out of the depth quite near, but a little further forward. That Rodrick must have left these traces of blood behind in his flight; that Manfred must, even at that moment, be engaged in fight with him, shot like a flash of lightning through Reidmar's mind. With the speed of the wind, he flew through the hideous hall. At the farther side stood an open door, disclosing some steps which led beneath. A startling sound of complaint, in which Reidmar recognized Manfred's voice, added wings to his steps. Having descended, he stood in a large, damp vault, at the other end of which he noticed Manfred, whom Rodrick held fast to the ground. Rodrick howled like an enraged animal over his opponent, whilst Manfred groaned out: 'hard! hard to meet my death in this vault! an infuriated enemy before me.' "Hastening thither, Reidmar saw that Rodrick was worked up to real madness by wounds and rage, attempting to stick his teeth into the face of the fallen, who now but feebly defended himself. Reidmar lifted his blade, but Rodrick applied himself to his sword with all the fearful energy of a maniac, raised it in the air like a giant, and hurled a blow, at Reidmar's breast, which, at the same moment, brought the latter, in great pain, to the ground. Manfred now lay still in mute astonishment. Now Rodrick, placed between them both, burst into laughter, and mocked at them in childish wantonness, and then foaming at the mouth, fastened upon Reidmar. Astonishment gave force and resolution to the latter. He snatched a pistol from his belt, and fired it off in close contact with Rodrick's breast. The report reverberated like a clap of thunder through the vault, and the madman rolled himself sideways, with a piteous howl. As Reidmar stood up tottering, Manfred also tried to raise himself. He supported himself on the proffered arm of his deliverer, both held fast upon one another, glad, in this solitude, after this event, of the consolation of being near some known human being. That was a horrible conflict,' said Manfred in a half tone. Reidmar nodded his assent.They did not venture themselves upon the body of the dead man, hardly yet stiff, but Reidmar took, as a trophy, the sword, which, in his last agony, he had hurled from him. It was only when they found the deserted hall behind them, and the sounds of their companions' horns bespoke the approach of human beings, that the colour returned to their cheeks, and their breasts began again to breathe freely.'" p. 129. Rodrick and Front de Bœuf are evidently the same description of character. We think, however, judgment is on the side of the foreign writer, who makes his monster rather remarkable for exhibitions of corporeal energy and furious gesticulation, than for venting his spleen in words. We consider the last dying speech of Front de Bœuf as presenting mere pages of inanity. Whether for good or for evil, the speeches of all men, in articulo, are we take it like all speeches of persons in earnest, short and pithy. Where the style, in such cases, is exuberant, we may be sure that it is the writer and not the moribund who holds forth each phrase may possess propriety, yet the whole fail in verisimilitude. : We must now succinctly present our readers with the sequel of the Tale. No exhibition of prowess, on the part of Reidmar, could expect to avail much in the heart of fair woman, after the fine opportunity afforded by the intervention of the priest and Reidmar's failure to avail himself of it. In addition to this circumstance, the fatal locket, which holds so prominent a place in the machinery of the piece, was severed from his neck during the contest with Rodrick. With this, the spell which bound the lovers was dissolved. Diona deserts Reidmar, and elopes with Manfred, with a view to prosecute her ambitious projects. On receiving a letter from her announcing her departure, Reidmar attempts to commit suicide, but is prevented in the very act by Lorentin, who insists upon his accompanying him to the continent for the purpose of exonerating him from the charge of having killed Diona's royal suitor. They pursue the same track with Diona, and suddenly discover her and Manfred in a forest. An altercation ensues between him and Reidmar, when the latter is mortally wounded by the former. Godwina and Beata also appear and close the eyes of the dying man. The chief fault of this tale is the great indistinctness of the character of Lorentin, which is not sufficiently developed, considering the importance which attaches to him in the progress of the piece. With this exception, and the business of the miniature and its contained poison, the whole is natural, interesting, and well supported. There are nineteen shorter tales contained in the volumes before us, many of them exhibiting great fertility of invention, richness of fancy, and beauty and delicacy of execution. Most of them, however, are deformed with a dash of the marvellous. We have neither time nor inclination for a particular analysis of each. We shall, however mention the names of some of them, and point out a few passages, which, from their merit, we consider worthy to be presented to our readers. "The Happy Fortnight" (Die vierzehn glücklichen Taze) is remarkable for the splendour of its details, and has, if we mistake not, made its appearance in English. Leonardo is a poor poet, whose imagination becomes extravagantly excited by two or three glimpses that he had caught of a princess, the daugher of a reigning duke. He, at first, restrains the exorbitancy of his passion, by a reflection, which is commonly sovereign in such cases-that there was not the slightest probability of its ever being gratified. But the evil one makes his appearance, and inspires other and less correct notions. He engages that Leonardo's wishes shall be gratified for a fortnight, and that he shall VOL. III.