“Two days missed in my log-book;—hiatus haud deflendus. They were as little worth recollection as the rest; and, luckily, laziness or society prevented me from notching them.
“Sunday, I dined with the Lord
Holland in St. James’s-square. Large party—among them Sir S. Romilly and Lady Ry.—General Sir Somebody Bentham, a man
of science and talent, I am told—Horner—the Horner, an Edinburgh Reviewer, an
excellent speaker in the ‘Honourable House,’ very pleasing, too, and
gentlemanly in company,
| 456 | NOTICES OF THE | A. D. 1813. |
“Why does Lady H. always have that damned screen between the whole room and the fire? I, who bear cold no better than an antelope, and never yet found a sun quite done to my taste, was absolutely petrified, and could not even shiver. All the rest, too, looked as if they were just unpacked, like salmon from an ice-basket, and set down to table for that day only. When she retired, I watched their looks as I dismissed the screen, and every cheek thawed, and every nose reddened with the anticipated glow.
“Saturday, I went with Harry Fox to Nourjahad; and, I believe, convinced him, by incessant yawning, that it was not mine. I wish the precious author would own it, and release me from his fame. The dresses are pretty, but not in costume;—Mrs. Horne’s, all but the turban, and the want of a small dagger (if she is a Sultana), perfect. I never saw a Turkish woman with a turban in my life—nor did any one else. The Sultanas have a small poniard at the waist. The dialogue is drowsy—the action heavy—the scenery fine—the actors tolerable. I can’t say much for their seraglio—Teresa, Phannio, or * * * * were worth them all.
“Sunday, a very handsome note from Mackintosh, who is a rare instance of the union of very
transcendent talent and great good-nature. To-day (Tuesday), a very pretty billet from
M. la Baronne de Staël Holstein. She is
pleased to be much pleased with my mention of her and her last work in my notes. I spoke
as I thought. Her works are my delight, and so is she herself, for—half an hour. I
don’t like her politics—at least, her having changed them;
had she been qualis ab incepto, it were
nothing. But she is a woman by herself, and has done
| A. D. 1813. | LIFE OF LORD BYRON. | 457 |
“ * * is, I hear, thriving on the repute of a pun (which was mine at Mackintosh’s dinner some time back), on Ward, who was asking ‘how much it would take to re-whig him?’ I answered that, probably, he ‘must first, before he was re-whigged, be re-warded.’ This foolish quibble, before the Staël and Mackintosh and a number of conversationers, has been mouthed about, and at last settled on the head of * *, where long may it remain!
“George* is returned from afloat to get a new ship. He looks thin, but better than I expected. I like George much more than most people like their heirs. He is a fine fellow, and every inch a sailor. I would do any thing, but apostatize, to get him on in his profession.
“Lewis called. It is a good and good-humoured man, but pestilently prolix and paradoxical and personal. If he would but talk half, and reduce his visits to an hour, he would add to his popularity. As an author, he is very good, and his vanity is ouverte, like Erskine’s, and yet not offending.
“Yesterday, a very pretty letter from Annabella†, which I answered. What an odd situation and friendship is ours!—without one spark of love on either side, and produced by circumstances which in general lead to coldness on one side, and aversion on the other. She is a very superior woman, and very little spoiled, which is strange in an heiress—a girl of twenty—a peeress that is to be, in her own right—an only child, and a savante, who has always had her own way. She is a poetess—a mathematician—a metaphysician, and yet, withal, very kind, generous, and gentle, with very little pretension. Any other head would be turned with half her acquisitions, and a tenth of her advantages.
|
* His cousin, the present Lord Byron. |
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† Miss Milbanke, afterwards Lady Byron. |
