youthful peer.

Whatever the sentiment which in his breast responded to all the feelings
he excited, it is certain that they possessed, at least, the power of
disturbing his tranquillity. They were like so many beautiful plants,
all showy and perfumed, yet distilling poison. The woman whose passion
he bore with, rather than shared, could not fail to compromise him; they
had exchanged parts, so to say, and he had to suffer from that jealousy,
which more frequently falls to the lot of woman. The ennui he thus
experienced was tinctured with irritation, while the emotions to which
the other lady gave rise, were softer, truer, and more ardent. If we
examine well his memoranda and confidential letters of this time, and
confront his expressions with facts, we shall always find therein the
cause and palpable explanation of those mysterious though short-lived
sadnesses then experienced. We shall find the expression of peace
sacrificed, or sadness produced, sometimes couched in language
indicative of affection or regret; then, again, in words that betray
fear or irritation. For instance, we read in a passage of his
memoranda:--

"I wish I could settle to reading again,--my life is monotonous, and yet
desultory. I take up books, and fling them down again. I began a comedy,
and burnt it, because the scene ran into reality; a novel, for the same
reason. In rhyme, I can keep more away from facts; but the thought
always runs through, through.... Yes, yes; through."

And we have in these two words the precise explanation of this feeling
of _ennui_.

He was at this time contemplating a voyage:--

"Ward talks of going to Holland, and we have partly discussed an
expedition together.... And why not?... is far away.... No one
else, except Augusta (his sister), cares for me--no ties--no
trammels--_andiamo dunque_--se torniamo bene--se no che importa?"[178]

He was evidently sad that day; but, is not the nature of his sadness
revealed in those words:--"She is far away--?"

According to his memoranda, he again fell into this vein of sadness some
months later, in February, 1814; but then, also, its causes are very
evident. An accumulation of painful things, united to overwhelm him. He
had sought to satisfy the longings of his heart by extraordinary
intellectual activity, writing the "Bride of Abydos" in four nights, and
the "Corsair" in a few days; he had also fought against them, by
endeavoring to make a six months' journey into Holla