"I must premise, however, that I have read _nothing_ of Adolph Müllner'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 Staël_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. "January 14. 1821. "Turned over Seneca's tragedies. Wrote the opening lines of the intended tragedy of Sardanapalus. Rode out some miles into the forest. Misty and rainy. Returned--dined--wrote some more of my tragedy.