The Weather has for a day or two become severely cold again. I finished Schiller’s Wallenstein this morning. A beautiful poem breathing throughout strains of exalted poetry. The character of Thecla, of Max Picollomini, of his father and of Wallenstein are admirably touched. But I should rank the last least for the reasons already given. He is too blind for a great man. He is always intending and never succeeds. His friends see more clearly than he does every evil that befalls him. Neither do I quite admire Buttler. It is not easy to trace the precise motives which would drive him so far. A cold blooded murder cannot be reconciled to the high feelings occasionally ascribed to him. The denouement wants poetical justice, I might even say, effect. Piccolomini is made Commander in Chief but the fall of his son and only heir might have been shown to be more of a punishment, this being the only one which the historical facts allowed the Author.

Attended divine service and heard Mr. Frothingham preach from Isaiah 53. 12. “Therefore will I divide him a portion with the great and he shall divide the spoil with the strong; because he hath poured out his soul unto death; and he was numbered with transgressors; and he bare the sin of many and made intercession for the transgressors.” 2. Peter 1. 5.6.7. “And beside this giving all diligence add to your faith virtue; and to virtue knowledge; and to knowledge temperance; and to temperance patience; and to patience godliness and to godliness 87brotherly kindness, and to brotherly kindness charity.” I ought to have listened to both these discourses for they were worth hearing but my mind was running much too fast upon other matters for me to be able to check it. The political juggle that has taken place here, it’s probable result and the shameless sacrifice of all honorable or just feeling to private interest with its apparent success have given me cause for a great deal of late meditation. It is neither agreeable nor profitable and my best plan is to turn as soon as may be to something else.

Read a Sermon of Barrow which I thought good. James 3. 2. “If any man offend not in word he is a perfect man.” The use of language is perhaps one of the earliest lessons to be learnt. For upon an improper adaptation of epithets may arise half the misfortunes and quarrels of men. Dr. Barrow here confines himself to violations of religion, either by blasphemy and insulting language or by careless swearing. This does not embrace the most practical view of the subject. Evening, the life of Henry 7th and one or two visitors to Mr. Brooks.

The political news from France is again varied by the late arrival and as I foresaw not for the better. Our exaltation is cooling down and we foresee that matters are not quite so easily settled as we imagined. So goes the world. For my part all I wonder at is that the Nation feels so little national. That the United States does not understand it’s dignity. We are here however among Merchants who value dignity and honor by their dollars at hazard.

Office. I was rather idle. Walk, and Began the Consolatio ad Liviam. I very much relished the first hundred lines. It is uncertain whether Ovid was the Author of this nor can I yet form an opinion for myself upon the internal evidence. Afternoon Grimm. I have a curiosity from an Article in the Foreign Quarterly Review to make myself acquainted with the theory of the Earth by Cuvier but I could not find it at the Athenaeum. Took instead his Regne Animal to give me some idea of his manner.1

Evening Mr. and Mrs. Frothingham. Much talk about the College. The appointment of Mr. Wheaton as Alford Professor. Another importation. This is a little too bad.2 I must try to publish my little Essay.3 I read a little German.