hundred pounds of me, and found yourself unable to repay me by unlooked for failures, I would not there fore deprive you of freedom, to glut my baffled avarice; but if I found out you had picked my pocket of the money, I would trounce you, Sir, with a well-merited dungeon." I ventured to admire Lord Byron's pictures of the sunny shores of Greece. Johnson, "Lord Byron is a classical writer. I like his words on Athens and its suburbs well."-Boswell, "How do you like his descriptions of rural scenes in general?"-Johnson," I think them good; but you know that I hate the country. He has lavished pretty language on a dull subject. Trees are very insipid things-only fit for pipe boring. I wish, Sir, he had immortalized Fleet Street in his Spenserian verses. Why did he not lay the scene of his Corsair in the Strand, and make him a river pirate? We should then have seen poetical justice done to him at the Thames Police Office."-Boswell," Surely, Sir, that would have injured the splendour and interest of the poem." Johnson, "Not it, Sir; the Thames is as good as the Hellespont, only it is too near home." Burke remarked, "that many English scenes were romantic and beautiful, and that it was wonderful that they were not more resorted to by the poets."-Johnson, "Sir, a genius might extract beauty from the Fleet prison, if he chose to set about it."-Boswell, "That he might, Sir, for loveliness is not exempt from confinement." I could not refrain from this harmless jest, because I felt that it was a very fair one, and because I longed to brighten the conversation as much as lay in my power. No man, I hold, can be blameable in uttering a good witticism. At any rate, I was guilty of no rudeness, for my jest escaped the observation of the party in whose presence it sparkled. I now asked Dr Johnson if he admired Montgomery? Johnson, "Yes, Sir, he is an unaffectedly pious and pathetic writer; and I love to read his works." Sir Joshua thought there was a fine air of humanity spread over his poetry. Johnson, Montgomery is a feeling man; and his poetry comes simply from his heart. The World before the Flood is a grand poem. The power of music over the wandering Cain is well described. Sir, Montgomery is very dear to me." Burke observed, "That of all modern poets, Wordsworth was said by some to be the greatest."-Johnson, "Wordsworth, Sir, is a glorious but solemn poet. I should like to write his life whenever it was to be written. I would read Milton well, before I sat down to the task; but I think his life more correct than Milton's. (Here Burke smiled.) I never read Wordsworth but I think of Milton." As i was desirous of putting in a word in this interesting conversation, I declar ed my opinion, that many of this poet's performances were childish and insipid. Johnson, "So they are, Sir, but then he redeems himself manfully in many solemn lines. Peter Bell is a simple business; but then it has had its castigation. Benjamin the Wag." Here the MS. became so illegible, that in my attempts to wrench a meaning from it, I awoke. FROM a late perusal of the Tatler and Spectator, which are now, I am afraid, become rather unfashionable reading in this age of novelty, I was struck with the resemblance which several of the most beautiful allegories in them bear to some fine Greek models in that style of writing. The choice of Hercules, every body is acquainted with. It is one of the most striking allegories ever conceived, and comes near to the spirit of some of the sacred parables: that of Nathan, for example. There are many other beautiful Grecian allegories not so well known, because they have been far surpassed by our English essayists, who, though they imitated, greatly excelled their masters. It is now become customary to traduce the genius of our great poets, when any casual imitation or any borrowed scrap can be traced by critics; and it seems to give certain minds a similar gratification with contemporary scandal and abuse, when they see genius stripped of its mysterious glory, and reduced to a humble dependence on ordinary human resources. Thus we have seen Milton's immortal poem traced to Du Bartas, and the Divina Comedia to authors so obscure, that the critics can safely make them say whatever they please without danger of detection. The plagiarisms, as they have been maliciously called, of Shakespeare, are with some a never failing topic; but all the critics in the world will never convince us that Othello is the worse although its story is almost literally borrowed from an Italian novel, or Macbeth, for having been copied, both in plot and expression, from Hollinshed's Chronicle. We assert the same of Addison. His Vision of Mirza is one of the finest productions of genius which was ever written; and has received the stamp of public approbation so unanimously, and