In conformity with my resolution of yesterday or I might rather say, my project, I intend not to mention any of my regular duties, considering them as having been performed without there is some notice given of the exception, or as they are incidentally noticed in commenting upon any of my reading.

Filled up my morning by looking over Spence’s Anecdotes which may truly be called a lounging book,1 holding some pretty good things and many trifling ones. Then went to hear Mr. Frothingham preach from John 9. 34. “Dost thou teach us,” directed principally to the prevailing arrogance in the world of listening only to the suggestions of established reputation and slighting truth on account of it’s source. There is much to be said on that subject and I am of opinion no where to more purpose than here. The attachment to prescription here is very inveterate. In many respects it leads to good, but in some it’s operation is all evil. The Afternoon Sermon I liked the best however. It was from James 4. 7. “Resist the devil and he will flee from you.” A mere examination of what the devil is, and an eloquent refutation of the idea that man has not the power to resist, with a touch at the orthodox doctrine of predestination. The fact he thinks that for power you may read Will. Mr. Frothingham did better than usual because he was more animated, and therefore felt strongly the words he was delivering. When this happens he gets out of the sing-song which he has formed for himself as the beauty of delivery.

Returned home and read a Sermon of Massillon from Luke 11. 26. “And the last state of that man is worse than the first.” It was upon the character of the vacillating and inconstant in religion. He thinks their’s is the most hopeless case of all. Because they derive no benefit from the knowledge of the truth, from any taste for religion which it forms nor from the administration of the Sacraments. The liability to return to the paths of vice deadens all their morality and renders them entirely unfit to be depended upon in any way. Their case is therefore more desperate than that of the hardened sinner.

Evening. Read Grahame’s second volume but found I had got the substance of it pretty well in my first reading. I also found the idea I was in search of which I think will do for the foundation of an Essay. The Child was fretful today but did not appear much unwell.

I spent more than an hour reading the Newspapers. I suppose if a man wishes to appear informed in this Country he must keep up with the debates in Congress at least. But even this takes much time. Things at Washington are getting into a most confused miserable state and it is really impossible to foresee what the result may be. The prospects of the Nation so far as they depend upon Rulers are poor enough. And what road there is to reach improvement is not so clear. But I am not particularly concerned so that I shall not trouble my head with croaking.

After dinner. Continued Quinctilian. A Dissertation upon Wit similar to that which is in the second book De Oratore of Cicero. It is pretty plain from both of these that this Article will not bear keeping. Much of it is totally lost, much so dim as to be no longer amusing, and much really very bad. Perhaps a man might moralize to some purpose in a case like this. The Jest of Yorick will hardly outlast his skull.

Evening. Reading to my Wife from Hunt’s book. Recollections of several characters who have made a noise in the world, put in to aid the sale. They show the author however to more advantage as they are of an amiable cast. Indeed he is as partial to Keats and Shelley on one side as he is to Byron on the other. His Judgments are very far from being critically sound.

At the Office as usual. Read a part of Gibbon’s fifth volume and 240the detail of the miserable condition of the Countries of Europe under the Government of such Puppets as Arcadius and Honorius. I have often thought of a remark made either by Robertson or Roscoe which at the time I transferred to my Commonplace, that the period which may be considered that of the world’s utmost degradation dated from the close of the reign of Theodosius till the Revival of letters.1 Nothing material occurred.

Mr. Peabody and Mr. Quincy dined with me. The thing was rather dull. The latter gentleman has altered considerably and not for the better since his engagement. I had not time to pursue my studies today so that I took up Beaumont and Fletcher reading the four first Acts of the Maid’s Tragedy, and wondering what it was gave to them their reputation.2 Probably the loyalty which runs through it. A King is represented as bad as possible, and the persons he most injured will not touch him because he is a King. The Woman repents of her sin in the most sudden and unnatural manner merely because her brother rants a minute or two and threatens to kill her. Just so, this brother afterwards quarrels with Amintor and is reconciled again in neither case with any adequate motive. The transitions are violent and unnatural, and the Poetry is not particularly distinguished. Evening quiet, continued Hunt’s puerile recollections of himself, the epithet will apply in more than one sense.