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which perplex the unhappy wight who has been labouring under the guidance of Hickes. But it is in the investigation of the verbs that Rask appears to the greatest advantage, and his classification of them is simple and obvious: of its accuracy there cannot be a better proof than the order and perfect regularity which it enables us to discover in numerous formations previously considered as irregular. His observations upon prefixes and postfixes are written with less care than the previous portion of the Grammar, probably from his not considering the subject as one meriting a deeper discussion. The same excuse cannot be urged for the slighting manner in wbich he has treated another branch-that of Syntax; in this part, although all the more prominent rules are exbibited, those more deeply hidden and picer peculiarities, of wbich we cannot suppose bim to be ignorant, are passed over without notice. This portion of the work therefore appears to great disadvantage when compared with the manner in wbich he has treated the verbs. The chapter upon the laws of Saxon poetry is excellent, and Rask displays a decided superiority over the dogmas of Hickes, Conybeare aud W. Grimm. volume concludes with a very good praxis, by the aid of which, and the other helps which this Grammar affords to the student, the labour of acquiring a tolerable knowledge of the language bas been materially shortened and facilitated. It would be unjust to withhold our thanks from the gentleman who has conferred such a benefit upon English scholars as that of introducing to them, in an English dress, a publication upon which all subsequent investigations into the bistory and fornja. tion of the language of our forefathers must be mainly founded.

The preceding observations were committed to paper some months since: in the interval which has elapsed between their coming before us in types, the melancholy tidings have arrived that the distinguished author is now beyond the reach of our praise or censure-Erasmus Rask is no more!

In the Literary Intelligence of the present number, under the bead of Denmark, will be found such particulars of the life and literary labours of this remarkable scholar and linguist as we have been able to collect together.

Art. XIV.-La Ville de Refuge; Réve philantropique. Paris. Lad

vocat. 1832. 8vo. This is a publication to which it is not necessary to devote more than a few words, nor, indeed, would it be worth noticing at all, if it were not of that class of books wbich form a sort of index to the state of opinion in France in regard to social morality, and the present wants of society in general. The motto of the book is prier, travailler, s'instruire, and it is appended to a vignette representing emblems of religion, implements of industry, and books and other sources of instruction. This motto expresses briefly the whole contents of the book, which amount to this--that governments ought to labour to make their subjects pious, industrious, and intelligent.

The visitor is introduced into a temple in which the inscription “Love one another” appears prominent, as the basis of the faith of the worshippers. One of these, an old man, is made to say of the ceremonies of the temple :

“Each of us professes here freely his own worship; but each of us believes in the faith which he embraces, and conforms thereto, without deviation, his conduct and manners. As for me, whose age has whitened my hair and wrinkled my forehead, and whose experience, though perhaps too slow, has ripened my reason and rectified my mind, I say with a pious bishop long since dead (Gregory of Blois), and whose tomb ‘must have been the seal of many sorrows, What is religion to man, if it is a mere theory, without influence upon his conduct? Of what consequence is the theory of a free government, if it is, in practice, despotic? Of what use are the fine theories of a magistrate upon justice, if he turns the balance in favour of iniquity ?

It would be a libel upon the intelligent and well-educated portion of the French community, to say that they are still imbued with the sceptical philosophy of the last century, or that they are indifferent, or hostile, to the substance of religion. Those who know any thing of the state of mind of enlightened persons in Paris, must be aware that a better philosophy is rapidly taking the place of the materialism of the eighteenth century, and that France is passing through a philosophical transition, which affords promise of a result highly favourable to the most important interests of her people. It is our firm belief that the day is coming when the main truths of Christianity will, in no country, be more firmly established than in France, and, what is more, that those truths will be put into practice. The public veneration for empty cere. monies and fantastic shows may bave died away—the taste for polemical discussion may have grown languid--the superstitious reverence for ecclesiastical dogmas may have abated—but if all this is found to lead, not to the destruction of religion itself, but to its propagation and strengthening, and to the imbuing the hearts of the French people with the fear of God, and the love of man, the charge of irreligion against them is one wbich must wholly fall to the ground. Time will show how far our anticipations may be realized; but thus much is certain, that Paris in 1832 is no more the Paris of Rousseau and Voltaire, tban it is the Paris of St. Louis, and that it is an unmerited imputation upon the most enlightened of the citizens of Paris, to say either that tbey do not respect the essential doctrines of religion, or that they do not practise the precepts of Christianity as much to the full as they are practised in our own metropolis.

