But those
days are swiftly passing. Soon I must begin to exert myself, for
there is this incubus of the future, and none to help me, if I am not
prudent to face it. So ridiculous, too, this mortal coil,--such small
things!
I find how true was the lure that always drew me towards Europe. It
was no false instinct that said I might here find an atmosphere to
develop me in ways I need. Had I only come ten years earlier! Now
my life must be a failure, so much strength has been wasted on
abstractions, which only came because I grew not in the right soil.
However, it is a less failure than with most others, and not worth
thinking twice about. Heaven has room enough, and good chances in
store, and I can live a great deal in the years that remain.
TO R.W.E.
_Rome, Dec_. 20, 1847.--I don't know whether you take an interest in
the present state of things in Italy, but you would if you were
here. It is a fine time to see the people. As to the Pope, it is as
difficult here as elsewhere to put new wine into old bottles, and
there is something false as well as ludicrous in the spectacle of the
people first driving their princes to do a little justice, and then
_evviva-ing_ them at such a rate.
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