nage the oar with the other.-The effort is too great, and the child slips from her arm into the water; the oar floats one way, while the boat is carried another, into the middle of the lake, where it remains stationary. Here Ottilia sits, in mute despair at the impossibility of getting immediate relief for the dying child, which lies senseless in her arms, and which she endeavours by every means that her memory can suggest, to restore to life, but fruitlessly. This scene of horror is well described, and as it is managed with the hand of a master, conveys a dreadful picture to the imagination;-in order to do justice to it, we will give it in the original German.

Die Sonne war untergegangen, und es dæmmerte schon und düftete feucht um den see. Ottilie stand verwirrt und bewegt; sie sah nach dem berghause hinüber und glaubte Charlottens weisses kleid auf dem altan zu sehen. Der umweg war gross am See hin; sie kannte Charlottens ungeduldig harren nach dem kinde. Die platanen sieht sie gegen sich über, nur ein wasserraum trennt sie von dem pfade, der sogleich zu dem gebæude hinaufführt. Mit gedanken ist sie schon drüben, wie mit den augen. Die bedenklichkeit, mit dem kinde sich aufs wasser zu wagen, verschwindet in diesem Drange. Sie eilt nach dem Kahn, sie fühlt nicht das ihr Herz pocht, das ihre Füsse schwanken, das ihr die sinne zu vergehen drohn.

Sie springt in den Kahn, ergreift das Ruder und Stoset ab. Sie muss Gewalt brauchen, sie wiederholt den Stoss, der kahn schwankt und gleitet eine strecke seewærts. Auf dem linken arme das Kind, in der linken hand das Buch, in der rechten das Ruder, schwankt auch sie und fællt in den kahn. Das ruder entfahrt ihr, nach der einen seite, und wie sie sich erhalten will, kind und buch, nach der andern, alles ins wasser. Sie ergreift noch des kindes gewand; aber ihre unbequeme lage hindert sie selbst am aufstehen. Die freye rechte hand ist nicht hinreichend sich umzuwenden, sich aufzurichten; endlich gelingt's, sie zieht das kind aus dem wasser, aber seine augen sind geschlossen, es hat aufgehört zu athmen.

In dem augenblicke kehrt ihre ganze Besonnenheit zurück, aber um desto græsser ist ihr Schmerz. Der Kahn treibt fast in der mitte des sees, das ruder. Schwimmt fern, sie erblickt niemanden am Ufer und auch was hætte es ihr geholfen, jemanden zu sehen! Von allen abgesondert schwebt sie aufdem treulosen unzugänglichen elemente.

Sie sucht Hülfe bey sich selbst. So oft hatte sie von Rettung der ertrunkenen gehoert. Noch am abend ihres geburtstage

hatte sie es erlebt. Sie entkleidet das kind, und trocknet's mit ihrem Musselingewand. Sie reisst ihren Busen auf and regt ihn zum erstenmal den freyem Himmel; zum erstenmal drückt sie ein lebendiges an ihre reine nackte Brust, ach! und kein lebendiges. Die kalten Glieder des unglüklichen Geschepfs verkælten ihren busen bis ins innerste des Herzens. Unendliche thrænen entquellen ihren Augen und ertheilen der oberfläche des erstarrten einen schein von wærme und Leben. Sie lasst nicht nach, sie überhüllt es mit ihrem schawb, und durch sheicheln, und rücken, anhauchen, küssen, thrænen glaubt sie jenes hülfsmittel zu ersetzen, die ihr in dieser Abgeschnittenheit versagt sind.

Alles vergebens! ohne Bewegung liegt das Kind in ihren Armen, ohne Bewegung steht der Kahn auf der wasserfleche; aber auch hier læsst ihr schones Gemüth sie nicht hülflos. Sie wendet sich nach oben. Knieend sinkt sie in dem kahne nieder und hebt das erstarrte kind mit beyden armen über ihre unschuldige Brust, die an weisse und leider auch an kælte den marmor gleicht. Mit feuchtem blück sieht sie empor und ruft hülfe von daher, wo ein zartes herz die grosse fülle zu finden hoffte, wenn es überall mangelt.

Auch wendet sie sich nicht vergebens zu den Sternen, die schon einzeln hervorzublicken anfangen. Ein sanfter wind erhebt sich und treibt den kahn nach den platanen.

Surgical aid is however procured in vain, and nothing can restore the child. The major, whose projected interview with Charlotte, had not taken place in the morning, finds her in the evening watching the corpse of her infant, and supporting Ottilia, who lies in a trance by her side. The awfulness of this scene, does not however, prevent him before his departure in the morning, from expatiating on Edward's romantic plan, does not prevent Charlotte, although she is in the act of watching her lifeless infant, from listening with some degree of pleasure to a scheme destined to sever her from its father; and giving in some degree her acquiescence.-This may be the force of fate, but it is not nature,-and indeed we think this weakness might have been spared Charlotte, who throughout the work, had been represented as acting a very prudent and upright part. But Ottilia who is soon after restored to her senses, persists in rejecting this plan, which it seems she could overhear, although she was bereft at the time of all sense of motion. She considers this series of misfortunes as a judgment from heaven, and determines to leave the castle. Ed

ward by chance meets her at an inn, and conducts her home again. She then takes the singular determination of never speaking again, and of starving herself; which she effects. The funeral scene is well described. Edward dies of a broken heart, and we are left to hope, that the major and Charlotte do not also experience this dreadful catastrophe.

