of Diether Frosch, and his suspicions of his innocent wife, are merely disgusting. Our sense of justice is wounded, when Margaret forgives and returns to him. Another fault. is, that the love of Dagobert for Esther makes little or no progress throughout the romance. At the close, their separation by means of the pious fraud of the Jewish girl herself, and his marriage with Regina, leave a painful impression on the mind, which may, however, further the author's view of showing up the evils of the state of society existing in those times.

Tromlitz is a voluminous writer, and though inferior as a novelist to Spindler, deserves praise for his pictures of historical character in Germany and Italy. He excels in the portraiture of individuals, and depicts admirably the peculiarities of different countries and ages, and the influence of different times and circumstances upon men. Though his stories are rather complicated from great variety of incident, they have usually much interest. His boldness in the conception of character, and dramatic ability, have commanded for him a high degree of popularity in his native land.

Among the classic writers of fiction, the name of Hoffmann must not be omitted; since several of his tales have become known to readers in this country, through the medium of translation. He is a leader in what may be termed the fantastic school; where wildness and extravagance are the first elements;-a species of writing of which we have no worthy examples in English, unless we except the romance of Frankenstein. The wild tale of "Peter Schlemil," is of this sort; the Germans have many like it. Hoffmann's natural genius inclined him to this kind of composition; and his habits of life contributed to the morbid growth of imagination. At times he supported himself by the exertion of his talents as a musician, an artist, or a poet; and in the unsettled and shifting life he thus led, indulged freely in the use of wine and other stimulants. He confesses himself at times conscious of a slight touch of insanity; and says that the outpouring of the wild ideas that arise in his mind, may perhaps operate like blood-letting. He relates many incidents in his own experience, that show the unnatural state of excitement in which his imaginative faculties were continually kept, and the painful degree of intensity to which bis nerves were strung. This condition of mind and body was no doubt favorable to the wild, fantastic, eccentric cre

ations, which served as a safety-valve to his inflated fancy, though it prevented his obtaining the highest degree of reputation.

Some of the tales published in Hoffmann's "Serapiousbrüder"-a work including six volumes of separate storiesare of striking interest. Those are the best which have least of the marvellous or supernatural. "Cardillac" is one of these. In the days of Louis XIV., there is said to have existed an invisible band of robbers in Paris, who murdered persons at night and robbed them of their jewels. No trace could ever be found of the spoils, nor could all the efforts of the vigilant police, and the Chambre Ardente, discover the criminals. Argenson, minister of the police, petitions the king for the appointment of a new court, invested with still larger powers; Louis hesitates, but is determined to refuse by a witty remark of Mademoiselle de Scuderi. Soon after, a casket, containing a rich necklace and bracelets, is left, at midnight, at the door of that accomplished lady, in the name of the invisible band. In great distress, she repairs to her friend, Madame de Maintenon, and by her advice sends for the celebrated jeweller, Cardillac. He at once claims the ornaments, which he says were stolen from him, and are his own workmanship; but insists that Mademoiselle de Scuderi shall accept them, as a token of his respect and admiration for her virtues. Some months after, the lady's carriage is stopped at night, and a young man, pale and violently agitated, opens the door and throws a paper into her lap. It contains a mysterious warning against some unknown enemy, and beseeches her to return the necklace and bracelets on the following day to Cardillac. Scuderi's maid recognizes the young man, and declares him to be the same who brought the casket. Mademoiselle de Scuderi carries the jewels herself to Cardillac's house. She finds it in possession of the police, and surrounded by a crowd. Cardillac has been found murdered,-and his assistant, Brusson, has been arrested, not merely on suspicion of the murder of his master, but of being a member of the secret band of robbers. The lady with difficulty carries home, and retains under her protection, the daughter of Cardillac, who protests the innocence of Brusson, her lover. After a thorough investigation, and an interview with the prisoner, she becomes convinced of his innocence, and learns the whole truth. Brusson is the son of a young woman brought up by Mademoiselle de Scu

deri. He had been in the service of Cardillac, and had discovered, by a fatal accident, that his master alone was the perpetrator of those deeds of horror, with which all Paris had rung; and which had caused so much trouble to the police. Brusson's only crime was his not having denounced the murderer, and continuance in his service. This he has done out of a love for Madelon, which he could not overcome. Cardillac had confessed to him that he was the victim of monomania on the subject of jewels; and that he found it impossible to resist the impulse to rob and murder. It was by his order that Brusson had conveyed the casket to Mademoiselle de Scuderi, in the name of the band. The unfortunate young man hoped to obtain by this means an interview with the benefactress of his mother, to whom he resolved to apply for counsel and assistance. His warning had been given her, under the fearful certainty that the evil demon of Cardillac was working him up to murder her, to obtain possession of the casket again. Cardillac was on his way to her house, when he was struck down by an unknown hand, and carried home by Brusson, who followed him for the purpose of protecting Mademoiselle de Scuderi.

This story carries conviction to the mind of the lady, but it is insufficient to satisfy the Chambre Ardente. At last, however, a count and officer of the royal guard comes to Scuderi, and avows himself the slayer of Cardillac. His suspicions had been directed towards him as one of the secret band of robbers, and observing that all the victims were dispatched by a dagger-stroke through the heart, he had defended himself by a plate of steel. Cardillac fell upon him, and failing, received in return the count's dagger in his breast. The count had refrained from confession, at first, from dread of the inquisition of the Chambre Ardente; and because he believed Brusson the accomplice of his master. Mademoiselle de Scuderi lays the whole matter before the king. After many delays, a revolution is wrought in popular feeling, and the prisoner is set at liberty, on condition that he leaves Paris.

