“He says also that Dante’s chief defect is a want, in a word, of gentle feelings.  Of gentle feelings!—­and Francesca of Rimini—­and the father’s feelings in Ugolino—­and Beatrice—­and ‘La Pia!’ Why, there is gentleness in Dante beyond all gentleness, when he is tender.  It is true that, treating of the Christian Hades, or Hell, there is not much scope or site for gentleness—­but who but Dante could have introduced any ‘gentleness’ at all into Hell?  Is there any in Milton’s?  No—­and Dante’s Heaven is all love, and glory, and majesty.

“One o’clock.

“I have found out, however, where the German is right—­it is about the Vicar of Wakefield.  ’Of all romances in miniature (and, perhaps, this is the best shape in which romance can appear) the Vicar of Wakefield is, I think, the most exquisite.’  He thinks!—­he might be sure.  But it is very well for a S * *.  I feel sleepy, and may as well get me to bed.  To-morrow there will be fine weather.

    “’Trust on, and think to-morrow will repay.”

“January 30. 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 * * *—­* * *.[22] Things seem fast coming to a crisis—­ca 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.

[Footnote 22:  In the original MS. these watch-words are blotted over so as to be illegible.]

“January, 31. 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 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 Rochefoucalt 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?