“Midnight.

“Read the Italian translation by Guido Sorelli of the German Grillparzer—­a devil of a name, to be sure, for posterity; but they must learn to pronounce it.  With all the allowance for a translation, and above all, an Italian translation (they are the very worst of translators, except from the Classics—­Annibale Caro, for instance—­and there, the bastardy of their language helps them, as, by way of looking legitimate, they ape their father’s tongue);—­but with every allowance for such a disadvantage, the tragedy of Sappho is superb and sublime!  There is no denying it.  The man has done a great thing in writing that play.  And who is he? I know him not; but ages will.  ’Tis a high intellect.

“I must premise, however, that I have read nothing of Adolph Muellner’s (the author of ’Guilt’), and much less of Goethe, and Schiller, and Wieland, than I could wish.  I only know them through the medium of English, French, and Italian translations.  Of the real language I know absolutely nothing,—­except oaths learnt from postilions and officers in a squabble.  I can swear in German potently, when I like—­’Sacrament—­Verfluchter—­Hundsfott’—­and so forth; but I have little of their less energetic conversation.

“I like, however, their women, (I was once so desperately in love with a German woman, Constance,) and all that I have read, translated, of their writings, and all that I have seen on the Rhine of their country and people—­all, except the Austrians, whom I abhor, loathe, and—­I cannot find words for my hate of them, and should be sorry to find deeds correspondent to my hate; for I abhor cruelty more than I abhor the Austrians—­except on an impulse, and then I am savage—­but not deliberately so.

“Grillparzer is grand—­antique—­not so simple as the ancients, but very simple for a modern—­too Madame de Stael_ish_, now and then—­but altogether a great and goodly writer.

“January 13. 1821, Saturday.

“Sketched the outline and Drams.  Pers. of an intended tragedy of Sardanapalus, which I have for some time meditated.  Took the names from Diodorus Siculus, (I know the history of Sardanapalus, and have known it since I was twelve years old,) and read over a passage in the ninth vol. octavo, of Mitford’s Greece, where he rather vindicates the memory of this last of the Assyrians.

“Dined—­news come—­the Powers mean to war with the peoples.  The intelligence seems positive—­let it be so—­they will be beaten in the end.  The king-times are fast finishing.  There will be blood shed like water, and tears like mist; but the peoples will conquer in the end.  I shall not live to see it, but I foresee it.

“I carried Teresa the Italian translation of Grillparzer’s Sappho, which she promises to read.  She quarrelled with me, because I said that love was not the loftiest theme for true tragedy; and, having the advantage of her native language, and natural female eloquence, she overcame my fewer arguments.  I believe she was right.  I must put more love into ‘Sardanapalus’ than I intended.  I speak, of course, if the times will allow me leisure.  That if will hardly be a peace-maker.