"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; 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.