December 20.—­I like Ch.  Ba.  Shepherd very much—–­ as much, I think, as any man I have learned to know of late years.  There is a neatness and precision, a closeness and truth, in the tone of his conversation, which shows what a lawyer he must have been.  Perfect good-humour and suavity of manner, with a little warmth of temper on suitable occasions.  His great deafness alone prevented him from being Lord Chief-Justice.  I never saw a man so patient under such a malady.  He loves society, and converses excellently; yet is often obliged, in a mixed company particularly, to lay aside his trumpet, retire into himself, and withdraw from the talk.  He does this with an expression of patience on his countenance which touches one much.  He has occasion for patience otherwise, I should think, for Lady S. is fine and fidgety, and too anxious to have everything pointe devise.

Constable’s licence for the Dedication is come, which will make him happy.[83]

Dined with James Ballantyne, and met my old friend Mathews, the comedian, with his son, now grown up a clever, rather forward lad, who makes songs in the style of James Smith or Colman, and sings them with spirit; rather lengthy though.

December 21.—­There have been odd associations attending my two last meetings with Mathews.  The last time I saw him, before yesterday evening, he dined with me in company with poor Sir Alexander Boswell, who was killed within two or three months.[84] I never saw Sir Alexander more.[85] The time before was in 1815, when John Scott of Gala and I were returning from France, and passed through London, when we brought Mathews down as far as Leamington.  Poor Byron lunched, or rather made an early dinner, with us at Long’s, and a most brilliant day we had of it.  I never saw Byron so full of fun, frolic, wit, and whim:  he was as playful as a kitten.  Well, I never saw him again.[86] So this man of mirth, with his merry meetings, has brought me no luck.  I like better that he should throw in his talent of mimicry and humour into the present current tone of the company, than that he should be required to give this, that, and t’other bit selected from his public recitations.  They are good certainly—­excellent; but then you must laugh, and that is always severe to me.  When I do laugh in sincerity, the joke must be or seem unpremeditated.  I could not help thinking, in the midst of the glee, what gloom had lately been over the minds of three of the company, Cadell, J.B., and the Journalist.  What a strange scene if the surge of conversation could suddenly ebb like the tide, and [show] us the state of people’s real minds!  Savary[87] might have been gay in such a party with all his forgeries in his heart.

    “No eyes the rooks discover
    Which lurk beneath the deep."[88]

Life could not be endured were it seen in reality.