"I this evening witnessed a magnificent spectacle. A dreadful thunder-storm continued for above two hours. You should have seen how the purple and yellow flashes of lightning entwined the summits of the mountains, and have heard the thunder's incessant roar. It appeared as if the Eternal Thunderer was about to convert these cloudcapt eminences to ashes. But unchanged they stoc; the tempest ceased to rage--the thunder its roaring: and the gentle Luna again peeped through the clouds. "A citizen of Zurich is prouder of his title, than a king of his crown. For upwards of one hundred and fifty years, no foreigner has been admitted to the privileges of a citizen. The freedom of this place was, however, offered to Klopstock, on condition of his settling at Zurich. "On Saturday evening Lavater shuts himself in his closet, to consider of his sermon, and which he completes in an hour. In fact it cannot be a difficult task, if all his sermons are like that which I heard to-day. The Saviour has taken all our sins upon himself; for which he is entitled to our warmest gratitude.' These thoughts, which he enlarged upon and embellished, comprised the whole substance of his discourse, exclamations, and declamation! -nothing more! I must confess I expected something of a superior kind. You will perhaps say, that it is necessary to speak thus to the multitude.' But Sterne likewise spoke to the multitude, and yet touched the heartyours as well as mine. Lavater's deliberate delivery however has my complete approbation. The ministes here appear in the pulpit in a singular dress, together with white and very stiffly-starched cra vats. At other times they are dressed in common black, or darkcoloured clothes; and Lavater wears besides a black velvet cap on his head. Perhaps this may be the reason why he is suspected of being a secret catholic. The men stand uncovered in the church du ring the singing of the Psalms; but as soon as the sermon begins they put on their hats and sit down. "I have to-day become acquainted with two countrymen of my friend B, count Moltke, and the poet Baggesen. The latter is author of two grand operas, which have been received by the public in Copenhagen with great applause, but afterwards caused the author the loss both of his tranquillity and his health. You wonder at it! but this was effected by causes perfectly natural.-Envy armed against him a great number of authors, who employed their utmost exertions to convince the public, that Baggesen's operas were vile productions. The young poet however defended himself with warmth, but he found himself alone amidst a host of foes. They attacked him in the newspapers, journals, plays, and every where. For several months he stood the contest, until his strength failed, and he was at length compelled to quit the field. He then travelled to Pyrmont for the benefit of the baths; the physicians sent him from that place to Switzerland, in hopes that the mountain air would complete his recovery. The young count Moltke, who was prosecuting his studies at Gottingen, resolved to accompany him. They are both acquainted with Lavater, and he likes them both on account of their vivacity, for they are equally friends to als! and ohs! The count strikes his forehead and stamps with his feet; and Baggesen, folding his hands, fixes his eyes on heaven, when Lavater speaks with warmth upon any subject. Today or to-morrow they go to Lucern, and B- accompanies them." weeds, bushes, and grey moss, merely serves occasionally as a resting place to the bewildered traveller. Few, indeed, according to the laws of nature, arrive at this pre-eminence; yet, to aspire to it ⚫deserves commendation. May each of my solitary walks, and every lonely hour, be dedicated to such emulation!' "At length I have determined upon leaving Zurich to-morrow, after a stay of sixteen days. I dined to-day with Lavater for the last time; and he has, for the last time, dictated to me.' 'Dictated!' You may depend upon it, and the complaisant Lavater even assures me, that I do not write German very ill. For the last time I have visited the banks of the Limmat; and the murmuring of the impetuous current never lulled my mind into such a melancholy mood as to-day. I seated myself upon a bench at the foot of a lofty linden tree, immediately opposite the spot where the monument of Gessner will soon be erected. I had a volume of his works in my pocket; for it affords me a pleasure which cannot be described, to read his incomparable Idylls on the spot where they were composed. I took it out of my pocket, and opened it just at the following lines: "Posterity justly reveres the urn of the poet whom the Muses themselves consecrated as the teacher of virtue and innocence. His memory ever flourishes, and lives when the warrior's trophies have long sunk into decay; and the magnificent monument of an unprincipled ruler, overgrown in the midst of the wilderness with "Imagine, my friends, with what exquisite sensibility I read this passage on the spot where Nature and Poetry will weep over the ura of the immortal Gessner! "Was he not by the Muses consecrated as the teacher of virtue and innocence? will not his ever-flourishing memory exist when the warrior's trophies have long sunk into decay? The presentiment of immortality filled his soul, when, with his enchanting pen, he wrote these lines. The hand of all-de stroying Time may even at some future period annihilate the town in which the pcet flourished; and, in the course of ages, Zurich may be forgotten; but the flowers of Gessner's muse will never fade; they will exhale their balmy sweets centuries hence, and refresh every heart. How many paths to renown are open to the author! What numerous crowns of immortality await him! Posterity will praise many; but not all with equal warmth. Ye, into whom bounteous Nature hath breathed a creative genius, your works shall render you immortal; but, would you obtain the love of posterity, write as Gessner wrote! devote your pens to Virtue and Innocence." CORRESPONDENCE on POLITE LITERATURE. [From HAYLEY'S LIFE of COWPER.] TO JOHN JOHNSON, ESQ. "My dearest Johnny, 1 "I GIVE you many thanks for your rhymes, and for your verses without rhyme; for your poetical dialogue between Wood and Stone; between Homer's head and the head of Samuel; kindly intended, I know well, for my amusement, and that amused me much. "The