That Muscovite winter _wedged_ his arms;--ever
since, he has fought with his feet and teeth. The last may still leave
their marks; and "I guess now" (as the Yankees say) that he will yet
play them a pass. He is in their rear--between them and their homes.
Query--will they ever reach them?
[Footnote 1: He adopted this thought afterwards in his 'Ode to
Napoleon', as well as most of the historical examples in the following
paragraph:
"He who of old would rend the oak,
Dream'd not of the rebound;
Chain'd by the trunk he vainly broke--
Alone--how look'd he round?"]
* * * * *
Saturday, April 9, 1814.
I mark this day!
Napoleon Buonaparte has abdicated the throne of the world. "Excellent
well." Methinks Sylla did better; for he revenged and resigned in the
height of his sway, red with the slaughter of his foes--the finest
instance of glorious contempt of the rascals upon record. Dioclesian did
well too--Amurath not amiss, had he become aught except a
dervise--Charles the Fifth but so so--but Napoleon, worst of all. What!
wait till they were in his capital, and then talk of his readiness to
give up what is already gone!! "What whining monk art thou--what holy
cheat?" [1] 'Sdeath!--Dionysius at Corinth was yet a king to this. The
"Isle of Elba" to retire to!--Well--if it had been Caprea, I should have
marvelled less. "I see men's minds are but a parcel of their fortunes."
[2] I am utterly bewildered and confounded.
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