and may as well get me to bed. To-morrow there will be fine weather.

Trust on,

and think to-morrow will repay.

« January 30th, 1821.

« The Count P. G. this evening (by commission from the Ci.) transmitted to me the new words for the next six months. *** and***. The new sacred word is ***. -The reply the rejoinder ***. The former word (now changed) was -there is also ** *. Things seem fast coming to a crisis-ça ira!

***

***

"We talked over various matters of moment and movement. These I omit ;-if they come to any thing, they will speak for themselves. After these, we spoke of Kosciusko. Count R. G. told me that he has seen the Polish officers in the Italian war burst into tears on hearing his name.

« Something must be up in Piedmont-all the letters and papers are stopped. Nobody knows any thing, and the Germans are concentrating near Mantua. Of the decision of Leybach, nothing is known. This state of things cannot last long. The ferment in men's minds at present cannot be conceived without seeing it.

« January 31st, 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

In the original MS. these watch-words are blotted over so as to be illegible.

VOL. IV.

3

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 Rochefoucault says that laziness often masters them all'-speaking of the passions. 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 passions only: ergo, that which masters all the passions (laziness, to wit) would in so much be a good. Who knows?

<< I have been reading Grimm's Correspondence. He repeats frequently, in speaking of a poet, or of 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?

6

« 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 Guinguené-but there we should pause. However, 't is a great man in its

« Monsieur St Lambert has

Et lorsqu'à ses regards la lumière est ravie, Il n'a plus, en mourant, à 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) damned, as a poet, by this time. However, his Seasons have good things, and, it may be, some of his own.

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 overflowing 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. If 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 balls in London, between 1812 and 1815. Music is a strange thing.

« At last, the kiln 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 inrolled Americani, who are all on tiptoe to march.

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.

Gave orders 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 9th, 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 pass the Po on the 15th inst. Instead of this, from some previous information or otherwise, they have hastened their march and actually passed 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.