dowy abodes, for we received messages from several candidates that we had just been thinking of. Gray declined our invitation, though he had not yet been asked: Gay offered to come and bring in his hand the Duchess of Bolton, the original Polly: Steele and Addison left their cards as Captain Sentry and Sir Roger de Coverley: Swift came in and sat down without speaking a word, and quitted the room as abruptly: Otway and Chatterton were seen lingering on the opposite side of the Styx, but could not muster enough between them to pay Charon his fare: Thomson fell asleep in the boat, and was rowed back again-and Burns sent a low fellow, one John Barleycorn, an old companion of his who had conducted him to the other world, to say that he had during his lifetime been drawn out of his retirement as a show, only to be made an exciseman of, and that he would rather remain where he was. He desired, however, to shake hands by his representative--the hand, thus held out, was in a burning fever, and shook prodigiously. The room was hung round with several portraits of eminent painters. While we were debating whether we should demand speech with these masters of mute eloquence, whose features were so familiar to us, it seemed that all at once they glided from their frames, and seated themselves at some little distance from us. There was Leonardo with his majestic beard and watchful eye, having a bust of Archimedes before him; next him was Raphael's graceful head_turned round to the Fornarina; and on his other side was Lucretia Borgia, with calm, golden locks; Michael Angelo had placed the model of St. Peter's on the table before him; Corregio had an angel at his side; Titian was seated with his Mistress between himself and Giorgioni; Guido was accompanied by his own Aurora, who took a dice-box from him; Claude held a mirror in his hand; Rubens patted a beautiful panther (led in by a satyr) on the head; Vandyke appeared as his own Paris, and Rembrandt was hid under furs, gold-chains and jewels, which Sir Joshua eyed closely, holding his hand so as to shade his forehead. Not a word was spoken; and as we rose to do them homage, they still presented the same surface to the view. Not being bona-fide representations of living people, we got rid of the splendid apparitions by signs and dumb show. soon as they had melted into thin air, there was a loud noise at the outer door, and we found it was Giotto, Cimabue, and Ghirlandaio, who had been raised from the dead by their earnest desire to see their illustrious successors "Whose names on earth In Fame's eternal records live for aye!" Finding them gone, they had no ambition to be seen after them, and mournfully withdrew. "Egad!" said B, "those are the very fellows I should like to have had some talk with, to know how they could see to paint when all was dark around them?" "to cried "But shall we have nothing to say," interrogated G. J. the Legend of Good Women?"- "Name, name, Mr. JH- in a boisterous tone of friendly exultation, "name as many as you please, without reserve or fear of molestation!" Jwas perplexed between so many amiable recollections, that the name of the lady of his choice expired in a pensive whiff of his pipe; and Bimpatiently declared for the Duchess of Newcastle. Mrs. Hutchinson was no sooner mentioned, than she carried the day from the Duchess. We were the less solicitous on this subject of filling up the posthumous lists of Good Women, as there was already one in the room as good, as sensible, and in all respects as exemplary, as the best of them could be for their lives! "I should like vastly to have seen Ninon de l'Enclos," said that incomparable person; and this immediately put us in mind that we had neglected to pay honour due to our friends on the other side of the Channel: Voltaire, the patriarch of levity, and Rousseau, the father of sentiment, Montaigne and Rabelais (great in wisdom and in wit), Moliere and that illustrious group that are collected round him (in the print of that subject) to hear him read his comedy of the Tartuffe at the house of Ninon; Racine, La Fontaine, Rochefoucault, St. Evremont, &c. "There is one person," said a shrill, querulous voice, "I would rather see than all these-Don Quixote !" "Come, come!" said H- "I thought we should have no heroes, real or fabulous. What say you, Mr. B? Are you for eking out your shadowy list with such names as Alexander, Julius Cæsar, Tamerlane, or Ghengis Khan ?"- "Excuse me," said B that B 66 on the "Your most subject of characters in active life, plotters and disturbers of the world, I have a crotchet of my own, which I beg leave to reserve.' 66 No, no! come, out with your worthies!". "What do you think of Guy Faux and Judas Iscariot ?" H- turned an eye upon him like a wild Indian, but cordial and full of smothered glee. exquisite reason!" was echoed on all sides; and A- thought had now fairly entangled himself. Why, I cannot but think," retorted he of the wistful countenance, "that Guy Faux, that poor fluttering annual scare-crow of straw and rags, is an ill-used gentleman. I would give something to see him sitting pale and emaciated, surrounded by his matches and his barrels of gunpowder, and expecting the moment that was to transport him to Paradise for his heroic self-devotion; but if I say any more, there is that fellow Gwill make something of it.