been taken prifoner, by a neighbouring Prince, and he immediately prepares for his refcue. His fire-arms difconcerts the favages; he overcomes them, and redeems the unfortunate Monarch. Poison, however, had been administered to the captive; he dies, Adrian is proclaimed King, and a new code of Government is immediately established. Confidered as a mere novel, there is nothing particularly objectionable in the book; but when the author attempts to play the Legiflator, he is truly ridiculous. ART. XV. Memoires d'un Famille Emigrée. Memoires of an Emigrant Family. 3 Vols. 1798. THE 'HE principal characters in this novel are the Marchioness de Clairfans, an old lady, ridiculously vain of the honours of ancestry; her fon, Theodore, a young man of a jealous, hafty, and violent difpofition; Bazin, a villainous jacobin of the Robespierreian faction; and Alix, an orphan daughter of the fteward to the Clairfans eftate, educated and protected by the Marchioness. During the infant years of Theodore and Alix, an attachment is formed between them, which is oppofed by the Marchionefs; and, in due time, Bazin prefents himself as a lover to the fair orphan. A Madamoifelle de Valmire, a lady of rank and fortune; but in perfon, manners, and difpofition, the reverse of every thing that is amiable, is alfo brought forward as a mistress for Theodore. The lovers, true to their firft paffion, decline every overture; and after a multitude of adventures atchieved, and misfortunes incurred, during the perilous period of the revolution, urged by her confeffor, the Marchionefs, on her death-bed, yield confent to their union. Virtue is rewarded in the perfons of Theodore and Alix; and vice is punifhed in Bazen, who, on the fall of Robespierre, becomes a victim to the guillotine, to the death which he had plotted for his rival Theodore. We are informed, in the preface, that it is "the intention of the author, not to enter into any political difcuffion, nor to manifest any spirit of party." This intention is. adhered to; and whatever praise may be due to fuch abftinence he has an undoubted right to claim. But here praise must stop; for the fable is injudiciously conftructed; the characters are, most of them, ridiculous; the compofition is unequal, and in no refpect does the work foar above humble mediocrity. ART. XVI. Azalaïs et le Gentil Aimar, &c. Azalaïs and the Gentle Aimar; a Provencal Hiftory, tranflated from an ancient Provencal Manufcript. 3 Vols. 1798. HE following account of the original Provencal story, and of the fingular means by which it fell into the French tranflator's hands, is given in the advertisement prefixed to the work. "Towards the first months of 1792, I was in the foutherly part of France, whither family affairs had called me: I lived on the borders of the Herault at the foot of the mountains of Cevennes, in a little town near Montpellier. The agreeable and romantic fituation of my dwelling, and the natural beauty of the climate, rendered ftill more interesting by the approaches of fpring, engaged me in frequent walks. I loved to vifit thefe beloved haunts of the troubadours; I thought to hear the folitary echoes again repeat their artless fongs; and, when I climbed the fteep hills, my eyes extended, with delight, over the fertile foil of the ancient Occitanie. "That charming country, like the rest of France, was then abandoned to the troubles infeparable from great reyolutions. The peaple, abufing their power, had gone beyond the limits of true liberty. Armed with the fire-brands of vengeance, they had overrun the country, and woe to the caftles which retained any figns of feudality, or whose masters had irritated their implacability. "One day, in the course of my accustomed walks, I had been conducted to the foot of one of those ancient mansions; and, while confidering, with curiofity, the fingular fituation, and the gothic ftructure, I faw an immenfe crowd of people haftily approaching. The deftruction of the caftle, which I had been examining, was refolved on, and neither the intreaties nor the commands of the magiftrates could reftrain the rage of the populace. When the first efforts of rage were exhausted on the more brittle parts, it became a matter of debate to confign to the flames the remainder of the edifice. Already the flying fires embraced the roof, when fome one remarked, on the fide of one of the towers, a room eut in the rock, closed with a narrow iron door, and, confequently, inacceffible to the fire. People inftantly arrived to break it open, and they who entered, finding it was full of old papers, amufed themselves with throwing them from