December 3.—I endeavour to rouse my fortitude and calm my mind by high and philosophic thoughts, and my studies aid this endeavour. I have pondered for hours on Cicero’s description of that power of virtue in the human mind which render’s man’s frail being superior to fortune.
“Eadem ratio habet in re quiddam amplum at que magnificum ad imperandum magis quam ad parendum accommodatum; omnia humana non tolerabilia solum sed etiam levia ducens; altum quiddam et excelsum, nihil temens, nemini cedens, semper invictum.”
What should I fear? To whom cede? By whom be conquered?
Little truly have I to fear. One only misfortune can touch me. That must be the last, for I should sink under it. At the age of seven and twenty, in the busy metropolis of native England, I find myself alone. The struggle is hard that can give rise to misanthropy in one, like me, attached to my fellow-creatures. Yet now, did not the memory of those matchless lost ones redeem their race, I should learn to hate men, who are strong only to oppress, moral only to insult. Oh ye winged hours that fly fast, that, having first destroyed my happiness, now bear my swift-departing youth with you, bring patience, wisdom, and content! I will not stoop to the world, or become like those who compose it, and be actuated by mean pursuits and petty ends. I will endeavour to remain unconquered by hard and bitter fortune; yet the tears that start in my eyes show pangs she inflicts upon me.
So much for philosophising. Shall I ever be a philosopher?
CHAPTER XX
January 1825-July 1827
At the beginning of 1825 Mrs. Shelley’s worldly affairs were looking somewhat more hopeful. The following extract is from a letter to Miss Curran, dated 2d January—