-And as to Judas Iscariot, my reason is different. I would fain see the face of him, who, having dipped his hand in the same dish with the Son of Man, could afterwards betray him. I have no conception of such a thing; nor have I ever seen any picture (not even Leonardo's very fine one) that gave me the least idea of it."-" You have said enough, Mr. B—, to justify your choice." "Oh! ever right, Menenius,—ever right!" "There is only one other person I can ever think of after this," continued H- ; but without mentioning a name that once put on a semblance of mortality. "If Shakspeare was to come into the room, we should all rise up to meet him; but if that person was to come into it, we should all fall down and try to kiss the hem of his garment!" As a lady present seemed now to get uneasy at the turn the conversation had taken, we rose up to go. The morning broke with that dim, dubious light by which Giotto, Cimabue, and Ghirlandaio must have seen to paint their earliest works; and we parted to meet again and renew similar topics at night, the next night, and the night after that, till that night overspread Europe which saw no dawn. The same event, in truth, broke up our little Congress that broke up the great one. But that was to meet again: our deliberations have never been resumed. MYNHEER WERTER'S FIRST INTERVIEW WITH CHARLOTTE, VERSIFIED. WERTER loquitur. HAVING promised to call, For Miss Charlotte, the Bailly of Walheim's fair daughter, I went, unawares, Down the back-kitchen stairs, And 'twas thus the sweet soul was employ'd when I caught her: For thick bread and butter Six children were squeaking around her; while she That I found in a trice She had cut a large slice from the heart of poor me! (I vow she'd no rouge on), And swore 'twas a bore in that trim to be found: I bow'd, and she curtsied quite down to the ground. Such a figure and face! Such a tongue too! she chatter'd, nineteen to the dozen, Pictures, housemaids, and books, And her uncles and aunts, and her ninety-ninth cousin! But, oh! the orchestra was simple and modest ! 'Twas all spirit and life, Though the dancers, Lord help 'em! were some of the oddest. 1 "Hands across, ma'am.”— You're out, sir"— "Mind what you 're about, sir." Charlotte whisper'd: "Just wait till we get to the bottom,- "Then, Werter, my hearty, "We'll waltz and astonish the natives, 'od rot 'em." We waltz! and behold her, Her head on my shoulder, Cheeks meeting, eyes greeting, hearts beating, and thus And whisk her and whirl her We whirl round the room till the room whirls round us! Abandon'd to all the soft charms of the waltz, sir! Oh! had you a wife, Let her waltz all her life, But be sure you waltz with her yourself-mind, that's all, sir!! How it thunder'd and lighten'd; The ladies were frighten'd, And thought it a sin to dance jigs in bad weather: Said Charlotte, "I wonder 'They're frighten'd at thunder! "But since they won't dance, we 'll play forfeits together." Next, we stole to the casement, We stared at the moon a full hour by a stop-clock ! But, at length, when she spoke, To the great work of love, though she merely said-" Klopstock !"+ THE WRITINGS OF EVELYN.† P*. EVELYN was an English gentleman of the first order. His character united spirit with sweetness: he was conscientious, accomplished, amiable; an observer on the watch for good; superior to the ordinary temptations of high life; romantic on the side of nature; a patriot, who clothed anew his country with oaks; a graceful philosopher, who did not disdain to know the elegancies of a sallad. It is this combination of interesting qualities, but above all the "precious seeing" with which he looked upon every object about him, and fetched out the beauty and goodness that is in it, (a noble property, as if Heaven had gifted a man with angelic eyes,) which has long rendered Evelyn a personal favourite with the readers of old books, and has at length produced a republication of his works. In some instances, the mention of particular works in this Magazine is to be regarded rather as availing ourselves of a warrantable opportunity of bringing the reader acquainted with the contents, than as passing a critical opinion. But in the present, partaking of the just pride of those who are concerned in bringing such an author forward, we do not hesitate to say, that no English gentleman, who has money as well as mind enough to indulge himself in intellectual luxuries, ought to be without the works of Evelyn. He, Cowley, and Clarendon, may be regarded as the representatives of the gentry and men of letters that were on the aristocratical side in the civil wars; as Sidney, Milton, Harrington, and Marvell, are