Tuesday, March 22nd
Last night, party at Lansdowne House. To-night, party at Lady Charlotte Greville's — deplorable waste of time, and something of temper. Nothing imparted — nothing acquired—talking without ideas: — if any thing like thought in my mind, it was not on the subjects on which we were gabbling. Heigho! — and in this way half London pass what is called life. To-morrow there is Lady Heathcote's — shall I go? yes — to punish myself for not having a pursuit.
Let me see — what did I see? The only person who much struck me was Lady S—d's [Stafford's] eldest daughter, Lady C. L. [Charlotte Leveson]. They say she is not pretty. I don't know — every thing is pretty that pleases; but there is an air of soul about her — and her colour changes — and there is that shyness of the antelope (which I delight in) in her manner so much, that I observed her more than I did any other woman in the rooms, and only looked at any thing else when I thought she might perceive and feel embarrassed by my scrutiny. After all, there may be something of association in this. She is a friend of Augusta's, and whatever she loves I can't help liking.
Her mother, the Marchioness, talked to me a little; and I was twenty times on the point of asking her to introduce me to sa fille, but I stopped short. This comes of that affray with the Carlisles.
Earl Grey told me laughingly of a paragraph in the last Moniteur, which has stated, among other symptoms of rebellion, some particulars of the sensation occasioned in all our government gazettes by the "tear" lines, — only amplifying, in its re-statement, an epigram (by the by, no epigram except in the Greek acceptation of the word) into a roman. I wonder the Couriers, etc., etc., have not translated that part of the Moniteur, with additional comments.
The Princess of Wales has requested Fuseli to paint from The Corsair — leaving to him the choice of any passage for the subject: so Mr. Locke tells me. Tired, jaded, selfish, and supine — must go to bed.
Roman, at least Romance, means a song sometimes, as in the Spanish. I suppose this is the Moniteur's meaning, unless he has confused it with The Corsair.
George Gordon Byron (1788–1824), beter bekend als Lord Byron, was een Engels schrijver en dichter. Byrons reputatie berust niet alleen op zijn geschriften, maar ook op zijn leven vol aristocratische excessen, enorme schulden en talrijke liefdesaffaires. Lady Caroline Lamb noemde hem "gek, slecht en gevaarlijk om te kennen." Zijn brieven en dagboeken zijn integraal gepubliceerd.