We have not noticed a character which is not very new, and performs we think, a useless part throughout the novel. He is introduced under the name of " Mittler," literally “mediator," whose only occupation is to make up the differences in the neighbouring families. Such a character could only be comic or unimportant. It is not meant as the former, because it would have interrupted the general harmony of a sentimental novel.

We have also omitted to speak of two other interlopers, or episodical personages; the one a teacher of young girls, who falls in love with Ottilia, at her boarding school; the other an architect, who is scarcely less favourably disposed towards her. The author appears to have introduced them, as machinery for the erudite part of his poetical novel. The tutor makes learned remarks on the character of the sex, and descants scientifically on education. The architect does still more; he builds; he paints; he decorates; he instructs us solemnly, that when an amateur shows us a collection of engravings or original drawings, we must hold each leaf carefully, with both hands, lest the paper should be rumpled or break.—The major on his side, proves himself no less skilled in the art of English gardening, and the embellishment of rural scenery.— He and Edward are acquainted with all the modern discoveries in chemistry, and pronounce, in effect, a very fine dissertation upon chemistry, without which it would be impossible to comprehend the title of the novel. The author is so desirous of displaying his scientific acquirements, that he makes his heroine repeat, (with the most perfect success) the experiments of Ritter on the oscillations of the pendulum.

There exists throughout the work, a vein of superstition which we are, perhaps, authorized to trace, to the author's private creed on that subject. The superstitions to which we here allude, are not such striking instances as would appear to have been selected from the popular belief, in order to add to the interest of the story, by the mystery of supernatural agency, but such quiet incidental ones as could only have been created in the breast of a person of nice observation and poetic imagination; who has fancied a relation between some accidental occurrence, and the events of a life devoted to meditation.

We think we have observed this in the works of several persons of vivid imagination, and to consider it in this light, gives an interest to that which would otherwise appear frivolous. Of the same nature is the recurrence of the light cloud, that partially obscures the moon, in the novel of Corinna, and which she imagines to be the forerunner or concomitant of every misfortune of her life;-it becomes at the close of the tale a fine accessory in the well executed picture, of the dying moments of the heroine.

The man who is more occupied with the common concerns of life, than a person as abstracted as a literary character can be, knows the fallacy of these signs, and laughs at them, without perhaps being aware, that the want of the prejudice, deprives him of pleasures of the sublimest nature.

That a man of a contemplative cast of mind, should believe in the return and presence of departed friends, or multiply in any way the chain of invisible agencies, (superstitions which if they do not make him a greater, will probably make him a better man) is very excusable; and that he should make them the ground work of a novel, or introduce them incidentally is equally so. That these superstitions are not able to stand the test of ridicule, is by no means a proof of their wanting interest. For example, the incantations of the witches in Macbeth, if read in the closet, or considered in detail, appear to be a series of such absurdities, as could only proceed from a disordered brain; and yet I think few persons of imagination have seen the tragedy performed, without being moved by the mystery, which prevails in the midnight meetings, of these wizards of the air.

With all our inclination however, to approve of the introduction of these accessories in fictions, we own we could not help smiling at several of those which are made use of in the volumes before us; for instance, at Edward's impression, (nay firm conviction) that his fate was eternally allied to that of Ottilia, merely because a glass, on which the initials of their names were inscribed, fell to the ground without being broken, after being thrown up in the air. This and several other puerilities are only to be tolerated on the ground we have taken; that is, a supposition of the influence of private feeling.

Not so however, the general belief in fatality which reigns throughout the work, and the general oblivion of every thing like a consolation derived from religious motives. If the author has grown old in the persuasion of the one, and with the want of the other, we sincerely pity him. We do not recol

lect to have experienced in the perusal of any fiction, a deeper impression of sadness, than throughout the one before us. A reader is for the moment, whatever an eloquent author chooses to make him. It is only when he has laid down the volume, and his mind is released from the fine spun web of eloquence, that he returns to his original rectitude of thought, and scans the imperfections of his author's theory. Let the predestinarian read this novel, and see what becoms of four amiable persons, merely because they surrender themselves without an effort, to what they imagine to be the inevitable decrees of fate.

We believe that there are very many middle aged men, who after having passed like Edward through the bloom of youth with an amiable wife, would be afterwards tempted to neglect her somewhat faded charms, in order to fall in love with any pretty niece whom she might introduce into their house. We believe that there are many wives who would exchange what they suppose to be the monotonous society of middle aged husbands, for that of a young officer having the attraction of novelty. But we also believe, that all this, instead of proving the force of fate, would be merely the result of disordinate passions; while on the contrary, a due submission to the laws of society and of God, a proper sense of right and wrong, and a religious determination to pursue the one and avoid the other, will effectually combat what many please to call the irresistible decrees of destiny, and will lead the christian gently through the path of life, instead of inducing him to err, in following blindly the impulse of his passions;-by finding an excuse for weakness in fatality.

Before we bid adieu to Goëthe and his novel, we should say something of the general character of the work, and of his leading merits as a writer.-From the outline which we have already given of the "Elective Affinities," our readers will perceive that it is replete with incongruities, with extravagant conceptions, and the most improbable incidents. The episodes, digressions and dissertations, form the most considerable part of the volumes, and have no immediate connexion with the principal story. It is said to be the secret of the German compositions of this kind, that they should be in every sense poetical; that the author should gratify you with an epopee full of episodes and rich in the marvellous, under the modest title of a novel. They are at the same time made a vehicle to exhibit his learning on all topics of cotemporary science.

Such seems to have been the plan of Goëthe in this instance. Some of his superstitions are even more gross than those we