not one from which I could draw the living fountain. I could only cheat the hour with them, prize, admire, and pity. It was sad; yet who would have seen sadness in me? * *
‘Once I was almost all intellect; now I am almost all feeling. Nature vindicates her rights, and I feel all Italy glowing beneath the Saxon crust. This cannot last long; I shall burn to ashes if all this smoulders here much longer. I must die if I do not burst forth in genius or heroism.
‘I meant to have translated the best passages of “Die Gunderode,” — which I prefer to Bettine’s correspondence with Goethe. The two girls are equal natures, and both in earnest. Goethe made a puppet-show, for his private entertainment, of Bettine’s life, and we wonder she did not feel he was not worthy of her homage. Gunderode is to me dear and admirable, Bettine only interesting. Gunderode is of religions grace, Bettine the fulness of instinctive impulse; Gunderode is the ideal, Bettine nature; Gunderode throws herself into the river because the world is all too narrow, Bettine lives and follows out every freakish fancy, till the enchanting child degenerates into an eccentric and undignified old woman. There is a medium somewhere. Philip Sidney found it; others had it found for them by fate.’
‘March 29, 1841. — * * Others have looked at society
with far deeper consideration than I. I have felt so
unrelated to this sphere, that it has not been hard for
me to be true. Also, I do not believe in Society. I feel
that every man must struggle with these enormous ills,
in some way, in every age; in that of Moses, or Plato,
or Angelo, as in our own. So it has not moved me
