The day tolerably pleasant, though the Wind began to show symptoms of change. I this morning made a finish of the Oration in defence of Ctesiphon. This review has not been without its utility. It has shown me more strongly the power of the Orator, and has developed beauties of thought which before escaped me. The defence is in itself peculiar in its generality. He declines embarrassing himself with the technical details of the accusation of Aeschines, and yet impresses you with the idea of its weakness much more fully than if he did so. I think this is the principal alteration I trace in my mind upon this review. The charges of Aeschines seem to have less weight in them, they do not bear examination. It is a very unanswerable position assumed by Demosthenes. “You knew of all you now charge me with, many years ago. You have suffered these laws to be violated time after time without remonstrance, (which you now affect to consider so binding). Why did not you speak before? Moreover why did not you accuse me at once, instead of transferring your attack to another? Or why have you not attacked others for doing the same things heretofore, which you now bring against Ctesiphon?” Inasmuch as Aeschines depends in that part of his Attack upon the justice of his position, and goes into a panegyric upon law, this exposition of his motives in this instance seems to undo all the foundation of his best arguments. And on this account it is, I think that the defence must be taken to be 48complete, though the late critics in England incline to the other side. It is plain Aeschines himself does not rely upon his two first points as he passes over them soon, and urges more strongly the last which engrosses much the larger share of the Oration. Yet the critics think it is only on the former that he makes out his case. Taking into consideration the result, it seems on the whole probable that at Athens the matter was very well understood, and that the first portion of the Speech must be considered rather specious than actually strong. But stop.

Office all the morning, finishing Cimon with much joy, for I had become tired of a thing that paid me nothing.1 It is not my destiny to make my fortune by writing for Newspapers. So that the more time I spend in doing it, the more I must charge as uselessly employed. Went to vote,2 paid Miss Adams a visit, and passed her Settlements, then went down and scolded the Tenant.

Afternoon passed in reading over the Oration for Caelius after finishing it first. I do not like such abuse. It is too bad even for a dog. Evening, Boswell, after which Boileau’s Art poetique3—and Two Spectators.

Foggy with a cold Easterly wind this morning. I went to Meeting at Mr. Frothingham’s and heard Mr. Lunt of New York all day. I knew him at College.1 His writing is good though it did not interest me. This is a difficulty I am totally unable to get over. Not one preacher seems to be able to fix attention. Is it in my dullness or theirs? Perhaps a little of both. A Clergyman has a hard task. It is cruel to judge him who appears weekly before us—And when Christianity has 49been inculcated till all its leading doctrines have become too common to be fit for use in the Pulpit. A man who should tell us that Charity, Piety, Faith, Benevolence, Meekness, and the rest of the virtues are good things to practise, would probably be laughed at for his pains. Yet these are the great topics of our Religion, and the cultivation of them the great purposes of preaching. The difficulty is not to be common place.

I read today, Racine’s Esther and Athalie2 with the Commentaries and Laharpe’s Opinion. I think they justify their character. French Tragedy has not been my favourite in general, but these are master pieces in a style not known in any other author of that line. They are upon the Greek model and in management much superior. After all, the amount of genius requisite to overcome the infinite difficulties placed in its way by the French taste, must be very great. The production of passages is comparatively easy. A man may write one character in a play well and yet the Play itself be miserable. The combination is the difficulty. Edmund Quincy passed an hour. After him, Two Spectators.