“If I had any views in this country, they would probably be parliamentary.  But I have no ambition; at least, if any, it would be ‘aut Caesar aut nihil.’  My hopes are limited to the arrangement of my affairs, and settling either in Italy or the East (rather the last), and drinking deep of the languages and literature of both.  Past events have unnerved me; and all I can now do is to make life an amusement, and look on while others play.  After all, even the highest game of crowns and sceptres, what is it? Vide Napoleon’s last twelve-month.  It has completely upset my system of fatalism.  I thought, if crushed, he would have fallen, when ‘fractus illabitur orbis,’ and not have been pared away to gradual insignificance; that all this was not a mere jeu of the gods, but a prelude to greater changes and mightier events.  But men never advance beyond a certain point; and here we are, retrograding to the dull, stupid old system,—­balance of Europe—­poising straws upon kings’ noses, instead of wringing them off!  Give me a republic, or a despotism of one, rather than the mixed government of one, two, three.  A republic!—­look in the history of the Earth—­Rome, Greece, Venice, France, Holland, America, our short (eheu!) Commonwealth, and compare it with what they did under masters.  The Asiatics are not qualified to be republicans, but they have the liberty of demolishing despots, which is the next thing to it.  To be the first man—­not the Dictator—­not the Sylla, but the Washington or the Aristides—­the leader in talent and truth—­is next to the Divinity!  Franklin, Penn, and, next to these, either Brutus or Cassius—­even Mirabeau—­or St. Just.  I shall never be any thing, or rather always be nothing.  The most I can hope is, that some will say, ‘He might, perhaps, if he would.’

“12, midnight.

“Here are two confounded proofs from the printer.  I have looked at the one, but for the soul of me, I can’t look over that ‘Giaour’ again,—­at least, just now, and at this hour—­and yet there is no moon.

“Ward talks of going to Holland, and we have partly discussed an ensemble expedition.  It must be in ten days, if at all, if we wish to be in at the Revolution.  And why not? * * is distant, and will be at * *, still more distant, till spring.  No one else, except Augusta, cares for me; no ties—­no trammels—­andiamo dunque—­se torniamo, bene—­se non, ch’ importa?  Old William of Orange talked of dying in ‘the last ditch’ of his dingy country.  It is lucky I can swim, or I suppose I should not well weather the first.  But let us see.  I have heard hyaenas and jackalls in the ruins of Asia; and bull-frogs in the marshes; besides wolves and angry Mussulmans.  Now, I should like to listen to the shout of a free Dutchman.

“Alla!  Viva!  For ever!  Hourra!  Huzza!—­which is the most rational or musical of these cries?  ‘Orange Boven,’ according to the Morning Post.

“Wednesday, 24.