ledge, for he corresponds with me, But he is not a bloody fellow-only an avaricious

one.

66

It seems that, just at this moment (as Lydia Languish says), there will be no elopement after all. I wish that I had known as much last night—or, rather, this morning - I should have gone to bed two hours earlier. And yet I ought not to complain; for, though it is a sirocco, and heavy rain, I have not yawned for these two days.

Came home-read History of Greece - before dinner had read Walter Scott's Rob Roy. Wrote address to the letter in answer to Alessio del Pinto, who has thanked me for helping his brother (the late Commandant, murdered here last month) in his last moments. Have told him I only did a duty of humanity—as is true. The brother

lives at Rome.

66

Mended the fire with some 'sgobole' (a Romagnuole word), and gave the falcon some water. Drank some Seltzer-water. Mem. received to-day a print, or etching, of the story of Ugolino, by an Italian painter -different, of course, from Sir Joshua Reynolds's, and I think (as far as recollection goes) no worse, for Reynolds's is not good in history, 1 Tore a button in my new coat.

"I wonder what figure these Italians will make in a regular row. I sometimes think that, like the Irishman's gun (somebody had sold him a crooked one), they will only do for 'shooting round a corner;' at least, this sort of shooting has been the late tenor of their exploits. And yet there are materials in this people, and a noble energy, if well directed. But who is to direct them? No matter. Out of such times heroes spring. Difficulties are the hotbeds of high spirits,

1["The subject is said, by Cumberland, to have been suggested to Sir Joshua by Goldsmith. The merit lies in the execution; and even this seems of a disputable excellence. The lofty and stern sufferer of Dante appears on Reynolds's canvass like a famished mendicant, deficient in any commanding qualities of intellect, and regardless of his dying children who cluster around his knees." Brit. Painters, vol. i. p. 268.

"The dungeon of Bonnivard" (the Prisoner of Chillon) "is, like that of Ugolino, a subject too dismal even for the power of the painter or poet to counteract its horrors. It is the more disagreeable, as affording human hope no anchor to rest upon, and describing the sufferer, though a man of talents and virtues, as altogether inert and powerless under his accumulated sufferings."-SIR WALTER SCOTT.]

2["There is an offence against simplicity which should be shunned; though it occurs often in Johnson, and though the abstract terms, affected by him, give a kind of false pomp to the style, assuming the air of personification. He thus commences his imitation of the tenth satire of Juvenal;

and Freedom the mother of the few virtues incident to human nature.

"Tuesday, January 9. 1821. "Rose-the day fine. Ordered the horses; steward or chief servant) coming to tell me but Lega (my secretary, an Italianism for that the painter had finished the work in fresco, for the room he has been employed on lately, I went to see it before I set out. from Titian, &c. considering all things. The painter has not copied badly the prints

"Dined. Read Johnson's Vanity of Human Wishes,' all the examples and mode of giving them sublime, as well as the latter part, with the exception of an occasional couplet. I do not so much admire the opening. I remember an observation of Sharpe's, (the Conversationist, as he was that the first line of this poem was supercalled in London, and a very clever man,) fluous, and that Pope (the best of poets, I think,) would have begun at once, only changing the punctuation

"Survey mankind from China to Peru.' 2 The former line, Let observation,' &c. is certainly heavy and useless. But 'tis a grand poem - and so true!-true as the 10th of Juvenal himself. The lapse of ages changes all things-time-language- the earth the bounds of the sea -the stars of the sky, and every thing about, around, and underneath' man, except man himself, who has always been, and always will be, an unlucky rascal. The infinite variety of lives conduct but to death, and the infinity of wishes lead but to disappointment. All the discoveries which have yet been made have multiplied little but existence. An extirpated disease

'Let observation, with extensive view, Survey mankind from China to Peru.' Dryden and Pope would have been satisfied with the second line, and would have avoided both the tautology and pomposity of the first."- Sharp's Letters to a Young Friend at College; Essays, p. 47. ed. 1834.]

