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seated himself, with the demeanour of a Cato, at the table, lighted his pipe, which was ready filled, and blew out great volumes of smoke.
• Is not all this as if one were at the play ?' said the goodhumoured Amtmann, addressing himself to me. The. Doctor, who generally never reads a German book, borrowed from us a volume of Schlegel's Shakspeare, and since that time he has, according to his own expression, never ceased playing old well-known tunes upon a strange instrument. You must have observed, that even the innkeeper speaks in measured verse, the Doctor having drilled him for that purpose.'. He was interrupted by the appearance of the land. lord with his punch-bowl, ready filled with liquor, smoking hot; and although Green and Ewson both swore that it was scarcely drinkable, yet they did not fail to swallow glass after glass with the greatest expedition.
We kept up a tolerable conversation. Green, however, remained very silent, only now and then falling in with most comical contradictions of what other people had said. Thus, for example, the Amtmann spoke of the theatre at Berlin, and I assured him that the tragedy hero played admirably. - That I cannot admit,' said Dr Green. Do you not think if the actor had performed six times better, that he might have been tolerable ?? Of necessity I could not but answer in the affirmative, but was of opinion, that to play six times better would cost him a deal of unnecessary trouble, as he had already played the part of Lear (in which I had already seen him) most movingly. This, said Green, quite passes the bounds of my perceptions. The man, indeed, gives us all that he has to give. Can he help it if he is by nature and destiny inclined to be stupid ? However, in his own way, he has brought the art to tolerable perfection; therefore one must bear with him.'
The Amtmann sat between the two originals, exerting his own particular talent, which was, like that of a demon, to excite them to all sorts of folly ; and thus the night wore on, till the powerful ambrosia began to operate. At last Ewson became extravagantly merry:
With a hoarse, croaking voice, he sung divers national songs, of which I did not understand a word; but if the words were like the music, they must have been every way detestable, Moreover, he threw his periwig and coat through the window into the court, and began to dance a hornpipe, with
such unutterable grimaces, and in a style so supernaturally grotesque, that I had almost split my sides with laughing The Doctor, meanwhile, remained obstinately solemn, but it was obvious, that the strangest visions were passing through his brain. He looked upon the punch-bowl as a bass-fiddle, and would not give over playing upon it with the spoon, to accompany Ewson's songs, though the innkeeper earnestly entreated of him to desist.
As for the Amtmann he had always become more and more quiet; at last he tottered away into a corner of the room, where he took a chair, and began to weep bitterly. I understood a signal of the innkeeper, and inquired of this dignitary the cause of his deep sorrow ? · Alas! alas !' said he, the prince Eugene was a great, very great general, and yet even he, that heroic prince, was under the necessity to die! Thereupon he wept more vehemently, so that the tears ran down his cheeks. I endeavoured as well as I could to console him for the loss of this brave hero of the last century, but in vain.
Dr Green, meanwhile, had seized a great pair of snuffers, and with all his might drove and laboured with theni towards the open window. He had nothing less in view than to clip the moon, which he had mistaken for a candle. Ewson, meanwhile, danced and yelled as if he were possessed by a thousand devils, till at last the underwaiter came, with a great lantern, notwithstanding the clear moonlight shone into the apartment, and cried out, · Here I am, gentlemen. Now you can march.'
The Doctor arose, lighted his pipe, (which he had laid aside while the enjoyments of the punch-bowl lasted,) and now placed himself right opposite to the waiter, blowing great clouds into his face. · Welcome, friend, cried he, * Art thou Peter Quince, who bearest about moonshine, and dog, and thorn-bush ? 'Tis I that have trimmed your light for you, you lubber, and therefore you shine so brightly! Good night then! Much have I quaffed of the contemptible juice here denominated ambrosial punch. Good night, mine honest host-Good night, mine Pylades !'
Ewson swore that he would instantly break the head of any one who should offer to go home, but no one heeded him. On the contrary, the waiter took the Doctor under one arm, and the Amtmann, still weeping for Prince
Eugene, " under the other ; and thus they reeled along through the streets, towards the Amthaus.