Such is the outline of this tale, which we esteem one of the best Hoffmann has written. Its moral effect lies in the contrast of dignified virtue in the person of Scuderi, and helpless innocence in that of Madelon and of her lover, with the most frightful guilt, and the cold professional cruelty of the ministers of justice. The sketch of the king also, and

that of Madame de Maintenon, though slight, are graphic and

true.

The novellen of Hauff, which are numerous, have met with much favor. Within a short time, a translation of one of them, "The Beggar Girl of Pont des Arts," has been published in New-York. It has much of the tenderness and pathos that distinguish this writer; and the first part is highly interesting; the denouement, however, is agreeable neither to morality nor good taste. After the touching and beautiful description of the beggar girl, we are only shocked at the painful detail of the brutalities of the man she is forced to marry. No moral effect is produced by such an exhibition; for we have not the contrast of angelic patience on her part; and the expression of her love for the man who had succored her in distress, and her abandonment of the catholic religion that she may obtain a divorce and marry him, outrage our sense of decorum. Anxious to make his story end happily, the author has neglected the lesson he might have taught, by the exhibition of a pure and noble soul in conflict with misery. In his tale of "The Jew Sutz," he has done better. Lea is an exquisite creation; her gentleness, ingenuousness, child-like dependence, and devoted affection, render more striking the virtuous magnanimity she displays in the hour of trial. Her brother, ambitions, selfish and designing, has but one pure feeling,-his affection for her, his desire to shield her from the sorrows and evils of the world. Hauff excels in the incident and plot of his stories; but is more remarkable for the delicacy and beauty of his female creations, and for his mastery in the pathetic. As a short specimen of this, we extract part of a scene from "The Jew Sutz," in which Lea is brought, by the sister of the young man whom she loves and who has loved her, to beg her brother's life at his hands. Political difficulties have separated them, and this interview is their last:

"It was a gloomy evening in October; the old advocate had been some days absent, and his son was engaged in a new examination, in the library, when his younger sister, now betrothed to Captain Reelzingen, entered, looking more serious than usual. She spoke at first upon indifferent matters; but seemed scarce able to restrain the tears, which at length glistened in her soft blue eyes, while she asked if her brother would be angry at her introducing an old acquaintance. The young man looked at her in surprise; but before he could answer, Katharine hastened from the apartment, and returned leading in a veiled lady. Before the light fell on her whole figure,-before

she raised her veil,-his throbbing heart told him who stood before him. The blood rushed to his temples,-he started up,-but she had already cast herself at his feet, and thrown back her veil. It was Lea. Those eyes once beloved, were tearfully and imploringly raised to his; her pale, thin hands, clasped together, were stretched towards him in supplication. 'Mercy she cried. 'Let him not die! They say he must die! His only hope is in you. Where shall I find words to touch your generous heart? to speak to you who once understood me so well?' Tears choked her utterance, and Katharine also wept. Full of surprise and grief, Gustave took her cold hand and raised her from her humble attitude. He gazed upon her;-how sad was that look! Her cheeks were pallid and attenuated; her eyes sunken; her mouth, that seemed formed but for smiles, had evidently long been a stranger to a smile. The dark hair was parted over her white forehead, and rendered more striking the death-like paleness of her

cheek.

'Lea! unhappy Lea!' cried the young man, "how long have you kept yourself concealed, and denied your friends the consolation of knowing that you wanted for nothing,-of knowing what they could do for you!'

'Ah! it is not for that, that I besought your noble-minded sister to bring me hither!' answered she, with a mournful smile. 'What do I need? Long since I buried all my dreams and my hopes; I have planted my remembrances as flowers on the grave, and water the flowers with my tears. No! you were ever kind to the unhappy ;— give me only the consolation of knowing that my brother shall not die! Ah! it is so bitter to die!-and what will his death profit this land?'

'Lea,' said Gustave embarrassed, 'I assure you, nothing has yet been said of death,-and I believe- -you must be cheeredthink the matter will not be carried so far.'

'It will-it will! But his fate lies in your hands!' faltered she. 'He told me when I spoke with him, 'if it were not for the letter-the letter may be my ruin.' Oh, Gustave! keep him years in prison,his life, if it must be! What mischief can he do in chains? But do not kill him! Gustave! be merciful! Forget the letter!-no one knows of it but yourself! With yonder waxen light you may save a man's life!'.

'Brother,' said Katharine, approaching and taking his hand,-'do it! Your conscience will never reproach you; for his power to work harm will be taken away. Burn the letter; it may appear that it has been lost.'

The young man cast a look on the weeping maidens ; feelings he could not vanquish, struggled in his bosom. For a single instant he wavered. Lea perceived his hesitation; she caught his hand, pressed it to her heart-to her lips. He will save him!' she exclaimed in transport; he is noble, and will not, like the rest, revenge his injuries on the fallen. He will not suffer him to die laden with sins, but give him life for repentance and amendment. Oh, gracious God! I thank thee that thou hast sent thine angel on this desolate earth, dispensing mercy with open hand, not smiting the sinner with the flaming sword of vengeance!'