the task of reforming them. He saw the taste of his countrymen perverted by false teachers, and exposed their fallacies. Truth, in simplicity, and a stern morality, are inculcated in all his works, in a powerful style that enforce his lessons, and speaks at once to the understanding of his readers. But, though a master in satire, he is not a cheerful or a graceful writer. There is a gloom and severity about him that saddens us; and he dwells too frequently on the evil and the terrible. Nor can he divest himself of personality in his writings; even in his dialogue' the author speaks so frequently, as to convince us he has not learned that most difficult of all literary problems.

The best of his novellen,-"Des Dichter's Leben," (The Poet's Life,) has great interest; but we cannot at present lay hands upon it for the purpose of extract. "Abdallah" was composed while his mind was in the tumult produced by the fiery plays of Schiller's youth. It was corrected some years afterward. "Lovell" was begun about 1792. The deep knowledge of mind displayed in this production, with the dark view it takes of human nature,-its contempt of life, and unmasking of hypocrisy and falsehood, prevented it from pleasing at first, but afterwards secured it many readers and friends. In fact, the caustic satire in all Tieck's stories, must have interfered with their immediate popularity. But, so far as he has corrected the absurdities of the public taste, he is entitled to gratitude. Some of his tales exhibit the follies or vices of provincial life in Germany, and, in consequence, have little interest for the American reader. "Die Reisenden," (The Travellers,) and "Der Yahrmarkt, (The Annual Fair,) are of this sort. In the "Wundersuchtigen," (Seekers of Wonders,) the absurdities of magnetism and magic are shown up. The "Zauberschloss," (Haunted Castle,) shows the folly of superstition. "Der Hexen Sabbath," (Witch Sabbath,) exhibits Catholic bigotry. "Die Verlobung," (The Betrothal,) is a favorite story, and has much sweetness and domestic interest. "Der Aufruhr in den Sevennen," (The Insurrection in the Sevennen,) is also esteemed among his best. "Melusina" was written in 1800, at Jena, after the author's recovery from a long and painful illness, in delightful weather and in a charming residence. Here, also, he translated Ben Jonson's Epicene. "Der Geheimnissvolle," (The Mysterious,) one of his best, appeared much later, but is in the collection of his early works. It VOL. VI.-NO. 12.

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was originally planned in dramatic form, but afterwards altered to the novel. It may be mentioned, that the term novel, in German, is applied not only to tales occupying two or three volumes, but also to stories but a few pages in length. "Pietro von Abano," a tale of the famous magician, displays much of the wild and powerful imagination of Tieck. The sorcerer, busy in his incantations during the storm, and the resurrection of the dead Crescentia by his arts, is a picture that takes strong hold of the fancy. Here is a specimen :

"All was now silent, and Pietro stood up. He beckoned, and the figures grovelling on the ground, or floating and entwining themselves with each other in the air, disappeared. He wiped the sweat from his brow, and breathed freely. The dwarf came back quickly, and said-Master, all is quiet. I have seen shapes of faint light fading away into the gloomy sky. Then I looked fixedly at the cathedral, and heard a crash of music, as if all the strings of a harp had been torn asunder at once, with a loud, stunning noise, that caused the houses and the pavements to tremble. The great door of the cathedral swung open; I heard the soft, sweet sound of flutes, and a clear, silvery light filled the church. At the same time I saw in the light the figure of a woman, pale, of dazzling fairness, crowned with a garland of flowers, coming out of the door into the street. Her head drooped, and her hands were folded: she came towards our dwelling. Is it she whom you expect?'

'Take this golden key,' answered Pietro, 'and open the innermost and most sumptuous apartment of my house. Spread the curtains of purple silk, and let the perfumes escape. Then go to thy own chamber. Enquire no further. Be obedient and silent, as thou valuest thy own life.'

'I obey,' replied the dwarf, and departed with the key, throwing back as he went a glance of malignant joy.

The faint murmur approached nearer. Pietro went into the hall, and saw enter the corpse-like figure of Crescentia, in her long funeral garments, and clasping the crucifix in her folded hands. The magician stood before her; she opened her large eyes slowly, and as she fixed them on him, a shudder went through her whole frame, so violent that the wreath fell from her head. Without speaking, he endeavoured to take the crucifix from her; but she held it fast in her left hand, while he led her by the right through the different apartments. She went on in silence, apparently unconscious, and without looking around her.

He conducted her to the most remote chamber. It was richly adorned with silk and purple and gold. A dim light only, during the day, was admitted through the heavy curtains. Pietro pointed to the bed; and the figure so strangely brought to life seated herself, nodding like a lily shaken by the wind, and sank back, breathing heavily, on the purple cushions. The magician poured some drops from a golden flask into a small crystal cup, and held it to her lips. The pale lips received the cordial; Crescentia opened her eyes once

more, fixed them on the person who stood beside her, then turned away with an expression of abhorrence, and sank into a deep sleep. Pietro went out, carefully locking the chamber. All in the house was quiet. He returned to his own apartment, and awaited the return of day among his books and instruments of magic."

In this half-living state, Crescentia is found by her lover, Antonio, one of the sorcerer's pupils, but ignorant of his real character. Crescentia discloses his villainy, and entreats Antonio to aid her in her return to the repose of the grave, so impiously violated. This can be accomplished only by leading her into the church, and to the altar, at the moment the host is elevated :

"All the bells rang, on the morning of the festival of Easter. The people crowded to the cathedral, to take part in the solemnities of the day, and to see the celebrated Apone (Pietro d'Abano) invested with his new dignity. His scholars accompanied their master, who was greeted with reverence by the nobility and the people. He wore an aspect of the deepest humility and pious abstraction. At the church door, the crowd separated and stood back to allow him room to pass. In his prelate's dress, adorned with the golden chain, with his floating locks and white beard, he appeared with the dignity of a monarch, or some ancient father of the church.