it goes so deeply into the fancy, even of school-boys, that no criticism, however learned or however witty, could dissolve the charm. Our memory looks back with delight to Mirza walking alone on the mountain-the Genius and his celestial music-the vision of the sea-the arched bridge and the happy islands; and what is no less wonderful, we are charmed with the concluding picture of the valley of Bagdat, even after the lofty fancies of the vision; so simple and so true to nature is it drawn. In tracing a resemblance between this masterpiece of poetry and Plato's Apologue of Erus, we do not, there fore, so much detract from Addison, as raise him to a level with the immortal Grecian. He has fully caught all his spirit, and all his fancy, and he has added to the charm by giving his narrative all the graceful sweetness and simplicity of Xenophon. The style of Xenophon, indeed, seems to have been his model, and he could not have chosen a happier; but he had too much poetry in his disposition to keep himself undeviatingly in the plain path of his unrivalled master. In his mode of thinking he certainly resembled Plato; in his mode of writing he as certainly resembled Xenophon. The result has been a fine combination of the best qualities of both. To some of your readers the coincidence I have remarked in the Eng Dunlop'e Hist. of Fiction. lish and Grecian allegories may not be so apparent. I can only answer for my own feelings: it struck me forcibly. But you will be better able to judge from the following abstract, which is taken from the conclusion of Plato's celebrated treatise called the Republic-a long fanciful dialogue, which in our times would very justly be called Utopian. Plato's Apologue of Erus. - Erus, the son of Armenius the Pamphylian, died in battle, but, being carried home, revived on the twelfth day, and told what he had seen in the other world during his temporary death. There were, he said, two gulfs in the earth, and opposite to these two others in the heavens, between which sat the judges of a crowd of spirits, who were coming successively before them. The just went by the right hand upward to heaven, the unjust to the left downward, each having the accounts of what they had done along with them. From the second openings above and below were passing spirits, who seemed to have come from a long journey, and who met in a meadow, and mutually asked concerning the upper and the nether regions. Their journey, they said, was of a thousand years, and during that period the wicked received tenfold punishments for whatever evil they had committed. Tyrants and others who had been atrociously wicked were not permitted to come up through the opening at all, for, whenever they approached, its mouth narrowed and closed with loud bellowing, and men of fire appeared, and bound them with chains, and dragged them over thorns, tearing off their skin, and leading them to Tartarus. The spirits, after being seven days in the meadow, ascended, and perceived a pillar of light like unto a rainbow, stretched over the whole earth and heaven. This is the belt of the sky, from the extremities of which hangs the distaff of Fate, having a spindle and point of adamant, and a various wheel with eight circles or spheres. On each of these sits a Syrén, uttering a monotone, but altogether the eight monotones compose one harmony. The daugh ters of Fate-Lachesis, Clotho, and Atropos-sit at a little distance on thrones, crowned, and robed in white, singing in harmony with the Syrens. At intervals they severally, with their mother, turn the different circles. The spirits being arrived at this place, went to Lachesis, where a prophet arranged them, and, taking the lots and the models of life from the knees of Lachesis, placed them before the spirits, and, making a speech, told them to choose what demon or genius they wished to be guided by. He then threw the lots, and each took the number which fell to him, and followed in order to make choice of his models, and, whatever model he chose, the corresponding demon or genius accompanied. (Plato de Repub. Lib. X.) It will be perceived that Plato has gone farther than Addison, and disclosed the secrets which, to Mirza, were beyond the rock of adamant, and enveloped in mist. This has added much to the effect, but has rather taken from the beauty and the repose of the Greek allegory; it is more, indeed, like the terrible pictures of Dante's Inferno than the calmness of Addison, and might, perhaps, have given rise to some of the fancies of the great Italian. May not the pillar stretching over the whole earth and heaven be the original of Mirza's bridge? I contend not for the entire resemblance of the two pieces. They are in many points, as you perceive, very distinct. But there is, withal, something of a coincidence which, I think, must strike you. The subject-the ground-work of the whole-is in both completely the same, and a grander could not be conceived than the Immortality of Man. There is still a much closer resemblance, which has not, I believe, been hitherto remarked, between the Vision of Mirza and the Picture of Cebes on the same subject, of which I shall, perhaps, give you some account the first spare moment I can command., THE FAREWELL. -A wreath'd; And when the sun assum'd his power,- And while those dreams so soft, so fair, Remembrance of each vanished scene!