August 11.—­Wrote nearly five pages; then walked.  A visit from Henry Scott;[21] nothing known as yet about politics.  A high Tory Administration would be a great evil at this time.  There are repairs in the structure of our constitution which ought to be made at this season, and without which the people will not long be silent.  A pure Whig Administration would probably play the devil by attempting a thorough repair.  As to a compound, or melo-dramatic, Ministry, the parts out of which such a one could be organised just now are at a terrible discount in public estimation, nor will they be at par in a hurry again.  The public were generally shocked at the complete lack of principle testified by public men on the late occasion, and by some who till then had some credit with the public.  The Duke of W. has risen by his firmness on the one side, Earl Grey on the other.

August 12.—­Wrote my task and no more.  Walked with Lockhart from one o’clock to four.  Took in our way the Glen, which looks beautiful.  I walked with extreme pain and feebleness until we began to turn homewards, when the relaxation of the ankle sinews seemed to be removed, and I trode merrily home.  This is strange; that exercise should restore the nerves from the chill or numbness which is allied to palsy, I am well aware, but how it should restore elasticity to sinews that are too much relaxed, I for one cannot comprehend.  Colonel Russell came to dinner with us, and to consult me about some family matters.  He has the spirit of a gentleman; that is certain.

August 13.—­A letter from booksellers at Brussels informs me of the pleasant tidings that Napoleon is a total failure; that they have lost much money on a version which they were at great expense in preparing, and modestly propose that I should write a novel to make them amends for loss on a speculation which I knew nothing about.  “Have you nothing else to ask?” as Sancho says to the farmer, who asks him to stock a farm for his son, portion off his daughters, etc. etc.  They state themselves to be young booksellers; certes, they must hold me to be a very young author!  Napoleon, however, has failed on the Continent—­and perhaps in England also; for, from the mumbling, half-grumbling tone of Longman and Co., dissatisfaction may be apprehended.  Well, I can set my face to it boldly.  I live not in the public opinion, not I; but egad!  I live by it, and that is worse. Tu ne cede malis, sed contra, etc.

I corrected and transmitted sheets before breakfast; afterwards went and cut wood with Tom, but returned about twelve in rather a melancholy humour.  I fear this failure may be followed by others; and then what chance of extricating my affairs.  But they that look to freits, freits will follow them. Hussards en avant,—­care killed a cat.  I finished three pages—­that is, a full task of the Chronicles—­after I returned.  Mr. and Mrs. Philips of Manchester came to dinner.