those on the side of the democracy. No English gentleman should be without them all. Evelyn, like Cowley and Milton, was, unequivocally, an honest man. We are apt to regret, that such men as he, and Milton, and Marvell, and Lord Falkland, and all the other true hearts on either side of the question, were not intimate together; though on some accounts, perhaps, they were better in their respective places. Cowley was his friend, and has addressed to him one of his most characteristic and congenial productions. They fought, after their fashion, the battles of their cause; and refreshed themselves at intervals in the sweet breath of gardens; keeping alive their humanity in the wide and charitable meditations inspired by hose tranquil places. Evelyn had not the great talents of his friend. His works are remark + Should any objection be taken to the rhyme, or rather, the no-rhyme of Stopclock and Klopstock, it is requested that it may be overlooked in favour of the reason. Klopstock is the identical name pronounced by Charlotte, for which no other could, with propriety, be substituted. Had the name been Klopstick, we might have contrived to make it jingle with mopstick; but Klopstock-the thing is impossible. The Miscellaneous Writings of John Evelyn, Esq. F.R.S., Author of " Sylva, or a Discourse of Forest Trees, Memoirs," &c. now first collected, with occasional notes, by William Upcott, of the London Institution. 1 able neither for goodness of style nor masterliness of speculation. His fondness for learned phrases, and scraps of scholarship, borders on the pedantic; and he must have been startled at first sight with the character which Cowley could afford to write of Cromwell. But there is ingenuity, grace, enthusiasm; a great deal of information on subjects within his reach; great novelty of zeal in behalf of our forests and "hearts of oak ;" an activity, and relish of life, that transports us to and fro between the enjoyment of the country and the sympathy with busy men; an honesty sometimes amounting to simplicity; and a simplicity often arriving at the results, and invested with the dignity, of wisdom. The merits of his "Silva" are well known; but have never been seen to such advantage as in the late edition, illustrated with plates, and with the commentary of Dr. Hunter. His "Diary" has all the interest that might be expected from the memorandum-book of an honest and anxious observer, kept in extraordinary times; and the Miscellanies before us partake of the same interest, united with the results of his quietest and most pleasing studies. It is the intention of the present review, which will extend to two or three papers, to go through the whole contents of this volume. They amount to nineteen or twenty articles, of great diversity of subject,— party-politics, fine arts, fashions, commerce and navigation, the smoke of London, sages, impostors, a lady's dressing-room, and a discourse on sallads. The least interesting are those which stand foremost in the list, and which he produced while he was comparatively new to the world. But they engage us with their spirit and honesty; and the ocIcasion which called them forth renders them worth attention. These tracts interested Milton and Clarendon. Marvell would take them up fresh from the printer's, as we now take up a newspaper. 1. OF LIBERTY AND SERVITUDE. Translated from the French of M. de la Mothe Vayer.-This was Evelyn's first production. He picked up the original, while strolling among the bookshops in Paris; and after his return to England, published it, in the true spirit of a gentleman, a few days before the execution of the prince whom he loved. "21st (January)," says his Diary, "was published my Translation of Liberty and Servitude, for the preface of which I was severely threatened." This circumstance renders the Preface the best part of the book. It is worth reprinting here for the edification of gentlemen in ordinary. 66 TO HIM THAT READES. This free subject, coming abroad in these licentious times, may happily cause the world to mistake both the Author and the Translator, neither of whom by LIBERTY do understand that impious impostoria pila, so frequently of late exhibited and held forth to the people, whilst (in the meane time) indeed, it is thrown into the hands of a few private persons. By FREEDOME is here intended that which the philosopher teaches us: Nulli rei servire, nulli necessitati, nullis casibus, fortunam in æquum deducere, &c. not that Platonique chimæra of a state, no where existant save in UTOPIA. Verily, there is no such thing in rerum natura as we pretend unto: seeing that whilst we beare about us these spoiles of mortality, and are subject to our passions, there can be no absolute perfection acquired in this life and of this truth we have now had the experience of more than five thousand yeeres, during all which tract to this present epoch of time, never was there either heard or read of a more equal and excellent form of government than that |