I am reading “Ivanhoe” for the first time, and delighted with it, but things cannot be as they should be, when I feel that I require to forget myself in order to be happy, and that unless I am taken up with an interesting book there never, or scarcely ever, is a moment of real peace and quiet for my poor weary mind.  What is it I wish for?  O God, Thou alone canst clearly know—­and in Thy hands alone is the remedy.  Oh let this longing cease!  Turn it, O Father, to a worthy object!  Unworthy it must now be, for were it after virtue, pure holy virtue, could I not still it?  Dispel the mist that dims my eyes, that I may first plainly read the secrets of my wretched heart, and then give me, O Almighty God, the sincere will to root out all therein that beareth not good fruit....

    February 4, 1836, ADMIRALTY

The great day of the opening of Parliament.  Soon after breakfast we prepared to go to the House of Lords—­that is to say, we made ourselves great figures with feathers and finery.  The day has been, unfortunately, rainy and cold, and made our dress look still more absurd.  The King did not come till two, so that we had plenty of time to see all the old lords assembling.  Their robes looked very handsome, and I think His Majesty was the least dignified-looking person in the house.  I cannot describe exactly all that went on.  There was nothing impressive, but it was very amusing.  The poor old man could not see to read his speech, and after he had stammered half through it Lord Melbourne was obliged to hold a candle to him, and he read it over again.  Lord Melbourne looked very like a Prime Minister, but the more I see him and so many good and clever men obliged to do, at least in part, the bidding of anyone who happens to be born to Royalty, the more I wish that things were otherwise—­however, as long as it is only in forms that one sees them give him the superiority one does not much mind.  After the debate, several of Papa’s friends came to dine here.  Lord Melbourne, Lord Lansdowne, Lord Glenelg, and the Duke of Richmond, who has won my heart—­they talked very pleasantly.

    March 9, 1836, ADMIRALTY

I wonder what it is that makes one sometimes like and sometimes dislike balls, etc.  It does not always depend on whom one meets.  I am sure it is not, as most books and people seem to think, from love of admiration that one is fond of them or else how should I ever be so, when it is so impossible for anybody ever to admire my looks or think me agreeable?  I sometimes wish I was pretty.  And I do not think it is a very foolish wish:  it would give me courage to be agreeable.

All through this year there are many troubled entries: 

    March 28, 1836, ADMIRALTY