8 in the morning and 8 in the evening, will be considerably greater.

To obtain an accurate statement of the temperature of a place, the observations should be made every hour; but this is attended with so much trouble and inconvenience, that it will in a very few cases be attempted. Four times a day will be accurate enough for comparisons: at 6 or 7 in the morning, noon, 4 in the afternoon, and 10 or 12 at night. But even three will do very well; and then we should substitute 1 or 2 in the afternoon for the middle period. I limit my observations to three, but circumstances generally prevent me from making the middle one till 5, which is rather too late.

I have further to observe, that the Calton, which is stated to be 350 feet above the level of the sea, is too elevated. The average temperature of that hill, I should think, will be some degrees below the general average temperature of Edinburgh. C. P. London, 9th August 1817.

It

most scrupulously obeyed. I was conducted into a superb apartment, the walls of which were covered with mirrors, shewing me my own ill-apparelled figure in every possible attitude and direction-in front, profile, back view, side view, foreshortened, but all equally true and mortifying. My shabby habiliments were soon whirled off by my aerial little friends the Peris, not without many significant nods and sly looks at each other, as they discovered the holes which had before been ingeniously concealed by my slippers, or the patches which now for the first time emerged into open day. My new dress it is needless minutely to describe. It was rich, full, and flowing. I was literally "clothed in purple and fine linen ;" and after the toilet was completed, one of my winged domestics, hovering above my head, sprinkled me over with perfume which she scattered from a little censer. When I stood up, inhaled the delicious fragrance which was emitted, and perceived myself reflected as before on every different side, I felt a kind of complacency and satisfaction, which was a striking contrast to the mortifying reflections my former appearance had created. It is difficult to express the contempt with which I kicked into a corner my former thread-bare apparel.

It was now pretty well advanced in the evening, and the sun was just setting behind the mountains, which enclosed the valley, as I set out for Jovius' villa, under the guidance of one of my Peris. The scene which now presented itself was consummately beautiful. The romantic peaks of the mountains were partially gilded with his beams, whilst their broad bases lay buried in shade. The lake itself was, in the words of the greatest master of romantic painting,

"One burnish'd sheet of living gold." The spires and colonnades, which have been before described, and the lofty trees which surrounded them as they caught the level rays, shone with a lustre, which was finely contrasted with the blue and shadowy haze which Sunset has been often described, and enveloped the rest of the landscape. has been as often pronounced stale and trite-ground, by the critics. Yet to myself, if there is any time in which Nature appears more lovely

and her language more deep and devotional than another, it is at sunset. But I must proceed with my narration. As I continued my way, I perceived, carelessly seated beneath a tree, whose foliage overhung the road, on a mossy eminence at its root, a figure, who, by the intentness with which he gazed on the scene before him, appeared certainly none of those who affect to be tired of sunset. He seemed wholly engrossed in his own contemplations, -and if he moved, it was only to raise his head to heaven in an attitude of deep thought, and with an expression in which there was a mixture of triumph and devotion. There was something in the air and appearance of this Solitary which rivetted my attention. I stopt instinctively, and, pointing to him, turned to the little Spirit who walked beside me. It evidently had not. perceived him, for immediately on doing so, it put its hands to its lips, motioning me to be silent; and coming close up, "That," said she," is one of the greatest men in our valley, and we are under the strictest orders never to intrude upon him in his solitary hours. Here is a spot, however, from which you may see him clearly without disturbing him. That is William Shakspeare." At this magic name it is impossible to describe my sensations. Shakspeare, the immortal, the imperishable Shakpeare, was before me. Had all the emperors in the world appeared, I could have turned my back on them. It was indeed a moment worth centuries of after existence, which showed me Nature in all her loveliness, and Shakspeare, her own anointed, seated like her high priest in the temple of her beauty. I felt, as I approached nearer the mount on which he lay, that I was on holy ground; and as I passed by in silence, fearing to awake him from his profound meditation, it was with feelings little short of adoration, I could not help often turning back, fearful that I might have seen him for the last time. At length he arose, and, winding slowly down the mount, disappeared in the woods. As my eye gazed after him, the Peri observed "that I need not look so wistfully, for I should certainly see him at Jovius' root. He and old crusty Ben Jonson will be there to a certainty, and you may chance also to find his other favourite cronies, Shirley and ugly Will Davenant."