successor of the clerk defunct, for whom I used to write mortuary verses, arrived here this morning with a recommendatory letter from Joe Rye, and an humble petition of his own, entreating me to assist him as I had assisted his predecessor. I have undertaken the service, although with no little reluctance, being involved in many arrears on other subjects, and having very little dependence at present on my ability to write at all. I proceed exactly as when you were here-a letter now and then before breakfast, and the rest of my time all holiday; if holiday it may be called, that is spent chiefly in moping and musing, and forecasting the fashion of uncer 'tain evils.' "The fever on my spirits has harassed me much, and I have never had so good a night, nor so quiet a rising, since you went, as on this very morning. A relief that I account particularly season able and propitious; because I had, in my intentions, devoted this morning to you, and could not have fulfilled those intentions, had TO WILLIAM HAYLEY, ESQ. Weston, Nov. 25, 1792. "How shall I thank you enough for the interest you take in my future Miltonic labours, and the assistance you promise me in the performance of them; I will some time or other, if I live, and live a poet, acknowledge your friendship in some of my best verse; the most suitable return one poet can make to another: in the mean time, I love you, and am sensible of all your kindness. You wish me warm in my work, and I ardently wish the same; but when I shall be so, God only knows. My me. lancholy, which seemed a little alleviated for a few days, has gathered about me again, with as black a cloud as ever: the consequence is absolute incapacity to begin. "I was for some years dirge writer to the town of Northamp ton, being employed by the clerk of the principal parish there, to furnish him with an annual copy of verses proper to be printed at the foot of his bill of mortality. But the clerk died, and hearing nothing for for two years from his successor, I well hoped that I was out of office. The other morning, howmy ever, Sam announced the new clerk; he came to solicit the same service as I had rendered to his predecessor, and I reluctantly complied: doubtful, indeed, whether I was capable. I have, however, achieved that labour, and I have done nothing more. I am just sent for up to Mary, dear Mary! Adieu! She is as well as when I left you, I would I could say betRemember us both affectionately to your sweet boy, and trust me for being most truly yours. ter. "W. C." TO JOSEPH HILL, ESQ. Weston, Dec. 16, 1792. Weston, Dec. 16, 1792. "My dear Friend, "We differ so little, that it is pity we should not agree. The possibility of restoring our diseased government is, I think, the only point on which we are not of one mind. If you are right, and it . cannot be touched in the medical way, without danger of absolute ruin to the constitution, keep the doctors at a distance, say I and let us live as long as we can. But perhaps physicians might be found of skill sufficient for the purpose, were they but as willing as able. Who are they? Not those honest blunderers the mob, but our governors themselves. As it is in the power of any individual to be honest if he will, any body of men are, as it seems to me, equally possess ed of the same option. For I can never persuade myself to think the world so constituted by the Author of it, and human society, which is his ordinance, so shabby a business, that the buying and selling of church, I want none, unless by a clergy clergy; and if that could be brought about by emaciating a little some of our too corpulent dignitaries, I should be well contented. "The dissenters, I think, catholics and others, have all a right to the privileges of all other Englishmen, because to deprive them, is persecution, and persecution, on any account, but especially on a religious one, is an abomination. But, after all, valeat respublica, I love my country, I love my king, and I wish peace and prosperity to Old England. Adieu. "W. C." TO WILLIAM HAYLEY, ESQ. Weston, Dec. 26, 1792. "That I may not be silent till my silence alarms you, I snatch a moment to tell you, that, although toujours triste, I am not worse than usual, but my opportunities of writing are paucified, as perhaps Dr. Johnson would have dared to say, and the few that I have are shortened by company. "Give my love to dear Tom, and thank him for his very apposite extract, which I should be happy indeed to turn to any account. How often do I wish in the course of every day, that I could be employed once more in poetry, and how often of course that this Miltonic trap had never caught me! The year ninety-two shall stand chronicled in my remembrance as the most melancholy that I have ever known, except the weeks that I spent at Eartham; and such it has been principally, because being engaged to Milton, I felt myself no longer free for any other engagement. That ill-fated work, impracticable in itself, has made every thing else impracticable. TO WILLIAM HAYLEY, ESQ. Weston, Jan. 20, 1793. "My dearest Brother, "Now I know that you are safe, I treat you, as you see, with a philosophical indifference, not knowledging your kind and immediate answer to anxious inquiries, till it suits my own convenience. I have learned, however, from my late solicitude, that not only you, but yours, interest me to a degree, that, should any thing happen to either of you, would be very inconsistent with my peace. Sometimes I thought that you were extremely ill, and once or twice, that you were dead. As often some tragedy reached my ear concerning fittle Tom, Oh vana mentes hominum!' How liable are we to a thousand impositions, and how indebted to honest old Time, who never fails to undeceive us! Whatever you had in prospect you acted kindly by me not to make me partaker of your expectations, for I have a spirit, if not so sanguine as yours, yet that would have waited for your coming with anxious impatience, and have been dismally mortified by the disappointment. Had you come, and come without notice too, you would not have surprised us more, than (as the matter was managed) we were surprised at the arrival of your picture. It reached us in the evening, after the shutters were closed, at a time when a chaise might actually have brought you without giving us the least previous intimation. Then it was, that Samuel, |