4

3 ["Time hovers o'er, impatient to destroy,
And shuts up all the passages of joy :

In vain their gifts the bounteous seasons pour,
The fruit autumnal, and the vernal flow'r ;
With listless eyes the dotard views the store,
He views, and wonders that they please no more."
Vanity of Human Wishes.]

["What opposite discoveries we have seen!

(Signs of true genius, and of empty pockets)
One makes new noses, one a guillotine,
One breaks your bones, one sets them in the sockets:
But vaccination certainly has been

A kind antithesis to Congreve's rockets," &c.
Don Juan, c. i. st. 129.]

is succeeded by some new pestilence; and a discovered world has brought little to the old one, except the p-first and freedom afterwards -the latter a fine thing, parti- | cularly as they gave it to Europe in exchange for slavery. But it is doubtful whether the Sovereigns' would not think the first the best present of the two to their subjects.

"At eight went out - heard some news. They say the King of Naples has declared by couriers from Florence, to the Powers (as they call now those wretches with crowns), that his Constitution was compulsive, &c. &c. and that the Austrian barbarians are placed again on war pay, and will march. Let them they come like sacrifices in their trim,' the hounds of hell! Let it still be a hope to see their bones piled like those of the human dogs at Morat, in Switzerland, which I have seen.

1

"Heard some music. At nine the usual visitors news, war, or rumours of war. Consulted with P. G. &c. &c. They mean to insurrect here, and are to honour me with a call thereupon. I shall not fall back; though I don't think them in force or heart sufficient to make much of it. But, onward! -it is now the time to act, and what signifies self, if a single spark of that which would be worthy of the past can be bequeathed unquenchedly to the future? It is not one man, nor a million, but the spirit of liberty which must be spread. The waves which dash upon the shore are, one by one, broken, but yet the ocean conquers, nevertheless. It overwhelms the Armada, it wears the rock, and, if the Neptunians are to be believed, it has not only destroyed, but made a world. In like manner, whatever the sacrifice of individuals, the great cause will gather strength, sweep down what is rugged, and fertilise (for sea-weed is manure) what is cultivable. And so, the mere selfish calculation ought never to be made on such occasions; and, at present, it shall not be computed by me. I was never a good arithmetician of chances, and shall not commence now.

"Read the letters. Corrected the tra gedy and the Hints from Horace.' Dined, and got into better spirits. Went out-returned finished letters, five in number, Read Poets, and an anecdote in Spence.

All. writes to me that the Pope, and Duke of Tuscany, and King of Sardinia, have also been called to Congress; but the Pope will only deal there by proxy. So the inte rests of millions are in the hands of about twenty coxcombs, at a place called Leibach!

"I should almost regret that my own affairs went well, when those of nations are in peril. If the interests of mankind could be essentially bettered (particularly of these oppressed Italians), I should not so much mind my own 'sma peculiar.' God grant us all better times, or more philosophy!

upon

an

"In reading, I have just chanced expression of Tom Campbell's ;- speaking of Collins, he says that no reader cares any more about the characteristic manners of his Eclogues than about the authenticity of the tale of Troy.' 'Tis false we do care about 'the authenticity of the tale of Troy.' I have stood upon that plain daily, for more than a month in 1810; and if any thing di minished my pleasure, it was that the blackguard Bryant had impugned its veracity." It is true I read Homer Travestied' (the first twelve books), because Hobhouse and others bored me with their learned localities, and I love quizzing. But I still venerated the grand original as the truth of history (in

3 [

"I've stood upon Achilles' tomb, And heard Troy doubted ;-time will doubt of Rome.” Don Juan, c. iv. st. 101.]

the material facts) and of place. Otherwise, it would have given me no delight. Who will persuade me, when I reclined upon a mighty tomb, that it did not contain a hero? its very magnitude proved this. Men do not labour over the ignoble and petty dead --and why should not the dead be Homer's dead? The secret of Tom Campbell's defence of inaccuracy in costume and description is, that his Gertrude, &c. has no more locality in common with Pennsylvania than with Penmanmaur. It is notoriously full of grossly false scenery, as all Americans declare, though they praise parts of the poem. It is thus that self-love for ever creeps out, like a snake, to sting any thing which happens, even accidentally, to stumble upon it.

