A break—a break—a break! So much the better; for the two last days have been nothing but annoyance, hard work, and heartach.
* * * * *
* * * * *
Friday, November 2d.
A bright sunny day; too hot for a fire; windows open, shutters closed, and the room full of flowers. How the sweet summer-time stays lingering here. Found Colonel —— in the drawing-room. After breakfast, began writing to ——. Mr. —— called: he stayed but a short time, and went out with Colonel ——. My father went out soon after, and I began to practise. Mrs. —— came in and sat with me: she played to me, and sang "Should those fond hopes ever leave thee." Her voice was as thin as her pale transparent hands. She appeared to me much better than when last I saw her; but presently told me she had just been swallowing eighty drops of laudanum, poor thing! When she was gone, went on practising, and writing, till my father came home. Walked with him and D—— to call on old Lady ——. The day was so hot that I could scarcely endure my boa. The election was going on; the streets full of rabblement, the air full of huzzaing, and the sky obscured with star-spangled banners, and villanous transparencies of "Old Hickory,"[51] hung out in all directions. We went round the Town-House, and looked at the window out of which Jefferson read the Act of Independence, that proclaimed the separation between England and America.[52] Called at a music-shop, tossed over heaps of music, bought some, and ordered some to be sent home for me to look over. Came home, put out things for the theatre. Dined at three.
* * * * *
* * * * *
Received another beautiful nosegay. After dinner, went on with letter to ——; tried over my music; Heber's song that I wanted is not among them. At six, went to the theatre. The sunset was glorious, the uprising of the moon most beautiful. There is an intensity, an earnestness, about the colour of the sky, and the light of its bright inhabitants here, that is lovely and solemn, beyond any thing I ever saw. Can Italy have brighter heavens than these? surely nothing can exceed the beauty of these days and nights. We were obliged to go all manner of roundabouts to the play-house, in order to avoid the rabble that choked up the principal streets. I, by way of striking salutary awe into the hearts of all rioters who might come across our path, brandished my father's sword out of the coach window the whole way along. The play was Venice Preserved; my father played Jaffier.
* * * * *
* * * * *