-Farewell!-through every chance and change, Where'er our severed footsteps range, FAREWELL then, dearest! let these tears, (Ia memory's distance, rising dim,) This last and long embrace, The fond, the faithful the forsaken! JOURNAL OF A VISIT TO HOLLAND. LETTER V. THIS day was occupied Saturday, in taking a more parti2d August. cular view of Rotterdain, and in delivering various letters of introduction, with which the party had been provided, both to English and Dutch families. These letters procured us friends, whom we afterwards left with regret, and whose kind hospitality and attention will always be remembered with pleasure. In these peregrinations we were again delighted with the number and variety of the shipping of this port, which were seen of all sizes; and we learned that not a few of them were constantly inhabited by the skippers and their families, a custom now pretty prevalent among the owners of track-boats on the canals of England. Others were used as extensive stores for grain and other merchandise, a plan highly convenient for moving from place to place in such a country as Holland, which is everywhere furnished with the means of inland navigation. Other vessels or hulks were furnished as shops, in particular with extensive collections of earthenware. Among the inhabited boats, those which go up the Rhine, some of which carry 600 tons, have neat and even elegantly fitted rooms upon deck. The Dutch are also extremely fond of water-parties, and have many pleasure-boats upon the Meuse, which are handsomely fitted up, and display no little ornament and gilding. It was remarkable, that, among the shipping of all nations, not above one or two French ships were to be seen in the whole port of Rotterdam; for such had been the intolerable tyranny of Bonaparte and the French while they remained masters of Holland, that the Dutch have now the least possible intercourse with them. Having met with a late chief magistrate of a very considerable port of Great Britain, now extensively in business as a merchant of Rotterdam, whose obliging manners endear him to all who have the pleasure of his acquaintance, he had the goodness to accompany us to the Exchange, and to the Museum, belonging to the Philosophical Society of Batavia, of which the Prince of O VOL. V. range, or King of the Netherlands, is perpetual president. Here a consider able collection of models connected with the arts and sciences are shown, all of which are constructed with much neatness and precision, particularly those for exhibiting the structure of the wind and water-mills employed for draining the lands. But I was sorry to observe, from this exhibition of philosophical apparatus, that the arts and sciences in Holland have made little or no advancement for the last 20 or 30 years. The collection of minerals is very trifling; but there is a magnet, about eight inches square, capable of carrying about 120 pounds weight, which actually drew a key out of my hand when held within an inch and a half of it. This magnet, powerful as it is, however, comes far short of some now in Britain. Sunday, In Holland, you know, 3d August. great freedom of conscience is allowed in matters of religion, for even the dissenting clergy have a stipend from the state. This being Sunday, though ignorant of the language, it became an object of inte<< rest to see the forms. The principal church of Rotterdam is that of St Lawrence; but I can only give you some very general account of the externals of the worship. You understand the Dutch Church to be Protestant, and the forms, of course, differ little from those of the Scots Presbyterians; they, indeed, closely resemble what I have seen in some of the remote parts of the north of Scotland. While the congregation is assembling, which it seems to do rather in a strag gling and irregular manner, the clerk or precentor mounts the desk, and occupies the attention of those assem bled by reading the Scriptures in an audible voice. The men come strutting through the venerable aisles, covered with their hats, which they continue to wear in their seats, excepting during prayers and some other parts of the service. The women of all ranks are furnished with a fan, which occupies one of their hands, and with