A place of distinction was appointed him near the altar, where he could be seen by his scholars and the people; and as the worshippers began to fill the church, the service of high mass commenced.

The first part of the service was ended, when, to the surprise of those who beheld, Antonio Cavalcanti entered the church by a door beside the altar, leading by the hand a figure closely veiled. He led his companion to a place directly opposite Pietro, and threw himself on his knees before the altar. The veiled figure stood motionless and rigid, and a pair of burning eyes could be seen under the veil. Pietro rose from his seat, then sank back pale and trembling. The music of the service burst forth in full accord; the figure slowly drew aside the veil; and the nearest spectators recognized with horror the dead Crescentia. A murmur ran through the assembly; and the most distant were conscious of a secret shudder of fear, as they saw the pale, motionless image, with face turned intently towards the priest at the altar. The majestic Apone himself seemed changed to a corpse, save that life was betrayed in the trembling of all his limbs. The priest now elevated the holy host; trumpets announced the presence of the Lord; the figure extended its arms, with a joyous cry of 'Hosanna!' that rang through the vaulted aisles, fell forward, and lay cold and dead at the feet of the magician."

The whole assembly is thrown into confusion; Antonio stands up, and declares to the congregation the horrible wickedness of his former master. Pietro is forced to fly, and

pursued to his own house by the indignant execrations of the multitude. The house is burnt, and he escapes only by his magical arts, to meet afterwards with a more terrible fate.

The Zauberschloss is not, as its title would seem to indicate, a ghost story. The daughter of Freimund is in love with a young captain, whose father, a noble old general, is at feud with Freimund, on account of some foolish passage in their youth; so that the young lady's father has selected another bridegroom for her, and is determined to have the betrothal feast in the Zauberschloss, a new purchase of his, and a place noted for traditions full of mystery and horror. The party are overtaken by a severe storm in this locality, and take shelter in the castle. Here a variety of adventures befall them, all terrifying at first, but ending in the comical. The last one is the running away with the young lady and her companion, by a pair of fiery horses, without a driver. Freimund is disgusted at the selfish indifference manifested by the intended bridegroom, and remains for hours in uncertainty of his daughter's fate. At last she is restored by the young captain, who has rescued her; the general and his former friend are reconciled, and the story ends with the marriage of the lovers.

Tieck's romance of "Vittoria Accarombona," has been admired by many German writers, and contains scenes so powerfully described as to justify their enthusiasm. But the interest is not sustained throughout the two volumes; and the effect or tendency of the work, as a whole, does not redeem its defects.

Zschokke is much more cheerful in his satire than Tieck, and possesses more of comic talent, though he has far less power in depicting the gloomy and terrific, and lacks the force as well as the severity that give such effect to Tieck's pictures. His works, which are numerous, afford, in our opinion, more agreeable reading, especially as his style is simpler and less involved than that of Tieck. In his stories, the reader floats along without effort, as on a placid stream, where he encounters nothing to startle or disturb him. This novelist was born at Madgeburg, in 1771, and was left an orphan in early childhood, his father dying in 1779. He was sent to school by his relations, pronounced a dunce, and declared only fit for a mechanical or mercantile business, till some better discerner of incipient genius took pains to draw

him out. An old sailor, a laborer in the household of his sister, amused him night after night with wondrous tales of the sea, and he resolved to study, for the purpose of fitting himself to visit foreign parts. In after years, the perusal of the great authors of his native country, Schiller in particular, besides Ossian and Shakspeare, kindled and fed the flame of his youthful imagination. Isolated as he was,—without teachers, confidants or friends, he lived less in the real world than among the creations of his fancy.

The peculiarities of mind induced by the circumstances of early youth, coloured all his after life, and had no little influence on his genius. While yet a young man, he travelled through Germany into Switzerland, in which country he intended to reside. The grandeur and beauty of the scenery afforded unfailing enjoyment to his poetic mind. After travelling over the country, he took charge of a school; and was afterwards employed by the governors of several Swiss cantons. He filled many offices, before his retirement, in consequence of his dissatisfaction with the conduct of the Berne senate.

Most of his tales were written after his retirement from public business, in the quietude of domestic life, where he had leisure for literary pursuits. His works fill several volumes, and are, of course, of unequal merit; yet so popular are they, that no German writer of fiction has been so extensively translated.

The "Journal of a poor Vicar in Wiltshire," has met with more favor in this country than any other of Zschokke's productions; and is, indeed, unrivalled in simple pathos. As in Goldsmith's celebrated novel, the poor Vicar loses his all, and is reduced to the verge of absolute want, but retains his pious trust in Providence, and displays new virtues in the depth of depression and poverty. It is evidently an imitation of the Vicar of Wakefield, though the following note, prefixed to the German tale, has misled some readers:

"AUTHOR'S NOTE.-Goldsmith's Vicar of Wakefield appeared in London about 1772. This circumstance is mentioned, because it is barely possible that the poet may have taken the first idea of his entertaining work, from a fragment of the "Journal of a Vicar in Wiltshire," which had, in 1766, been published in the British Magazine. It was there stated to be a faithful history, and, it is evident, owed little to the embellishment of fancy."