With considerable difficulty, we carried the delirious Ewson to his own room, where he raged and blew for half the night on his flute, so that I could not possibly obtain any rest; nor did I recover from the influences of the mad evening, until I found myself once more in my travelling carriage.
· Throw aside your books of Chemistry, and study Godwin on Necessity,' the advice of Mr Wordsworth to a student in the temple some thirty years ago, applied to an author then enjoying a popularity arising from circumstances which have since contributed to depress his reputation. Fame, whose duration depended on the success of that tragic experiment, might naturally be expected to subside as we approach an era when the French Revolution can be re
* The following is extracted from the Biographical Dictionary of Living Authors.
William Godwin, son of Mr J. G. Minister of a congregation of Dissenters at Guestwick, Norfolk, was educated at the Dissenters' Collège, at Hoxton, and in 1778 began to officiate as minister at Stowmarket, Suffolk, where he continued till 1782, when he laid aside the clerical character, removed to London, and determined to pursue literature as a profession. In 1797 he was united to the celebrated Mary Wollstonecraft, who died the same year. His second marriage took place in 1801. Some years since Mr G. opened a bookseller's shop in Skinner-street where he has ushered into the world many very useful works tending to facilitate the instruction of youth. Mr G. is said to be the author of various publications to which he has not affixed his name; bis avowed productions are :
Sketches of History, in six Sermons, 12mo, 1782. -Enquiry concerning Political Justice and its Influence on general Virtue and Happiness, 4to, 1793. 3d edit. 2 vols. Svo, 1797.-Things as they Are, or the Adventures of Caleb Williams. 3 vols. 1794.-Cursory Sketches on the Charge delivered by Lord Chief Justice Eyre to the Grand Jury, Oct. 2, 1794, 8v0.- The Enquirer; Reflections on Education, Manners, and Literature, in a series of Essays, 8vo, 1796.-Memoirs of (Mary Wollstonecraft,) the Author of a Vindication of the Rights of Woman, 8vo, 1798.St Leon, a tale of the 16th century, 4 vols. 1799.-- Antonio, a tragedy, 1801.--Thoughts occasioned by the perusal of Dr Parr's Spital Sermon, being a reply to the attacks of Dr P., M. Mackintosh, and others, 8vo, 1801.-The Hist. of the Life and Age of Geoffry Chaucer, 2 vols. 4to, 1803. 2d edit. 4 vols. 8vo, 1804.-Fleetwood, or New Man of Feeling, 3 vols. 1805.-Faulkner, a tragedy, 8vo, 1807.-—Essay on Sepulchres, 8vo, 1809.- A History of the Commonwealth of England has lately appeared.
garded without the sanguine hopes of the visionary, or the delusive transport with which its dawning was hailed by the philanthropist. Other causes may have assisted in throwing premature obscurity over his name as a fearless speculator; but it is not with Mr Godwin as author of the far famed Enquiry concerning Political Justice that we have at present to deal. The soundness or fallacy of opinions there promulgated can furnish matter of censure or of praise only to the moralist and politician : his merits as a Novelist interest a far more comprehensive class. As the author of Caleb Williams his name is familiar in every quarter of civilized Europe, and will continue to be mentioned with respect' while man takes an interest in the delineation of human character modified by events so strange as to border on improbability, yet narrated with an air of such seeming reality as to silence every doubt-to make the reader, as it were, an eyewitness of all he is perusing, and to hurry him on without power to resist the fascination. It is seldom that a writer, taking part in disputes only of transient interest, produces a work, as in the present instance, to be universally relished after the circumstances from which it originated have passed into oblivion. Caleb Williams was at first intended as a satire on local usages ; but its author has gone beyond his immediate object, and addressed himself to feelings which are permanent as human nature. It has evidently been composed with a view to demonstrate the probability of being brought to the gallows for a theft or a murder of which we may be innocent as the child un. born. Yet, though such a proposition be all but consolatory to the reader, and although a fiction intended to support even an instructive maxim must ever be of questionable merit, it were difficult to name a work which excites so strong an interest. The author may often reason fallaciously on the motives of his actors—his facts may be improbable, and his characters inconsistent --but the reader, lost in sus