-NO. 5. 8 taste all the delights that requited love, with the exalted object of his wishes, could confer, upon his agreeing to surrender himself at the end of that time forever. In an evil hour, Leonardo consents. The duke is afflicted with a supernatural malady, that nothing but the music of Leonardo can charm away. Gratitude for this benefit easily degenerates into love, and the poet accordingly is gratified. The delineation of their transports during the first days of their connexion, the flood of bright and beautiful objects that is poured around, the apprehension of Leonardo, as the period of his contract draws to its close; his despair, and the withering effects of his change of situation on every scene with which he had been familiar, are conceived and developed by a mind of no ordinary power. Leonardo had succeeded in inspiring the princess with mutual passion, and become her constant companion. One evening seated together on a marble bench in the garden of the palace, Cristaline had woven a garland of myrtle and laurel, with which she intended to deck the brows of Leonardo. In the mean time a remarkable bird, of very bright colour appeared, and taking it in its bill, flew away with it : "O the thief!' cried Cristaline, sighing, 'I had intended the beautiful garland for you, laurel and myrtle, for you my ingenious lover, my beloved genius! thou shouldst preserve it, and the sight of it should forever remind you how precious is art, how glorious is love.' 'He dares not carry it off from me,' said Leonardo, and pursued the bird, which appeared to be tame and to hop towards him. It acted as if it were waiting for him, but when Leonardo came nearer, he glided two or three trees farther off, again looking down at him and Cristaline very knowingly and quietly. In the course of this pursuit they had already passed the bounds of the castle-garden, and Cristaline, laughing all the while at the unsuccessful pursuit of her friend, passed on by the side of him through the wood. Leonardo chagrined, at last seized a stone. If kindness will not get it from him, then let fear do it,' cried he, and threw at the little creature. It flew away moaning, but kept its booty fast in its bill, and let its flame-coloured bill shine through a neighbouring bush, in which it had alighted. Again, Leonardo and Cristalina hastened after it, to be again disappointed, and so it happened continually until the bird appeared to be uneasy at the game, darting over the highest trees with the speed of lightning, and disappearing beyond the highest pine-tops. Leonardo eyed him with vexation, and Cristaline said on a sudden: 'but, good God! where are we now? In what direction do the palace and the city lie? See the calm solitude by which we are surrounded, Leonardo!' Indeed their zealous pursuit had conducted them into a little, wood-skirted valley, which had never been observed before by either of them. Every thing within it appeared calm and lovely; the sward, bright, green and fresh; the trees, umbrageous, and every where, with dense foliage, a gently rippling spring at their feet, and on its margin a tastefully built cabin of twigs and shining pine-tassels. It is true,' said Leonardo,' the spot is also quite strange to me. But what makes you tremble, Cristaline? Does it not appear beautiful to you here?' So far from the castle,' said she, so lonely, and the evening begins to overshadow us already!' Trust, however, to the guidance of him to whom thou entrustest thy heart, dear Cristaline,' said Leonardo, and pressed his hand soothingly on her breast.— 'Calm thyself, I will inquire the way home from the inhabitants of the cabin. We cannot be far from the castle-garden.' He opened the door. Every thing within was quiet and solitary, but very elegant: mats of plaited rushes, growing flowers climbing up the open windows, instead of the hearth a piece of green marble, on which, however, only a small quantity of ashes, long since cold, appeared to present indications of the former inhabitants. Every thing bore remarkable traces of long desertion and neglect. We shall find nobody here' said Cristaline, anxiously.' 'Nobody, but ourselves,' added Leonardo, and throwing his arm around her, drew her gently after him into the cottage. How every thing here,' proceeded he, appears domestic, real and familiar. It is erected for two lovers Cristaline! only room for two amorous flowers at the window-is not this also to thy satisfaction.' 