"January 12. 1821.

“ The weather still so humid and impracticable, that London, in its most oppressive fogs, were a summer-bower to this mist and sirocco, which has now lasted (but with one day's interval), chequered with snow or heavy rain only, since the 30th of December, 1820. It is so far lucky that I have a literary turn; - but it is very tiresome not to be able to stir out, in comfort, on any horse but Pegasus, for so many days. The roads are even worse than the weather, by the long splashing, and the heavy soil, and the growth of the waters.

66

Read the Poets - English, that is to say -out of Campbell's edition. There is a good deal of taffeta in some of Tom's prefatory phrases, but his work is good as a whole. I like him best, though, in his own poetry.

66

Murray writes that they want to act the Tragedy of Marino Faliero more fools they, it was written for the closet. I have protested against this piece of usurpation, (which, it seems, is legal for managers over any printed work, against the author's will,) and I hope they will not attempt it. Why don't they bring out some of the numberless aspirants for theatrical celebrity, now encumbering their shelves, instead of lugging me out of the library? I have written a fierce protest against any such attempt; but I still would hope that it will not be necessary, and that they will see, at once, that it is not intended for the stage. It is too regular - the time, twenty-four hours - the change of place not frequent-nothing melodramatic - no surprises, no starts, nor trapdoors, nor opportunities for tossing their heads and kicking their heels' — and no love -the grand ingredient of a modern play.

"I have found out the seal cut on Murray's letter. It is meant for Walter Scottor Sir Walter- he is the first poet knighted since Sir Richard Blackmore. But it does not do him justice. Scott's - particularly when he recites is a very intelligent countenance, and this seal says nothing.

"Scott is certainly the most wonderful writer of the day. His novels are a new literature in themselves, and his poetry as good as any - if not better (only on an erroneous system)—and only ceased to be so popular, because the vulgar learned were tired of hearing ، Aristides called the Just,' and Scott the Best, and ostracised him.

6

"I like him, too, for his manliness of character, for the extreme pleasantness of his conversation, and his good-nature towards myself, personally. May he prosper! - for he deserves it. I know no reading to which I fall with such alacrity as a work of W. Scott's. I shall give the seal, with his bust on it, to Madame la Comtesse G. this evening, who will be curious to have the effigies of a man so celebrated.

"How strange are our thoughts, &c. &c. &c. 1

"Midnight.

"Read the Italian translation by Guido Sorelli of the German Grillparzer - -a devil of a name, to be sure, for posterity; but they must learn to pronounce it. With all the allowance for a translation, and above all, an Italian translation (they are the very worst of translators, except from the ClassicsAnnibale Caro, for instance - and there, the bastardy of their language helps them, as, by way of looking legitimate, they ape their father's tongue); - but with every allowance for such a disadvantage, the tragedy of Sappho is superb and sublime! There is no denying it. The man has done a great thing in writing that play. And who is he? I know him not; but ages will. 'Tis a high intellect.

"I must premise, however, that I have read nothing of Adolph Müllner's (the author of Guilt'), and much less of Goethe, and Schiller, and Wieland, than I could wish. I only know them through the medium of English, French, and Italian translations. Of the real language I know absolutely nothing, -except oaths learned from postillions and officers in a squabble. I can swear in German potently, when I like-Sacrament

an Irish bogtrotter,' &c. &c. Now I, who know Dr. Parr, and who know (not by experience for I never should have presumed so far as to contend with him- but by hearing him with others, and of others) that it is not so easy a matter to dress him,' thought Mr. Edgeworth an assertor of what was not true. He could not have stood before Parr an instant. For the rest, he seemed intelligent, vehement, vivacious, and full of life. He bids fair for a hundred years. 1

