]
* * * * *
Feb. 18.
Better than a month since I last journalised:--most of it out of London
and at Notts., but a busy one and a pleasant, at least three weeks of
it. On my return, I find all the newspapers in hysterics, and town in an
uproar, on the avowal and republication of two stanzas on Princess
Charlotte's weeping at Regency's speech to Lauderdale in 1812. [1] They
are daily at it still;--some of the abuse good, all of it hearty. They
talk of a motion in our House upon it--be it so.
Got up--redde the _Morning Post_ containing the battle of Buonaparte,
[2] the destruction of the Customhouse, [3] and a paragraph on me as
long as my pedigree, and vituperative, as usual. [4]
Hobhouse is returned to England. He is my best friend, the most lively,
and a man of the most sterling talents extant.
'The Corsair' has been conceived, written, published, etc., since I last
took up this journal. They tell me it has great success;--it was written
_con amore_, and much from _existence_. Murray is satisfied with its
progress; and if the public are equally so with the perusal, there's an
end of the matter.
Nine o'clock.
Been to Hanson's on business. Saw Rogers, and had a note from Lady
Melbourne, who says, it is said I am "much out of spirits." I wonder if
I really am or not? I have certainly enough of "that perilous stuff
which weighs upon the heart," [5] and it is better they should believe
it to be the result of these attacks than of the real cause; but--ay,
ay, always _but_, to the end of the chapter.
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