“——­cette vie enivrante,
    Que le solei du sud inspire a tous les sens.”

* * * * *

11 at night.—­Fatigue and excitement have lately proved too much for me:  but I will not sink.  I will yet bear up; and when a day thus passed amid scenes like those of a romance, amid all that would once have charmed my imagination, and enchanted my senses, brings no real pleasure, but is ended, as now it ends, in tears, in bitterness of heart, in languor, in sickness, and in pain—­ah! let me remember the lesson of resignation I have lately learned; and by elevating my thoughts to a better world, turn to look upon the miserable affections which have agitated me here as——­[E]

Could I but become as insensible, as regardless of the painful past as I am of the all lovely present!  Why was I proud of my victory over passion? alas! what avails it that I have shaken the viper from my hand, if I have no miraculous antidote against the venom which has mingled with my life-blood, and clogged the pulses of my heart!  But the antidote of Paul—­even faith—­may it not be mine if I duly seek it?

* * * * *

Arona, on the banks of the Lago Maggiore.—­Rousseau mentions somewhere, that it was once his intention to place the scene of the Heloise in the Borromean Islands.  What a French idea!  How strangely incongruous had the pastoral simplicity of his lovers appeared in such a scene!  It must have changed, if not the whole plan, at least the whole colouring of the tale.  Imagine la divine JULIE tripping up and down the artificial terraces of the Isola Bella, among flower pots and statues, and colonnades and grottos; and St. Preux sighing towards her, from some trim fantastic wilderness in the Isola Madre!

The day was heavenly, and I shall never forget the sunset, as we viewed it reflected in the lake, which appeared at one moment an expanse of living fire.  This is the first we have seen of those effulgent sunsets with which Italy will make us familiar.

Milan.—­Our journey yesterday, through the flat fertile plains of Lombardy, was not very interesting; and the want of novelty and excitement made it fatiguing, in spite of the matchless roads and the celerity with which we travelled.

Whatever we may think of Napoleon in England, it is impossible to travel on the Continent, and more particularly through Lombardy, without being struck with the magnificence and vastness of his public works—­either designed or executed.  He is more regretted here than in France; or rather he has not been so soon banished from men’s minds.  In Italy he followed the rational policy of depressing the nobles, and providing occupation and amusement for the lower classes.  I spoke to-day with an intelligent artisan, who pointed out to us a hall built near the public walk by Napoleon, for the people to dance and assemble in, when the weather was unfavourable.  The man concluded some very animated and sensible remarks on the late events, by adding expressively, that though many had been benefited by the change, there was to him and all others of his class as much difference between the late reign and the present, as between l’or et le fer.