17th January 1826

[Head still thick as treacle after yesterday!]

During the night, Mama placed a tract by the Society for the General Promotion of Juvenile Temperance by my bed. It is entitled, The Devil in the Sluicery and has a drawing of some skeletons at a gin-shop. This is all rather nonsensical, as a gin-shop would be a perfectly agreeable place to be skeleton, in my opinion; much better than some mouldy old graveyard. Mama mentioned the book at dinner and remarked very pointedly that, although it was too late to reform Papa, she believed that there was still hope for his son. Poor old Pa looked rather crestfallen. I may have to lend him the book.

I have commenced a new and better play entitled The Gadabout Duke; or The Scion of the Scullery. It is about a young man who discovers that he has been deceived by his parents, who are actually the former servants of his dead father, the Duke of Albemarlia – most probably this will be somewhere in Italy – who are secretly plotting to take his rightful inheritance. I have thought it through carefully: it will be very dramatic and feature an imposing castle (i.e. with turrets), an intelligent dog, and a man with a wooden leg.

It is a shame that we have not been to the theatre for ages. How is a keen young fellow to learn his trade? I will ask Papa to take us, now that he has a little more money.


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