc. 3.
Footnote 6:
These words close the penultimate paragraph of Burton's
Anatomy of Melancholy
.
Footnote 7:
Hamlet
, act ii. sc. 2, and act iii. sc. 1.
Footnote 8:
Ibid
., sc. 2.
Footnote 9:
"Brutus, thou sleepest, awake."
Julius Cæsar
, act ii. sc. 1.
Footnote 10:
The following extract from
Detached Thoughts
(1821) implies that this expression of opinion was no passing thought (but see Scott's
, p. 376):
"There is nothing left for Mankind but a Republic, and I think that there are hopes of such. The two Americas (South and North) have it; Spain and Portugal approach it; all thirst for it. Oh Washington!"
Footnote 11:
Here is one of Madame de Staël's notes:
"Je renonce à vos visites, pourvu que vous acceptiez mes diners, car enfin à quoi servirait il de vivre dans le même tems que vous, si l'on ne vous voyait pas? Dinez chez moi dimanche avec vos amis,—je ne dirai pas vos admirateurs, car je n'ai rencontré que cela de touts parts.
"A dimanche, "de Staël.
"Mardi.
"Je prends le silence pour oui."
Footnote 2:
Horace,
Odes
, II. iii. 21,
et seqq.