the window on the capricious rabble below. This fport feemed highly gratifying. Every one ran to catch those sheets, which were blown about by the wind, and fometimes even contended for the fhreds. Curiofity prompted me to approach; and, by chance, I met with fome manufcripts heavier than the reft, and thrown with more impetuofity. I immediately took them home for perufal. One of them, of confiderable bulk, bound in parchment, with double clafps of filver feemed deferving of more attention than the others. Its gothic writing, and the grotefque defigns which it contained, embarraffed me a little at firft but but after fome labour I overcame these obstacles, and fucceded in reading it with tolerable eafe. It amused me, and I resolved, from that time, to translate it into French. "Every thing led me to think, that the author of this romance, or history, (for it is doubtful whether it be the one or the other} though he gave to this work the title of Provencal History, was a native of Languedor; the idiom in which it is written is that which the peafanty ftill fpeak in the environs of Nimes. I wished to preferve, in my tranflation, the turn of style, and the interefting naiveté of the original; but, after several attempts, I found it impoffible. Either 1 poffels not the neceffary talent, or the French language, for want of diminutives, has not fufficient fimplicity to attain the delicacy of the Italians and ancient Provencals. "I have not, therefore, fervilely tranflated my author, but have followed my own proper ftyle; contenting myself with the prefervation of those tints which more ftrikingly difplay the manner of the original. "The Hiftory of Azalais, and of the gentle Aimar, feems to have been compofed about the clofe of the thirteenth century. I have confulted the hiftory of those times, and have found it nearly conformable in the principle events. If it be a romance, the anachroHilms in which the author has indulged himself are but trivial." It is now neceflary to say something concerning the construction of the story. Aimar, fon of the Baron de Caftellane, brought up in a convent, by a Monk, his father's friend, is folicited by the brotherhood to become a member, but refuses, and is expofed to their perfecution. He is delivered by a nobleman, fights for the caufe of the Albigenfes, and, after gaining feveral advantages, is wounded, and left among the dead on the field of battle. A Chevalier d'Anduze preferves and entrufts him to the care of his faithful fervant, Sylvefter, whofe brother is an upper domeftic in the caftle of the Forcalquier family.-Aimar, conveyed to the caftle as a dead man, is restored by the skilful attentions of the beautiful Azalais; and, in the true fpirit of chivalry, falls in love with his fair phyfician. Azalais, who is fifter to the Chevalier d'Anduze, and only a visitor in the castle, has a handfome maid, who loves the gentle Aimar, and whofe paffion is gratified by him, notwithstanding his previous engagement with Azalais. The lady difcovers her lover's infidelity; but he, at length, obtains forgivenefs. Another attack is made upon the conftancy of Aimar, by the lady of the caftle, who makes a declaration of her criminal paffion; but his heart is now entirely in the poffeffion of Azalais, and he reifts the temptation. The Countess of Forcalquier, defperately inflamed, breathes vengeance against the lovers, and joins Amalric Amalric (a noble warrior, to whom the hand of Azalais had been promifed) againft his rival, who had now quitted the caftle. Accompanied by the father and brother of Azalais, Amalric comes to the manfion of Forcalquier to claim the lady. Azalais, however, refifts his intreaties and escapes from the caftle, but is arrested on her flight, by fome ruffians, who force her to their abodes. Aimar, by a kind of miraculous chance, is shortly after conveyed to the fame place, and finds his beloved Azalais a prifoner. Here all is marvellous. Aimar, with the affiftance of a girl, who warns him of his danger, kills the leader of this lawless band, and efcapes with Azalais. In their retreat they come to the gates of a convent, but Azalais alone is permitted to enter, and her lover retires to a neighbouring fpot. In the mean time, Amalric, who is in pursuit of the handfome fugitive, arrives at the convent, and after much altercation it is determined that he fhall fight with Aimar for the poffeffion of Azalais. The day arrives, the combatants enter the lifts, the fierce Amalric is defeated, and with a defperate effort, attempts the murder of Azalais, who is spectator of the combat; but the blow deftined for her is received