"Read the Poets--English, that is to say--out of Campbell's edition.
There is a good deal of taffeta in some of Tom's prefatory phrases, but
his work is good as a whole. I like him best, though, in his own poetry.

"Murray writes that they want to act the Tragedy of Marino Faliero--more
fools they, it was written for the closet. I have protested against this
piece of usurpation, (which, it seems, is legal for managers over any
printed work, against the author's will,) and I hope they will not
attempt it. Why don't they bring out some of the numberless aspirants
for theatrical celebrity, now encumbering their shelves, instead of
lugging me out of the library? I have written a fierce protest against
any such attempt, but I still would hope that it will not be necessary,
and that they will see, at once, that it is not intended for the stage.
It is too regular--the time, twenty-four hours--the change of place not
frequent--nothing _melo_dramatic--no surprises, no starts, nor
trap-doors, nor opportunities 'for tossing their heads and kicking their
heels'--and no _love_--the grand ingredient of a modern play.

"I have found out the seal cut on Murray's letter. It is meant for
Walter Scott--or _Sir_ Walter--he is the first poet knighted since Sir
Richard Blackmore. But it does not do him justice.
Scott's--particularly when he recites--is a very intelligent
countenance, and this seal says nothing.

"Scott is certainly the most wonderful writer of the day. His novels are
a new literature in themselves, and his poetry as good as any--if not
better (only on an erroneous system)--and only ceased to be so popular,
because the vulgar learned were tired of hearing 'Aristides called the
Just,' and Scott the Best, and ostracised him.

"I like him, too, for his manliness of character, for the extreme
pleasantness of his conversation, and his good-nature towards myself,
personally. May he prosper!--for he deserves it. I know no reading to
which I fall with such alacrity as a work of W. Scott's. I shall give
the seal, with his bust on it, to Madame la Contesse G. this evening,
who will be curious to have the effigies of a man so celebrated.

"How strange are our thoughts, &c. &c. &c.[19]

[Footnote 19: Here follows a long passage, already extracted, relative
to his early friend, Edward Noel Long.]

"Midnight.

"Read the Italian translation by Guido Sorelli of the German
Grillparzer--a devil of a name, to be sure, for posterity; b