thought so before, will
they not far more now? Yet I wish to be seen as I am, and
would lose all rather than soften away anything. Let my
friends be patient and gentle, and teach me to be so. I never
promised any one patience or gentleness, for those beautiful
traits are not natural to me; but I would learn them. Can I
not?'

* * * * *

'Of all the books, and men, and women, that have touched me
these weeks past, what has most entered my soul is the music
I have heard,--the masterly expression from that violin; the
triumph of the orchestra, after the exploits on the piano;
Braham, in his best efforts, when he kept true to the dignity
of art; the Messiah, which has been given on two successive
Sundays, and the last time in a way that deeply expressed its
divine life; but above all, Beethoven's seventh symphony. What
majesty! what depth! what tearful sweetness! what victory!
This was truly a fire upon an altar. There are a succession
of soaring passages, near the end of the third movement, which
touch me most deeply. Though soaring, they hold on with a
stress which almost breaks the chains of matter to the hearer.
O, how refreshing, after polemics and philosophy, to soar thus
on strong wings! Yes, Father, I will wander in dark ways with
the crowd, since thou seest best for me to be tied down.
But only in thy free ether do I know myself. When I read
Beethoven's life, I said, "I will never repine." When I heard
this symphony, I said, "I will triumph."

* * * * *

'To-day I have finished the life of Raphael, by Quatremere de
Quincy, which has so long engaged me. It scarce goes deeper
than a _catalogue raisonnee_, but is very complete in its way.
I could make all that splendid era alive to me, and inhale the
full flower of the Sanzio. Easily one soars to worship these
angels of Genius. To venerate the Saints you must well nigh be
one.

'I went out upon the lonely rock which commands so delicious
a panoramic view. A very mild breeze had sprung up after the
extreme heat. A sunset of the melting kind was succeeded by a
perfectly clear moon-rise. Here I sat, and thought of Raphael.
I was drawn high up in the heaven of beauty, and the mists
were dried from the white plumes of contemplation.'#/

'Only by em