He was not much admired in London, and I remember a 'ryghte merrie' and conceited jest which was rife among the gallants of the day, - viz. a paper had been presented for the recall of Mrs. Siddons to the stage, (she having lately taken leave, to the loss of for nothing ever was, or can be, like her,) to which all men had been called to subscribe. Whereupon Thomas Moore, of profane and poetical memory, did propose that a similar paper should be subscribed and circumscribed for the recall of Mr. Edgeworth to Ireland.'

ages,

---

The fact was— every body cared more about her. She was a nice little unassuming 'Jeanie Deans-looking body,' as we Scotch say and, if not handsome, certainly not ill-looking. Her conversation was as quiet as herself. One would never have guessed she could write her name; whereas her father talked, not as if he could write nothing else, but as if nothing else was worth writing.

"As for Mrs. Edgeworth, I forget -except that I think she was the youngest of the party. Altogether, they were an excellent cage of the kind; and succeeded for two months, till the landing of Madame de

Stael.

"To turn from them to their works, I admire them; but they excite no feeling, and they leave no love-except for some Irish steward or postillion. However, the impression of intellect and prudence is profound and may be useful.

"January 21. 1821. "Rode-fired pistols. Read from Grimm's Correspondence. Dined-went out—heard

1 [Mr. Edgeworth died in 1817, in his seventy-fourth year.]

In this I rather think he was misinformed; whatever merit there may be in the jest, I have not, as far as I can recollect, the slightest claim to it.

["In my first enthusiasm of admiration, I thought that Miss Edgeworth had first made fiction useful; but every fiction since Homer has taught friendship, patriotism, generosity, contempt of death. These are the highest virtues; and the fictions which taught them were therefore of the highest, though not of unmixed utility. Miss Edgeworth inculcates prudence, and the many virtues of that family. Are these excellent virtues higher

con

'Fine, clear, frosty day-that is to say, an Italian frost, for their winters hardly get beyond snow; for which reason nobody knows how to skate (or skait)a Dutch and English accomplishment. Rode out, as usual, and fired pistols. Good shootingbroke four common, and rather small, bottles, in four shots, at fourteen paces, with a common pair of pistols and indifferent powder. Almost as good wafering or shooting sidering the difference of powder and pistol, -as when, in 1809, 1810, 1811, 1812, 1813, 1814, it was my luck to split walking-sticks, wafers, half-crowns, shillings, and even the eye of a walking-stick, at twelve paces, with a single bullet and all by eye and calculation; for my hand is not steady, and apt to change with the very weather. To the prowess which I here note, Joe Manton and others can bear testimony; for the former taught, and the latter has seen me do, these feats.

66 Dined visited - came home-read. Remarked on an anecdote in Grimm's Correspondence, which says that Regnard et la plupart des poëtes comiques étaient gens bilieux et mélancoliques; et que M. de Voltaire, qui est très gai, n'a jamais fait que des tragedies et que la comédie gaie est le seul genre où il n'ait point réussi. C'est que celui qui rit et celui qui fait rire sont deux hommes fort différens.' Vol. VI.

"At this moment I feel as bilious as the

best comic writer of them all, (even as Regnard himself, the next to Molière, who has written some of the best comedies in any language, and who is supposed to have committed suicide +,) and am not in spirits to continue my proposed tragedy of Sardanapalus, which I have, for some days, ceased to

compose.

or more useful than those of fortitude and benevolence? Certainly not. Where, then, is Miss Edgeworth's merit? Her merit- her extraordinary merit, both as a moralist' and as a woman of genius-consists in her having selected a class of virtues far more difficult to treat as the subject of i fiction than others, and which had therefore been left by former writers to her."-SIR JAMES MACKINTOSH: Life, vol. ii. p. 42.]

♦ [Regnard died in 1709, in his fifty-second year. It has || been said that he died of chagrin, nay, that he voluntarily shortened his days; but these reports are contradicted in the Dictionnaire Historique, ed. 1811.]