Morning very warm, and so it continued until I thought it might be classed among the warmest days we have had this Summer. I read some of Vida. But the sudden disappearance of my Man Servant besides worrying me, has thrown all the labour upon my shoulders, and I consequently was obliged to walk first to Mrs. Frothingham’s, then to market, so that it was late before I reached my Office. I accomplished my usual Diary, which has grown so much as to make it no trifle, and wrote a large portion of the tenth of the Bible letters so that I was not altogether without producing something. Returned home and found my Wife and Child still holding on pretty well. This is my present care and if it go on favourably I shall hold it as one among my many blessings.

Returned home and in the Afternoon read the Correspondence between Plancus and Cicero. It shows good intention on his part, but the Republic was not to be saved. How could it be when Cicero advises a military man friendly to the authority of the Senate to pay no attention to it’s orders, but go on doing and let them approve afterwards. How is Cicero justified in giving this advice? If it was not right, then is he to blame. If it was right, the government was not worth the blood it cost to support it.

Evening quiet at home. Mr. W. Lee called not knowing that my 113Wife was confined. Read Vida, and the Spectator, besides finishing Paradise Regained. I believe the reason it interests so little is, that the hero is perfect and known to be so which takes from the interest of a story by disclosing the invariable result. The little action there is, is uniform, with a uniform termination. So that the occasional snatches of bright Poetry are not enough to keep the reader alive. I would say more but I dilate too much. How do my thoughts agree with the Critics?

Morning cloudy with an Easterly Wind, but it afterwards cleared away. My Wife seemed pretty well but there was a difficulty about nursing. The Child is hardly strong enough to draw milk enough for its own nourishment, or it’s mother’s relief.1 This is a matter for anxiety. I was obliged to do all the work in the absence of any assistance so that it kept me walking a large part of the morning.

At the Office, engaged in writing my Journal and also in copying the tenth Bible letter which I finished but did no more. Several interruptions this morning. Mr. Curtis, a man to pay rent, and my father. The latter came in for the purpose of satisfying his anxiety.2 He dined at my House and in the afternoon I went down with him to try the Church in which he is to deliver the Eulogy upon Mr. Monroe. It was exceedingly hot in the place which was the Old South, and in the position in the extreme corner of the upper end of the Church, it almost suffocated me. My father felt himself much exhausted in delivering only what he designed as the Exordium of the Address. He must abridge.

Returned home and had an hour’s very pleasant conversation with him upon historical subjects, and he left us to return home. My Evening was a little distracted, by conversation, by sitting with my Wife and by a visit of congratulation from Mr. Everett. I read a part however of DuBos reflections upon Poetry and Painting.3 Executed part of my Pamphlet Catalogue and read the Spectator as usual.

Morning rather cooler than it has been, with an Easterly Wind and 114cloudy but without rain. I passed an hour reading Vida’s Art of Poetry of which I can say, that it contains much valuable matter for a poet. But though it may make a good one, he will not be great. A great Poet must be an original. It will not do for every man of genius to be tied down to the track of Virgil and Homer. Had Virgil struck out a new path, with the same general melody of versification, would he not have held higher rank as a Poet. I do not mean to depreciate what he did, but I mean to apply to the genius the rule that all Critics apply to the species, there must be variety. What would have been Milton’s merit had he imitated Virgil as closely as this person did Homer? I do not think any great genius ought to imitate unless he is willing to admit his predecessor’s superiority.

Went to the Office. My Wife not quite so well today as the child will not take. I yet feel great anxiety about both. Occupied in writing my Journal and in copying a part of the eleventh and last Bible letter. Mr. Brooks called to let me know of some grapes which I was obliged to go myself to get. So I returned home and having been sent for to see Miss Oliver continued my walk to Hancock Street. She wants to keep the House, for two years more. Talked about repairs.

After dinner I read the Eleventh Book of Cicero’s Letters. The Correspondence of Decimus Brutus. The Letters of Brutus and Cassius to Antony are very dignified, and worthy of the men. The letter of Cicero to Matius and his reply are very good. Perhaps the reasoning in it is not entirely without basis. The question of the propriety of Caesar’s murder is a hard one to settle. But as a general rule one may be pretty sure that when a person is successful enough to become a tyrant, he is assisted to it full as much by the corruption of the People as by his own ability. It certainly was so here. Read Bacon’s Essay upon Truth which is good. Evening with my Wife, afterwards, Du Bos and the Spectator.