As we walked forward, I perceived, on one side of the road, surrounded by woods, a large turretted building, from which, as I approached, I could distinctly hear sounds of such deep complaint, and shrill and high-toned objurgation, as convinced me that no scene of merriment was concealed within them. That," said the Peri, "is our Bridewell, or Literary House of Correction, and the murmurs you hear proceed from those unfortunate authors whose literary crimes have there condemned them to a temporary punishment. We have no time fully to examine it, but we may just take a peep into the wood, and trust to what first offers."

As we entered, I saw, seated at some distance from me, a man, who appeared to be writing something much against his will. He took every opportunity of stopping in his labour,-bit his nails, tore his quill, made various contumelious lounges with his pen at his inkstand, and exhibited every possible indication of impatience and disgust. But whenever he stopt, two little fiends, in the shape of printers' devils, who stood on each side of his table, admonished him, by a stroke of their whips, to proceed. In his countenance there was an expression of great talent, but seasoned with no common dose of malignity and derision. At some distance, and seemingly smiling at his misery, stood three aged-looking persons. One in particular I remarked, as in his appearance one of the most striking-looking men I ever beheld. His countenance, and indeed his whole demeanour, was that of an ancient Roman. It was rendered more venerable by a long beard, which reached almost to his middle; and his figure, which was considerably above the middle size, and enveloped in flowing drapery, recalled to my mind those white-stoled sages who wandered in the groves of the Academy. I thought that, as the unfortunate scribe looked at this remarkable person, his countenance assumed a tone of darker malignity, and his unwillingness to write evidently brought more reiterated admonitions from the devils at his elbow. The old man, on the other hand, looked on him with an expression which convinced me that his feelings were more 66 in sorrow than in anger."

"That first culprit, whom you see yonder," said the Peri, "is the fa

mous, or rather the infamous, Scioppius, a man, who by his talents, his malevolent and perverted criticism, his literary forgeries, and his bitter and biting satire, has had the honour of causing more hearts to ache than any who have ever gone before or who may ever come after him. Although it was his lot to live in the sixteenth century, and during an age which, more perhaps than any other, was fertile in great and illustrious men, yet no talents, however exalted, no station, however sacred, no disposition, however gentle or unassuming, could avert the venom of his censure, or sweeten the corrosive bitter of his quill. His walk through the fields of genius and literature was like the passage of the simoom over the gardens of my native Arabia.* It withered every flower of genius, and blasted all the infant blossoms of the mind. He has darkened with his sacrilegious breath the fairest pearls which glittered on the string of poesy; nor was it for want of will that he did not destroy the noblest links that connected the chain of science. Punishment has, however, at last overtaken him. Observe with what malignity he eyes the persons near him.

Videt ingratos intabescitque videndo.' An Eastern Peri of Gennistan quoting Ovid, thought I to myself. That wonder must be the subject of future interrogation. I must not at present interrupt her account. "Those three aged-looking persons, whom you see near him, are Julius Cæ

The Peris are all of Arabic extraction. See D'Herbelot, quoted above in part I. This must also excuse the metaphors she uses, and the hyperbolical tone of indignation which she assumes. The speech of the little Spirit brings to my mind those fine lines in Gifford's severe and lashing, but most admirable, Epistle to Peter Pindar.

Truck praise for lust-hunt infant genius down,

Strip honest merit of its last half-crown. Blow, from thy mildew'd lips, on virtue blow, And blight the Goddess thou can'st never know;"

Is Mr Gifford's muse to be for ever silent? "Is her most eloquent tongue now mute for

ever ?"

The country has a claim on one who possesses his poetical powers. Has he forgot ten the expectations which his motto must raise.

"Nunc in ovilia

Mox in reluctantes dracones.”

sar Scaliger, Casaubon, and Thuanus, most celebrated names, as you well know, and against whom Scioppius ever entertained the most deadly rancour. His punishment is an ingenious one, and to him the most severe that could he allotted. He has been condemned to write an eulogium of Scaliger, in which you see him now employed, and to refute in it all those calumnious and lying aspersions which he engrossed in his Scaliger Hypobolimacus. Those little devils with their whips admonish him to diligence; and as he dare not rise from his table, even to meals, till his eulogium is concluded, his little dinner is cooked before him; and to complete his mortification, his fowls are singed with his Exercitationes Rhetorica, and his apples roasted in the leaves of his Infamia Famiani.* But we have no longer time to spend on Scioppius."

