1814.] AWKWARD HABITS. 379 Redde some Italian, and wrote two Sonnets on I never wrote but one sonnet before, and that was not in earnest, and many years ago, as an exercise-and I will never write another. They are the most puling, petrifying, stupidly platonic compositions. I detest the Petrarch so much, that I would not be the man even to have obtained his Laura, which the metaphysical, whining dotard never could. January 16, 1814. She To-morrow I leave town for a few days. I saw Lewis to-day, who is just returned from Oatlands, where he has been squabbling with Mad. de Stael about himself, Clarissa Harlowe, Mackintosh, and me. My homage has never been paid in that quarter, or we would have agreed still worse. I don't talk-I can't flatter, and won't listen, except to a pretty or a foolish woman. bored Lewis with praises of himself till he sickenedfound out that Clarissa was perfection, and Mackintosh the first man in England. There I agree, at least one of the first-but Lewis did not. As to Clarissa, I leave to those who can read it to judge and dispute. I could not do the one, and am, consequently, not qualified for the other. She told Lewis wisely, he being my friend, that I was affected, in the first place; and that, in the next place, I committed the heinous offence of sitting at dinner with my eyes shut, or half shut. I wonder if I really have this trick. I must cure myself of it, if true. One insensibly acquires awkward habits, which should be broken in time. If this is one, I wish I had been told of it before. It would not so much signify if one was written by Coleridge and Southey, and published in the Morning Post for September 6, 1799, under the title of The Devil's Thoughts. always to be checkmated by a plain woman, but one may as well see some of one's neighbours, as well as the plate upon the table. I should like, of all things, to have heard the Amabæan eclogue between her and Lewis-both obstinate, clever, odd, garrulous, and shrill. In fact, one could have heard nothing else. But they fell out, alas !—and now they will never quarrel again. Could not one reconcile them for the "nonce?" Poor Corinne-she will find that some of her fine sayings won't suit our fine ladies and gentlemen. I am getting rather into admiration of [Lady C. Annesley] the youngest sister of [Lady F. Webster]. A wife would be my salvation. I am sure the wives of my acquaintances have hitherto done me little good. Catherine is beautiful, but very young, and, I think, a fool. But I have not seen enough to judge; besides, I hate an esprit in petticoats. That she won't love me is very probable, nor shall I love her. But, on my system, and the modern system in general, that don't signify. The business (if it came to business) would probably be arranged between papa and me. She would have her own way; I am good-humoured to women, and docile; and, if I did not fall in love with her, which I should try to prevent, we should be a very comfortable couple. As to conduct, that she must look to. But if I love, I shall be jealous;-and for that reason I will not be in love. Though, after all, I doubt my temper, and fear I should not be so patient as becomes the bienséance of a married man in my station. Divorce ruins the poor femme, and damages are a paltry compensation. I do fear my temper would lead me into some of our oriental tricks of vengeance, or, at any rate, into a summary appeal to the court of twelve paces. So 1814.] POLITICS NOT WORTH AN OPINION. 381 "I'll none on't," but e'en remain single and solitary ;though I should like to have somebody now and then to yawn with one. Ward, and, after him, **, has stolen one of my buffooneries about Mde. de Stael's Metaphysics and the Fog, and passed it, by speech and letter, as their own. As Gibbet says, "they are the most of a gentleman of "any on the road." W. is in sad enmity with the Whigs about this Review of Fox 2 (if he did review him) ;—all the epigrammatists and essayists are at him. I hate odds, and wish he may beat them. As for me, by the blessing of indifference, I have simplified my politics into an utter detestation of all existing governments; and, as it is the shortest and most agreeable and summary feeling imaginable, the first moment of an universal republic would convert me into an advocate for single and uncontradicted despotism. The fact is, riches are power, and poverty is slavery all over the earth, and one sort of establishment is no better nor worse for a people than another. I shall adhere to my party, because it would not be honourable to act otherwise; but, as to opinions, I don't think politics worth an opinion. Conduct is another thing if you begin with a party, go on with them. have no consistency, except in politics; and that probably arises from my indifference on the subject altogether. Feb. 18. Better than a month since I last journalised :—most of it out of London and at Notts., but a busy one and a 1. The Beaux Stratagem, by George Farquhar (act iv. sc. 3): "Gibbet. And I can assure you, friend, there's a great deal of "address and good manners in robbing a lady: I am most a gentleman that way that ever travelled the road." 2. An article by Ward on The Correspondence of Gilbert Wakefield with Mr. Fox, in the Quarterly Review for July, 1813. pleasant, at least three weeks of it. On my return, 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 1. See p. 134, note 2, and Appendix VII. 2. The battle of Brienne was fought February 1, 1814. 3. By fire, on the 12th of February. 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. 1814.] SOLITARY AND IDLE. 383 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. If I could but say so Redde a little-wrote notes and letters, and am alone, which Locke says is bad company. "Be not solitary, "be not idle." 2-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. of women too, all would be well. now six-and-twenty; my passions cool them; my affections more than enough to wither them, and yet-and yet-always yet and but-" Excel"lent well, you are a fishmonger-get thee to a nunnery.” 3 "They fool me to the top of my bent." have had enough to "3 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 1. Macbeth, act v. sc. 3. 2. These words close the penultimate paragraph of Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy. 3. Hamlet, act ii. sc. 2, and act iii. sc. I. 4. Ibid., sc. 2. į |