Very cool for the season with a brisk North Wester. I read Schiller until late, then to the Office and House to superintend Repairs. Received a letter from my father being the last of the series he has sent me.1 In it he alludes to his own situation and defends himself for his return to public life. His reasons are certainly strong and as applied to him convincing but I can only regret the more that they should be so. His mind is of the fiery, ambitious stamp impatient of ease and preferring to it the most violent commotion. To him action is necessary.2 The more is the pity, for the close of such a man’s life is rarely dignified. We must submit with patience.

My morning was much cut up. Returned home and found the family under some uneasiness from Horatio Brooks who had suffered somewhat by being thrown out of a chaise on one of the Bridges. He came home but was lying down. He has behaved himself with such propriety that I regret the incident as well on his own account as that of his father whom such things severely mortify. Such is the fate even of the happiest. Such are the counterbalancing evils attending the great privilege of children. When I look round me and think of my own, how I look up to the Deity alone for protection for them and myself. There is not much on earth. Afternoon, Grimm and Thiers whose first Volume I finished. Evening instead of German, the Autobiography of Sir Egerton Brydges, a curious book.3

Morning cold and unpleasantly windy. I continued Schiller whose history is better than the most perfect Romance. Then to the Office where I remained quietly occupied in making up my Arrears of Diary and reading a few Articles in the North American Review. A very poor Account of the use of time. Took a long walk. Read a little of the biography of Lessing and found it exceedingly dull. I must pick up something else or my interest will not be sustained.

Afternoon, Thiers, the second volume of the French Revolution and Grimm. I also looked into the Quarterly Review. Struck with an observation of Coleridge that strengthens me in my idea of the merits of Goethe and Schiller against the opinion of the Reviewer. It appears to me that Goethe is exceedingly able to execute parts, but in drawing up a whole he loses himself in the mazes of his own making and then seeks to hide his incapacity by covering it with allusions to a high mystical meaning which neither he nor his disciples are willing clearly to develope. Schiller on the contrary is bold, energetical, vigorous. He puts forward his idea as strongly as he can make it, he deals with things palpable and within the comprehension of all, and his pictures are painted for the eye to see and not for the imagination to supply. The reader is not to do the work of the Author. Evening, I was so weary that I retired early. Horatio was quite sick all day and P.C.B. Jr. dined here.

Cloudy and windy. Our Season is certainly none of the pleasantest. I passed the morning in reading the Thirty Years War. I think when I return to my House I shall pursue the subject farther. The Incidents and characters involved partake of romance. And the peculiar brilliancy of the Swedish name is among the most remarkable topics for philosophical speculation.

I attended Divine Service all day. Mr. Frothingham preached a Sermon commemorative of Easter Sunday. Revelation I. 10,18. “I was in the Spirit on the Lord’s day, and heard behind me a great voice say-120ing I am he that liveth and was dead, and behold I am alive for evermore, Amen, and have the keys of hell and death.” The afternoon Mark 8. 5.6. or rather the Miracle of the seven loaves.

Besides my usual walk I also read a discourse of Dr. Barrow. Matthew 7. 1. “Judge not.” A very good discussion of the question how far the right of private judgment should be exercised in the relations with other men. Perhaps there is nothing to which the mind is more involuntarily led than to this habit. I must confess I have it myself. Sternness is perhaps my extreme. I will therefore yield this Sermon due consideration and endeavour to introduce the effects of it into my life and conversation.

Evening at home. Continued the Quarterly Review which is interesting. Perhaps there is nothing in it more striking than the remarkable change of tone in treating of Political questions. The Whig party is now quite reasonable in it’s demand for reform provided it will not patronize the Radicals. In truth the famous Constitution of Great Britain is now in imminent danger. The Country seems on the eve of Revolution.