'How then,' said Cristaline, perplexed,—' As if we were at home here,' replied Leonardo, as if I had gone out, in the morning, to hunt or fish, and thou receivedst me, at my return, as my beloved wife. Good evening, dear Cristaline!' What a chatterer thou art,' said she, blushing more deeply. Let us go before the door?' 'Not so, dearest, sweetest,' said he, the trees already wave their tops in the evening gale, and every thing is agreeable and secure. Remain in our charming shelter, my love.' 'Heaven, my father! how will he look out after me,' said she, sighing; beware of his anger.' 'At this moment, we do not know whereabouts his court lies. He, and all his household, know nothing of our cottage and this valley, we are now virtually separated from them; the moment really presents thee to me as my beloved wife.' 'The moment!' rejoined she,' what is a moment against an hour! an hour in comparison of a fortnight! O treat not life with so little foresight.' 'Fourteen days,' said Leonardo, pensively. Fourteen days, sayest thou. Ah! Cristaline, they are divinely long. If one could buy them with temporal, nay, more, even with finite misery-Ah! wo to the thoughtless trifler!" 'What dost thou mean, Leonardo?' stammered she, 'the wildness of your appearance alarms me.' 'My sweet wife!' so he called her again with a bolder embrace, till, with soothing tenderness dissipating her bashfulness, he won the latest and most secret prize of love." Vol. ii. p. 76. The contrast between this scene and that in which the folly and wickedness of his course is brought home to his experience is very striking: "Leonardo passed on silent and deeply dejected to his garden. At its little gate, he found a poinard and a glass vial, which contained a fermenting, red liquor, betraying its poisonous power. He threw both into the brook that flowed by, crying out: 'I know you well devil, but you have not my soul yet, and shall not gain it so soon.' He who is no longer happy was at least so once, and the temple of joyful reminiscence shines in me, inaccessible to your grasp. He entered the garden. The pines appeared clear and bright in the blue heaven, the myrtles waved friendly, overshadowing his way, and whilst he related to these, the former confidants of his rash desire, the happiness which he had since enjoyed; his heart became prouder and more cheerful. He laid himself down to rest, like a wearied, but unsubdued warrior, in the wellknown alcove. About midnight, he was awakened by the light of blue and yellow flames, and found his garden on fire. Like dried staves, the pines crackled out of the flame upwards, the myrtles bowed, their withered twigs bent down towards the smoking sward, and the devil's laugh of scorn sounded in the midst. I might have expected it,' said Leonardo, and went out with his guitar in his hand over the live coals, which, moistened by some tears from his eyes, hissed more clearly, and touched his mantle. Only take me some whither,' said he to them, but the devil's voice shrieked out: 'not yet, my stag! the chase is a delightful game to me.' Leonardo halted under a cork tree, regarding, almost with indifference, the conflagration of his small possession.'Love, honour, power,' said he, at last-what have I now that he can take away from me?' He grasped the strings of his guitar, but its sounding board started in horrid discord into a thousand pieces. 'Yes,' said he, thou also belongest to externals; but now I bid the enemy defiance!" " p. 97. Leonardo stabs himself with a dagger, which the evil one had purposely thrown in his way. The body could not be found, but only dark, black blood, which inspired every one with horror. There are scarcely any of these tales from which we might not extract passages of great beauty and power. We have already given some specimens in which a fine fancy is evidently predominant. We shall now present our readers with a picture of a different description. It is from the story entitled, "The Unknown Patient" "Der unbekannte Kranhe." "In a German, free, imperial city, somewhere about three hundred years ago, the following singular event took place, which appears to be well worthy of being related. "The old, respectable and highly celebrated physician, Mr. Helfrad, sat before the fire late one evening in the harvest, with his spouse, in edifying discourse. They had sent the household to bed, since supper was over, and no one liked to place a restraint upon the two good old people. Mr. Helfrad had, that day, obtained the costly copy of a pious book from the convent of Maria's Help, where he had long ago bespoke it, and could not help reading, that same evening, a portion of it to his wife, for his eyes were yet lively and fresh like those of a man of thirty. The whole heart of the married couple was engaged in pure exultation with the thoughts of the excellent writer, and more especially with some fine verses, which were also contained in the book; full of thankful |