As we turned from this part of the wood, I discerned, at a distance, one man undergoing the most signal castigation from another, who stood above him in a most merciless attitude. "Whom do you imagine that pair to be?" said my little airy Spirit. I professed my ignorance.- Why, that's Livy, the Roman historian, mauling the poor battledore-maker who made his battledores with the parchment of one of his best Decads."

"But turn to the right hand, before

* The works of Gaspar Scioppius are very numerous. See his Life at some length in Bayle. His Scaliger Hypobolimæus is a refutation of the celebrated letter of Joseph Scaliger's, in which he gives a particular account of the life of his father Julius Cæsar Scaliger, and attempts to prove his descent from the Princess of the House of Scaliger in Verona. There is not the least doubt that Scioppius introduced innumerable falsehoods into this work; but, on the other hand, it seems just as evident, that Joseph Scaliger, in his description of the family tree, and the various anecdotes of his father's earlier days, has indulged pretty freely in theoretical conjecture, and, not unfrequently, in direct forgery. The Infamia Famiani is an attack on the first Decad of the History of the Belgic Wars, by Famianius Strada. In speaking of Scaliger, it is impossible not to add, what must strike every one who is anxious for the interests of knowledge, that a life of Joseph Scaliger, with anecdotes of the literary men of his time (which would be in fact, if properly executed, A History of the Revival of Letters and Philosophy in Europe), is at present almost the greatest desideratum in modern literature.

we leave this scene, and you will see a singular group enough." The group certainly was an uncommon one. It consisted of only three figures. One a venerable-looking man, who, not withstanding the mildness of his expression, and the pacific-looking suit of quaker-gray in which he was habited, stood in a firm erect attitude, and along-side of him a little devil with a cane in his hand raised and ready. Beside these stood a learned-looking mitred-father of the Church; and on the back of this reverend prelate was placed, in no very comely position, a poor trembling pedagogue-looking be ing, with his breeches taken down evidently by premeditation, and his arms pinioned across the neck and fixed on the other side by the strong grasp of the bishop. The cane, which had been raised in the air, was now applied very smartly to the lower quarters of the pedagogue; and between every stroke I could hear some little observation or other made by the venerable superintendent.-Such as, "take that for Massenius-So much for the interpolations from Hogaeus.-That's not too smart for Staphortius"-which seemed to increase the energy of the infernal castigator, and to add bitterness to the groans of the unfortunate culprit. "That group," said the Peri, sists of Milton superintending the punishment of Lauder, who so cruelly defamed him, and Bishop Doug lass, or, as we generally name him, Detector Douglass, performing the part of Janitor,"And if Samuel Johnson had got a back stroke or two for his carelessness, thought I, it would have been only what he deserved; "but we must proceed now, Peri, otherwise we may chance to be late for Paulus' rout. By the way, I may ask, as we go along, how you came, Peri, to quote Ovid so appositely in describing poor Scioppius. You don't speak Latin in Gennistan, do you?" "Lord, sir," answered she,

con

we must

all be able to speak not only Latin, but all the learned and ancient tongues, before we can be admitted as domestics here. What could we do amongst so many learned men of all countries, if we were ignorant of their languages? When Sadi calls for his roseate beverage in Persian, or Demosthenes thun, ders out his messages in Greek; when Abulfeda scolds us in Arabic, or Petrarca despatches his billets doux in

Italian; when Regner Lodbrog communicates with his Scalds in the Norse tongue, and Confucius spouts Chinese at his toilet, did we not understand these languages we should stand like so many stocks, unable to devise their commands, or administer to their necessities. No, no, this would never do. We must be well versed in the tongues before we come here. We are taught them from our earliest years, and become linguists a teneris unguicolis.' A Peri's place is no sine cure, sir.

Nil sine magno

Vita labore dedit mortalibus.'

We must ever be ready to listen to the least whisper of a command from out also how it may be most easily our masters in the valley, and to find That's our motto. And now, I think, Ausculta et perpende. after this lengthened harangue, I may conclude with Anacreon's dove.

executed.

