requisites of this kind of writing in a considerable, though none perhaps in a very high, degree. They are always interesting and amusing, and, except in the particulars above mentioned, completely unexceptionable.

From our own country, we may now cast our eyes for a moment towards Germany. That country, long distinguished for heavy industry, and productive only of literary drudges, has of late exerted an extraordinary activity in every direction. Works of imagination have been produced in great profusion, and have excited, in a consider able degree, the admiration of all Europe. Nor is this admiration altogether unmerited; though they are by no means correct, either in point of taste or morals. In general, they display force and wildness of genius; a deep · tincture of ferocity; a disposition to trample upon established opinions, and to carry every sentiment to the utmost possible degree of extravagance and excess. Their morality is of a very extraordinary nature.

We have already had occasion to observe the dangerous effect of great faults appearing in a character which, on the whole, commands admiration. This, though extremely common, takes place elsewhere through mere accident or inclination. Here it is done systematically. Some virtue is drawn in the most interesting and attractive form, with the express view of recommending a vice, or even a crime, with which it is united in the same character. This, perhaps, often arises less from any criminal design of perverting the public morals, than from that undistinguishing rage for novelty, which actuates every department of German literature.

Al

The most eminent in this style of writing are, Schiller, Gothé, and Kotzebue. though all the three have written novels, yet their reputation rests almost entirely on their dramatic performances. We must except the Werter of Gothé, which, for reasons that will appear hereafter, I do not mean at present to notice.

The best of the German novelists is La

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Fontaine. He is certainly an interesting writer. With considerable knowledge of human nature, he unites strong pathetic powers. These appear particularly in Clara Duplessis, the best of his performances which I have read. There occurs often, however, a mixture of the serious and ludicrous, in the same character, which is rather unpleasant. We do not relish seeing ridicule thrown on those whom we have viewed with admiration; nor those, at whom we have been laughing, on a sudden converted into heroes. Neither does he always keep free of extravagance and affectation. His works discover, in general, an amiable turn of mind, and seem to be written with very good intentions. It is only to be regretted that he should have adopted, in common with most of his countrymen, that mode of thinking which represents virtue as the companion of ignorance and rudeness; an opinion, by no means well founded; and the -prevalence of which has of late been attended with very hurtful effects.

The works on which observations have now been made, are all reducible, more or less, to the three descriptions formerly enumerated. There are other species, however, which, though they could not with propriety be introduced then, are not to be passed over entirely. The principal may be comprehended under the four heads of Ludicrous, Descriptive, Allegorical, and Sentimental.

LUDICROUS.-DON QUIXOTE.

The taste for ridicule is a very general one, and implanted in our nature, no doubt, for wise purposes. It does not, indeed, seem very properly employed against vice, or against errors of reasoning on important subjects. Its use is to guard against those little follies and improprieties, which, without being criminal, tend to render the character less respectable and agreeable. Fictions, which aim at the representation of manners, generally exhibit their characters in a ludicrous point of view. This, though it render

them more amusing, lessens their value as just pictures of life. But there are works in which ridicule is the sole and ultimate object. These, however, are chiefly dramatic. I know only of one very eminent narrative fiction which comes under this description. This, the reader, it is probable, will immediately conjecture to be that of Don Quixote.

Chivalry, as we have seen, was, in itself, a beneficent institution, and a step towards the civilization of modern Europe. As soon, however, as the sovereign, on the one hand, and the people on the other, acquired an influence superior to that of the nobles, and found it for their mutual interest to establish a regular administration of justice, the operation of this principle became no longer necessary. It had come, in process of time, to be very much abused. The people often suffered more from their defenders than from those against whom they had taken arms. The improving reason, too, of the age, began to revolt against the multitude of incredible tales with which its records were