in the bofom of the penitent Alexide, the attendant of AzaJais, who had formerly been in love with Aimar. Amalric's death atones for his villainy, and the lovers are united. The diction of this romance is pure and elegant; the imagery is beautiful; and the little flowers of poetry, which are fcattered throughout, increase its value. A fomewhat too large portion of the marvellous is almoft the only defect in the performance. GERMAN LITERATURE. Tranflated into German, and addressed to Mr. BOETTIGER, to be in◄ ferted in WIELAND'S NEW GERMAN MERCURY. SIR, Belvedere, June 1800. I HAVE been again prevented from fending you, fo foon as I intended, fome obfervations, to be inferted in the New German Mercury, refpecting Mr. Robifon, of Edinburgh, &c. You have received my remarks on this fubject in so candid a manner, and so readily offered to publish a vindication of a most respectable character, as induces me, moft readily, to grant that you had no intention of being unjuft, and that you were led into error by false information. If there are, in Mr. Robifon's book, on the Illumi. nati, fome erroneous statements and fome unjust conclufions, (which mean not to difpute) it is greatly to be regretted, that fome Ger man, poffeffed of the neceffary information and leisure; did not take up the pen to correct his errors in a calm and manly manner, Τα To me fuch a conduct, as it is most natural, feems the beft calcu lated to ferve the interests of truth. But it would appear that the German Literati look upon this gentleman as totally unworthy of their notice, as a fycophant, an enthufiaft, and almoft a fool. I will venture, however, to affert, without meaning to detract from just merit, or to wound the felf-love of the Literati of this country, that the ableft man in Germany will find, in Mr. Robison, an opponent equally able and honourable; an antagonist of whom he will have no reason to be ashamed. I will even dare to add, that the candid perufal of his book, on the Illuminati, (granting that there are in it many errors) will evidently prove this to any man poffetfed of any juft notions of civil liberty, as diftinguished from the ruinous principles of anarchy. Mr. Robifon's abilities, as a mathematician and natural philofopher, have been long known to be of the very first rate; and though by bad health he was prevented, for several years, from performing his duty, as profeffor in the University of Edinburgh, they are moft grofsly deceived, who have concluded, from thence, that his mind has in confequence been equally deranged. On this head, I refer to the laft fix volumes of the Encyclopedia Britannica (a work which has had an inimenfe fale in Britain and America) where the ampleft and moft unequivocal proofs will be found of abilities of no common kind. The numerous, extensive, and interefting articles to which I now refer, are indicated in the preface to that work, and were compofed (I fpeak from perfonal knowledge) when the profeffor laboured under the moft excruciating pain, when he had but few and fhort intervals of ease, and when the time allotted him would have been reckoned fcanty, even if he had been in perfect health. From a reference to the articles in queftion, it will not be difficult to discover that they are the labours of a mind of the deepest erudition, and of the most compre→ henfive views. Nor is his knowledge, as often happens with mathematicians, confined to mathematics and natural philofophy; in politics, in morals, and in metaphyfics, his knowledge is confidered as deep, extenfive, and liberal, by fome of the best heads in Great Britain. As he has travelled through a great part of Europe; as he has vifited even-America, and is intimately acquainted with the manners and languages of feveral different nations, he is not one of thofe narrow-minded philofophers who can fee nothing valuable but in their own country, or in their own fect. I have myself heard him, on this fubject, give the moft liberal and interefting inftructions how to avoid exhibiting, in a foreign country, the narrow partialities of our own; how best to profit by a view of foreign manners, and in what light a true philofopher ought to look on the variety of manners, cuftoms, and modes of thinking in the various nations which he vifits. In fhort, at the fame time that he is firmly oppofed to the anarchic principles which have rendered France the terror of Europe, and to the dafhing philofophy which has fo much contributed to extend their influence, I know not, nor can I conceive a more liberal or a more enlightened man; one more independent in his principles, or more ardent in his |