it they generally screen their faces, and thus sit under much seeming constraint during the whole time of the service. They cannot, however, resist the temptation of squinting occasionally to a side at a strange face from behind the fan, which is done with a very bad grace. Rr After the congregation has listened and decorated with much ornament. for a considerable time to the prelec- It is said that the people of this tions of the clerk, a small bell is rung, city, vying with those of Haarlem, on which the parson is seen approach- have built a larger instrument than ing with a slow and somewhat solemn the one so much celebrated of that pace towards the pulpit. On reaching place, but as the organ of St Lawthe stair leading to it, he leans upon rence is not yet finished, this question the rail in a stooping posture, and still remains to be determined. The seems occupied for a time in prayer; organ of Rotterdam is between fifty he then slowly mounts the steps, and and sixty feet in height, and is, therereads a psalm, on which the people fore, the largest instrument in Holrise from their seats, as was formerly land. But the most remarkable piece the practice, and is still the case in of furniture in the church of St Lawsome parts of Scotland. The clergy rence of Rotterdam, is the screen or have bands, but instead of the long ballustrade, made of massive brass, black gown they wear a kind of black set upon a parapet of red and white scarf, which hangs behind almost to variegated marble, for separating the the ground. I shall not detain you nave from the choir of the church. longer on this subject, but may ob- This, with its cornice of elegant traserve, that, from the general appear- cery, may truly be termed a superb ance of the minister and the people, I piece of work. The brass screen is could not help thinking that they were exquisitely carved and highly pomore like a Scots congregation of the lished. The whole is about forty beginning of the eighteenth than one feet in extent, and twenty feet in of the nineteenth century. height, of which the marble parapet forms about four feet. Excepting the screen wall, the organ, and the pulpit, this church may be said to have little that is interesting in the interior. We were not a little surprised, indeed, to find the careless and slovenly manner in which this building is kept, and you will rather be astonished to learn, that the Dutch have as little taste for cleanliness in their places of worship, as they are pertinaciously troublesome in scrubbing at home; the seats, floors, and walls of the churches, being generally thickly coated with dust. The Dutch, with their usual caution, set about their work of reformation in a more quiet manner than the reformers of the Church of Scotland, who absurdly enough proceeded to level to the ground many of those venerable structures which formerly ornamented that country, the scanty remains of which are now at once the objects of regret and admiration. Instead of such conduct, the prudent Dutch (as was well observed by one of our travelling party) reformed their religious tenets without the removal even of the small bell which formerly called the Popish priest from his stall, and is now used for warning their Protestant clergy from the vestry. All the ancient churches of Holland, like those of other countries, are built much upon one and the same plan, with a nave and transept in the form of a cross, with a steeple, which is generally carried to a great height. The building materials here are universally brick. The interior fitting, as in the days of Popery, is often without any pews or fixed seating. The pulpit is of oak timber, very richly carved, and the walls and side aisles are generally decorated with numerous monumental designs. There is also an organ of great power in all the principal churches. The church of St Lawrence of Rotterdam, in particular, is provided with a very large and powerful instrument, built with great taste, During the first part of the service, the beadles are busily employed in carrying earthen pots with ignited peat ashes set in little square oaken boxes perforated in the top with numerous holes. These foot boxes are handed about in a very uncouth and indecorous manner to the ladies, who sit each with one of these boxes under their feet; and it seemed not a little ridiculous to see the poor sextons in the month of August in a state of perspiration, with the fatigue and labour of carrying and handing these ashboxes to the congregation in all directions during divine service. Upon conversing with some of the English residents here, they seemed to think that the box of hot ashes was by no means a bad thing, and that in the winter season it was considered particularly necessary in Holland for people of sedentary habits. In remark |