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no

Λαλιςεραν μ' εθηκας Άνθρωπε και κορωνης. "No apologies, Peri," said I; apologies for your talkativeness. "Tis most delightful for me to meet with so learned, intelligent, and classical a spirit; and I intreat, that so long as I remain in this new world, I may have the pleasure of your attendance.' "That, sir," said the Peri, to the best of my ability, you shall have; and although you greatly overrate my poor talents, yet it is true, I am remarked among my brethren as being too fond of a learned seclusion. Often, after our day's labour is finished, and our little flower scrip emptied, when the rest of our fraternity are dancing after dinner in the air, or bathing and frolicking in the lake, I will escape to some sweet and sunny cloud, and there pore over my favourite author till my companions come frisking by and tell me I am stupifying and besotting my wits with study."

"This remonstrance, Peri, of your light-bodied friends, when, after the duties of the day, you retire to study, puts me in mind of the speech made to one who was as fond of study, and as severely taxed for it as yourselfold Dan Chaucer. Dan was always fond of putting his moral maxims into the mouths of birds and beasts, and, if you recollect, he makes the eagle say of him in his House of Fame

* These reckeninges, which Chaucer had to finish before he found time to study, were the duties of his office of Comptroller of the Customs, conferred on him by the influence of his magnificent friend and patron, John of Gaunt. See, on this, Godwin's Life of Chaucer, vol. iv. c. lv. -a work in many respects amusing and instructive, though often desultory in the last degree. The conjectural species of biography adopted by Godwin is carried to an excess which is sometimes quite ludicrous. Chaucer perhaps saw Petrarch in Italy perhaps studied at the university of Parisperhaps lived in Donnington Castle" he probably had a large share in forming the mind of the Patron of Wickliffe"-his son was almost certainly created Speaker of the House of Commons--he was most likely of a convivial disposition-and it is probable, that the grant of a daily pitcher of wine, which is four bottles a-day, was for the poet's own daily consumption. Yet although this is the great fault of the work, that the doctrine of probabilities is carried too far, that conjecture often supplies the place of certainty, and possibilities assume the tone of truths-yet that labour certainly is never to be condemned, which has been industriously and often ably employed in the

elucidation of the life and character of the great Father of English Poetry, of one who was in many respects the creator of our language, and perhaps the greatest master of humour that has ever appeared. It is the critical part, however, of the work of Godwin, and that more particularly in the last volume, which forms its chief excellence; and yet, perhaps, the most pleasing part of all is that individuality which the author has succeeded in giving to the character of his bard, by the discovery of those little minutiæ in his manner of life, in his general temper and conversation, which are so interesting in their connexion with great

men.

Had Tod, in the Life he has given us of Spenser, possessed somewhat of the imagination of Godwin, and had Godwin's ardour and ingenuity been more tempered by something like the diffidence and coldness of Tod, both works would have profited by the exchange. VOL. I.

of correction, and in our literary dissertations. A sharp eye may discern the little stars beginning to twinkle in your clear and liquid heaven; and see, what a lovely crescent is resting on yon filmy cloud!"-" Be not afraid, master," said the Spirit: we are just at the gate of Jovius' villa."-As she spoke, we entered a dark avenue composed of trees, whose aged branches met at the top, and formed that species of shadowy and religious aisle to which the ingenuity of modern theory has traced the introduction of our Gothic structures. Towards the end of this avenue, at a considerable distance through the intermingling branches, I saw, constantly moving, sometimes appearing, and at other times disappearing, many lights, which left me no doubt that the villa of our host was situated at the end of the avenue.

It was a very striking scene. The dark avenue, the silver crescent which shone serenely through the boughs, and the solemn tranquillity of all around me, formed a striking contrast to the constant agitation and flickering of the lights in the distance.

"How sweet, how silent, how beautiful is Nature when she rejoices," thought I.

"How inconstant, how agitated in his pleasures is man."This avenue, too, was dearer to me for another reason: for whether it was that my mind was then dwelling upon former days, or that the coincidence was merely accidental, it recalled to my memory a scene of our own world with which I was deeply familiar, which I had once most fondly cherished, but which now is lost to me for

ever. As we advanced nearer to its termination, the brilliancy of the lights increased, the dark outline of the building was seen on the sky, and I heard the music sounding in its halls. At length we reached it; and after entering the porch, and walking through several passages, which were superbly illuminated, two folding doors, at the touch of the Peri, expanded "their wings of pride."

"Within them was one blaze of light, A thronging scene of figures bright." And certainly poor Ellen, when she threw her timid but beautiful gaze over the assembled Court of King James, was not more astonished or bewildered than I, when the bright, the varied, the astonishing picture of Jo4 E