for all the shawls and lustres of his wife. She was unfaithful to him, but even that did not enable her to live. They were both at length sent to Bridewell, and now they can live."

Many other pieces, though they would furnish us more favourable specimens, are too long to be quoted ;and these may, probably, suffice to give the reader an idea of the writings of Moser. Although there is something in their homeliness and bonhommie which appears peculiarly German, yet there may be traced in most of them a partiality to our authors, and very often imitations of them. Some of the pieces are, indeed, translations from our essayists. We will not argue the question, which of all the nations of Europe has had the most influence on modern literature; but every Briton may be delighted to see his countrymen leading the way in almost every branch of useful knowledge. It was the fate of the Greeks, while living, but conquered, to give laws to the taste of Rome. Rome herself had disappeared as an empire before her productions were adopted by admiring posterity. Italy and France have, in their turn, enjoyed the honour of being imitated by less cultivated nations; but, at present, it seems as if Britain is the instructress of the world in the art of writing as well as of governing. Even France has not disdained to borrow from us. Nearly all the additions she has made to her tragic drama, in modern times, have been taken from Shakespeare, though his spreading natural oaks have been clipped like a garden yew to fit them to the French stage. The influence of our national productions is, perhaps, more conspicuous in modern German literature than in any other; and, extending over the world, ought to be more gratifying to the self-love of Britons than the most splendid triumph of our arms. A history of our wars may soothe our pride, but it must ever excite mingled sensations of regret and exultation: but a history of the influence we have exerted on the mind of Europe would pour on the reader one unmingled stream of satisfaction.

Moser is distinguished for a great deal of patient research-for an acute lively manner of setting forth his opinions, and a plain fearlessness in expressing them-which, at the time he

wrote, were little known to his countrymen. His style is clear, animated, and unencumbered, rich in Germanisms, and quite free from that affected etymological purity of phraseology which distinguishes the writings of living German authors, and renders them difficult to be understood by those who acquired the German language a quarter of a century ago. We are of those who think the Germans do not improve in prose writing.When we turn back to the plain and energetic style of the period at which Moser lived, and compare it with the crazy, involuted writings of the present day, we grieve to think that they are constantly straying still further from that beautiful simplicity which is the crown of good writing. Moser had not a lofty, but an equal and comprehensive mind. He made no discoveries, and invented no hypotheses; but contented himself with enforcing known truths. His course was steady and equal, shedding a pure and brilliant light till his death. He laboured-as, perhaps, all wise men ought

to dispense instruction to his immediate neighbours, convinced, apparently, that those precepts are most effectual which are supported by example. He wrote more for his countrymen than for the world, which, perhaps, is the reason why his fame has scarcely extended beyond Germany. He effected no revolution in what is miscalled philosophy, because he never advocated any absurd theory. He founded no sect, and excited no parties to a war of words, by sounding any of the numerous trumpets of mysticism; but he enlarged the knowledge and the enjoyments of his grateful countrymen. If we may judge from the reputation which some of his contemporaries-the authors of useless theories have acquired, it would have been wise in Moser, had he been desirous of fame, to have propagated some new system. the world-or, at least, for the learn ed world, which bestows literary honour-such doctrines have a greater charm than the rational and useful writings of Moser. Abounding in good sense, and quite free from that affectation of French phrases which may be observed in the comedies of Iffland, and in the writings of other contemporaries of Moser; and free also from that affectation of purity,

For

which, never allowing a modern author to use a word not etymologically German, has created a new language, the writings of Moser may be safely recommended to students of the German as fair models of style, and as containing nothing to corrupt the heart, seduce the fancy, or mystify the understanding.

THE MAREMMA, A TALE.

THE following little Tale, written some time ago, was intended to have been enlarged by the introduction of other characters and incidents, and afterwards published separately; but a poem on the same subject, by a writer of considerable celebrity, having recently made its appearance, the Author of the "Maremma" has, in consequence, given up the idea of its publication in any other mode than the present.

"THE history of Desdemona has a parallel in the following passage of Dante. Nello Della Pietra had espoused a lady of noble family at Sienna, named Madonna Pia. Her beauty was the admiration of Tuscany, and excited in the heart of her husband a jealousy, which, exasperated by false reports and groundless suspicions, at length drove him to the desperate resolu tion of Othello. It is difficult to decide whether the lady was quite innocent, but so Dante represents her. Her husband brought her into the Maremma, which, then as now, was a district destructive to health. He never told his unfortunate wife the reason of her banishment to so dangerous a country. He did not deign to utter complaint or accusation. He lived with her alone, in cold silence, without answering her questions, or listening to her remonstrances. He patiently waited till the pestilential air should destroy the health of this young lady. In a few months she died. Some chroniclers, indeed, tell us, that Nello used the dagger to hasten her death. It is certain that he survived her, plunged in sadness and perpetual silence. Dante had, in this incident, all the materials of an ample and very poetical narra

tive. But he bestows on it only four verses. He meets in Purgatory three spirits; one was a captain, who fell fighting on the same side with him in the battle of Campaldino; the second, a gentleman assassinated by the treachery of the House of Este; the third was a woman unknown to the poet, and who, after the others had spoken, turned towards him with these words:

Seems with some deep mysterious cloud o'ercast.

-Have jealous doubts transformed to wrath and hate,

surpassed?

Lo! on Pietra's brow a sullen gloom Is gathering day by day, prophetic of her doom.

Oh! can he meet that eye, of light serene, Whence the pure spirit looks in radiance forth,

And view that bright intelligence of mien, Formed to express but thoughts of loftiest worth,

Yet deem that vice within that heart can reign?

-How shall he e'er confide in aught on

earth again?

In silence oft, with strange, vindictive gaze, Transient, yet filled with meaning stern and wild,

Her features, calm in beauty, he surveys, Then turns away, and fixes on her child So dark a glance, as thrills a mother's mind

With some vague fear, scarce owned, and undefined.

There stands a lonely dwelling, by the

wave

Of the blue deep which bathes Italia's shore,

Far from all sounds, but rippling seas, that lave

Grey rocks, with foliage richly shadowed o'er ;

It is the summer's glorious prime-and blending

Its blue transparence with the skies, the deep,

Each tint of Heaven upon its breast descending,

Scarce murmurs as it heaves, in glassy sleep,

And on its wave reflects, more softly bright,

That lovely shore of solitude and light.

Fragrance in each warm southern gale is breathing,

Decked with young flowers the rich Maremma glows,

Neglected vines the trees are wildly wreathing,

And the fresh myrtle in exuberance blows, And far around, a deep and sunny bloom Mantles the scene, as garlands robe the tomb.