Art. XV.-- Paris Malade, Esquisses du Jour, par Eugène Roch. 8vo.

Paris. 1832. A WHIMSICAL and clever book, by a young author of considerable reputation designed to exbibit Paris under the influence of the cholera-we bardly know whether to say tempered or inflamed, perhaps the right word is-modified by the revolution of July, 1830, by the subsequent tumults

and by the existing political discontent and excitement. The work is in a dramatic form, the thwarted loves of a couple of young physicians supplying the thread upon which, though gaining little additional interest, are strung a variety of scenes, representing successively, the effects, ludicrous or serious, of the terror created by the fearful disease amongst the higher classes of Parisian society ;-the atrocities produced amongst the lower and uneducated orders by the strange notion they had conceived that the cholera was a nonentity, and all the symptoms characterizing it, the result of poison administered, vo human creature can imagine why, by the government, to the people ;--the horrible ravages of this pestilential malady ;---the liberality of the rich, and the heroic self-devotion to the loathsome service of the cholera hospitals of women of all ranks and degrees, from the high-born coquette of the brilliant salon, to those degraded beings whom it is usual now-a-days delicately, and most truly, (if somewbat affectedly in the way of generic nomenclature) to designate as unfortunate females. In the course of these scenes the exaggerated opinions of most of the various parties distracting Paris are bappily illustrated; the fanaticism, both political and religious of the Carlists,--or, more properly, the Henriquinquistes, for none are represented as wishing the re-enthronement of the abdicated Charles X.-the extravagancies of the St. Simonians, the innumerable and contradictory absurdities of the populace, &c. &c.

The work, we need bardly state, is decidedly liberal ; both the heroes are, to say the least, Freethinkers in religion, and the fervent Republicanism of one of them, Ferdinand, a medical student on the point of obtaining his diploma, is placed in the most favourable light; but his virulent and bitter philippics against the wealthy are blamed and corrected by his more philosophic friend, Dr. Edward ; and Casimir Perrier, as the representative of the established government, is fairly portrayed, as honestly, if mistakenly, zealons for the good of France. Our English feelings have, indeed, during the perusal of these pages, been some little revolted by the pretty, mirthful piensantry with which the young physician relates the forcible mode of his summons by the agonized wives, husbands, and children, of cholera patients, whom he either finds dead or is unable to save ; but to censure this, would be to censure French pature for not being English, aud we mention it merely to prepare the readers of M. Eugene Roch's curious publication for what will probably prove as disagreeable to them as it bas to us, not in the exercise of our critical office.

Art. XVI.-1. Folchetto Malaspina, Romanzo Storico del Secolo XIlmo.

dell' Autore di Sibilla Odaleta. 3 Tom. 12s. Milan. 1830. 2. Preziosa di Sanluri, ossia i Montanari Sardi, Romanzo Storico, dell'

Autore di Sibilla Odaleta. 3 Tom. 12mo. Milan. 1832. These novels give us no cause to recall or regret one word of the judgment we some years since pronounced upon the author (Signor Varese). They display, with much of the inprovement to be expected from a

writer early deemed so promising as to rank next to Manzoni, the same merits and the same faults as his former works. Here likewise, we have scenes painted with dramatic force, vivid portraitures of by-gone times, and considerable power of writing; and here, too, we find the great inequality, the singular infelicity in managing a story of which we before complained, together with a strange, seeming unconsciousness of the use of love in romance. Let us not, however, be misunderstood. We do not mean to say that Folchetto Malaspina and Preziosa di Sanluri are not duly and respectively in love; in love they both are when first we meet with them, and in love they remain till we take leave of them at their several bridals ;-what we mean is, that for any thing much affecting the story, except upon one occasion, and certainly for any thing we are made to care about the matter, they might nearly as well be fancy free. Both stories, nevertheless, deserve notice, and we propose giving such an abstract of them as may enable the reader to understand our objection. We begin with Folchetto.

