Again severely cold. The winter will not break quite yet. I finished Mr. Beckford’s book which is pleasant trifling. Continued Goethe in Hayward’s German English. Attended divine service all day. Heard Mr. Frothingham. Luke 13. 12 “And when Jesus saw her, he called her to him and said unto her, Woman, thou art loosed from thine infirmity.” Afternoon Genesis 3. 19 “In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread till thou return unto the ground; for out of it wast thou taken.”

This was one of the days in which it is so absolutely impossible for me to fix my attention. I was busy in worlds of imagination, thinking of what I might and what I ought to do. Political affairs seem more and more to close before me and I turn to literature. What could I undertake. D’Israeli says what I have myself thought of many times that there is no life of Lord Bacon. What a field. Could I do anything in it? I fear my ability. But as any thing is better than idleness I will turn it over in my mind, and look up the sources of my information.

Read a Sermon of Dr. Barrow 1. Timothy 2. 12 “I exhort therefore that first of all, supplications, prayers, intercessions and giving of thanks be made for all men; for kings and for all that are in authority.” This is a very curious production for the exceeding zealous political doctrine which it inculcates. It was upon the subject of the happy return of Charles the 2d. It teaches the necessity of praying for the King, and the crime of resistance to his authority derived from God and not from the people. Dr. Barrow has been a great favorite with the zealous Churchmen ever since. But his doctrine of resistance failed in his Church the moment forbearance might have been a virtue. To be the National Church and supported by the Sovereign is no doubt 72very agreeable and may call for vehement exhortations to submission, but to be in danger from a Catholic king is only the story of the Justice and his Ox. It entirely alters the case. Such are the infallible principles of man. Evening, young Mr. Wadsworth came in for an hour taking leave, returning home. Read d’Israeli and Faust.

The days are growing more mild but the nights remain as severe as ever. I have however suffered from cold much less than usual this year. I went to the Office and studied a little and examined accounts &ca. This is a never ending business. Walk calling at various places on matters of business. Then Ovid. Afternoon resumed the examination of old papers but rather idly.

Finished d’Israeli with whose books I have been very much pleased. They are superficial, partial and narrow minded in political matters and yet they contain a vast deal of pleasant information gathered from obscure sources such as do not often get drawn together. They infuse a spirit of literary undertaking such as I have not often before felt and disclose a world of matter which it is my delight to revel in. The aspiration of the soul for higher things than the mere miserable incidents of every day is perhaps the most charming as it is the most depressing of all feelings. Perhaps the Germans of all nations cultivate entertain it most and it is for this reason that I enjoy the study of their literature. In our every day world where matter of fact is more looked after than in any other portion of the globe what are such feelings worth more than the intoxication of coarser materials?

I read tonight a review in the Foreign Quarterly of Goethe’s last volume of Autobiography.1 A singular character, of undoubted talent and yet some characteristics of which cannot fail to make the gravest smile. Idled an hour over the cittish2 couleur de rose notions of Germany given by Mrs. Trollope. I know no earthly reason for reading the second volume excepting that I have been through the first.3 Rather depressed today.

Cold still. I finished Mrs. Trollope’s book and hastened to return it at once to the Athenaeum without wasting any more time upon it. 73Then to the Office where I transacted business with Mr. Stephen Brown. According to my intention I have sold T. B. Adams’ shares in the Boylston Market at a very handsome advance upon what I paid for them. The next question is a difficult one, to reinvest. My time taken up in reading the opinions of the Judges in the Thellusen cause. Walk. Air fine.

Received a letter from my Mother reproaching me for my low spirits and in a more alarmed tone than I had anticipated. I must write to her no more such letters as that which caused this.1 I meant only to indulge in a little of the luxury of complaint. Ovid.

Mr. P. R. Dalton, Stephen Gorham, P. C. Brooks Jr. and Edward Brooks dined here, and remained quite late. I did nothing. Read in the Foreign Quarterly Review an Article upon German Architecture which interested me much.2 Mr. R. D. Tucker came in and passed the evening. Day therefore wasted.

The Senate of Massachusetts again elected my father to the Senate on their part and by an increased vote—He having probably at this time the whole Suffolk and Hampshire vote besides his own.3 It is complimentary to him but the result is extremely doubtful. Feelings are now becoming involved. I know nothing of it but rely upon a higher power for the best result.