Every body knows that in the twelfth century some of the wealtby Lombard cities endeavoured to emancipate themselves from their dependence upon the German, then called the Holy Roman Empire, animated, we fear, quite as much by ambition and mutual hatred, as by a genuine love of liberty. Milan, striving to substitute her own for the Imperial yoke, was at the head of these confederated cities, of which Tortona, ber faithful ally, was one of the feebler members. In and near this last town, the scene of our novel is laid, during the struggle against Frederic Barbarossa. But this insurrection against the Enperor is not the sole, scarcely the chief, object of Tortonese politics. Milan is endeavouring to subject Tortona to herself; Tortona desires to shake off, not to change ber bonds; the middle and lower classes are struggling to free themselves from feudal oppression, the nobles to main. tain tbeir privileges; and Opizzone Malaspina, Signora della Lunigiana, the opulent bead of that family of which our hero is an impoverished scion, is plotting the acquisition of power out of the general confusion, and employs the unsuspecting Folchetto as bis instrument. Folchetto is the leader of the popular party, and is, moreover, in love with Leonilla de' Calcinara, the promised bride of Guglielmo degli Uberti, the leader of the Nobles. A proposal of Opizzone to marry Folchetto's sister, Alice, produces a scene reen the brother and sister, in which the gentleman's arbitrary notions of the implicit obedience due from sisters and daughters, however consonant with the opinions of the times, do not awaken our sympathy with his own course-of-true love, thwarted, as it is, by the choice of friends. Alice having timidly declared that she cannot marry Opizzone, disappears from her father's castle; and the greater part of the first volume is dedicated to the search after her.

This search introduces us to a new—shall we say trade or profession? quite new to us, although it should seem then, and long afterwards, common in Sardinia, to wit, that of the Accabaduri, a name derived by our author from a corruption of the verb accoppare, to knock on the head. In Sardinia, it appears, the tender compassion of the young and

healthy towards the infirm, from age, accident or disease, manifested itself in effectually abridging their sufferings. But as sons, busbands, or wives, might not always relish performing this peculiar office of charity with their own bands, it became the especial business of the Accabaduri, who, from the repulsive character of their avocation, soon constituted a separate caste as well as trade. There were not, bowever, sick and aged people enough to support the whole race by knocking them on the bead, so that the Accabaduri were compelled to vary their occupations, and the women employed themselves as well in mourving the dead with foods of mercenary tears, and improvisoed chaunts of praise and regret, as in fortune-telling. A woman of this class has wandered from Sardinia to the neighbourhood of Tortona, and is an important personage in our story. Thirsting for buman blood, in rengeance for a son wbo bad fallen by the hands of justice, she yet serves aud saves Folchetto, in compliance with a vow she had made, when he once rescued ber from impending death. By the Accabaduri's help, Folchetto learns that his rival in politics and in love bas deluded Alice by a false marriage, and he formally challenges Guglielmo, at a banquet of the nobles, his own personal adversaries, wbich he visits, amidst their bacchanalian revelry, for that express purpose. We shall give a sketch of the duel scene, as one of our author's lively pictures of old manners and feelings. It must be premised, that Guglielmo is a coward as well as a profligate, and that one of his confidential dependents has undertaken to bring him off scathless from his unavoidable duel with the dreaded Malaspina.

The lists are prepared, with an altar at one end, and are surrounded by eager spectators. The judge of the combat takes his seat, mass is said, the armıs of the combatants are consecrated, and the sacrament is administered to the two deadly foes. During all this time the wrathful gloom of Folchetto, and his battle.godfather, Opizzone, are contrasted to the airy undauntedness of Guglielmo, which somewhat surprises his battle godfather, Guido Antosso, who bad entertained some nisgivinys touching his friend's valour. Opizzone now accuses Guglielmo, to the judge, as the betrayer of Alice; Guido rebuts the charge, and the cbampions severally swear to the truth of their godfathers' words, as well as to their being unaided by magic. They then arm and take their places.

“ But still Guglielmo hesitated to throw down Folchetto's glove, an indispensable form. He gazed anxiously around, and only now did Guido discover in him symptoms of dismay. He was approaching to encourage him, when he suddenly saw his eye flash with its preceding brightness, as he boldly fung down the glove. exclaiming,. Malaspina, there is thy glove.' At the same time he closed his vizor, drew his sword, and stepped two paces back, to take room. Rapid as were these movements, they were slow to Folchetto's, who scarcely saw his glove touch the ground ere he had sprung back, brandishing his sword, and stood on guard. Already were the marshals of the lists stooping to remove the interposed olive branches, and unclosing their lips to cry • The field is open,' when, at the far end of the esplanade, appeared one who drew all eyes to himself, and staved the encounter.

This was an old man, tall and gaunt, whose hollow cheeks bespoke the long and painful privations of his corporeal frame. He wore a ragged russet tunic, furnished with a small hood, and girt round his loins by a chain interwovea

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