he was able to assure them, with a voice weak and tremulous, that he was recovering. "Heaven is our home," said Marianne, "there shall we experience that plenitude of bliss we fondly, vainly looked for here." It was pleasing to hear the touching tones of her melodious voice, thus breathing the spirit of religious consolation at a moment like this: it had the desired effect,-he ceased repining, and whispered, (it was all he could,)" Yes, there is a Providence that rules and directs all for the best, and to his benevolent protection I can safely commit the dearest and most valued of earthly beings:-the taper of life waxes short,—I am faint and feeble; give me your hand." He pressed it to his lips, then to his heart. "Mother, your's too." Having done the same with it, he placed them in each other, and said, "My mother-my Marianne; one of you is about to be childless, the other loveless: be a daughter, be a mother, to each other; and when all around is cheerless and unpromising, and I am no more, think of futurity, of me, of heaven-where we shall all be united to part no more. I have a blessing for you, but it will die in my His voice faltered, his lip quivered, his eye rolled carelessly round: the last spark of life seemed nearly extinguished. After a short struggle he appeared more composed, but grew gradually weaker and weaker. The convulsive clasp of his hand was still the same; Marianne pressed it to her lips, and looked upwards, as if, in spirit, to implore heaven to spare him yet a little. His fading eyes were fixed on her; she again placed his hand to her lips, and wept: he looked his gratitude, and closed

his eyes,-opened them, closed them again, heaved a gentle sigh, and then, with a faint smile on his countenance, breathed his last.

J. R. W. European Magazine.

THE CLASSICS AND ROMANTICS.

SINCE the celebrated dispute of Perrault, no subject has been discussed with more earnestness among the French literati, than that at present pending in respect to the relative merits of the classic and romantic schools, or, to be more explicit, respecting the superiority of the style of the age of Louis XIV. which has been denominated the "Classic School" on the one hand; and the followers of a free national style, unshackled by the laws of the ancients, on the other, distinguished by the appellation of "Romantic." In this war of words, the combatants have called to their aid every auxiliary power, and it may not be amiss to give the reader an idea of a contest which will, in the end, produce an important change, for the better, in the literature of the nation. The despotism of the academy, once so perfect, had frequently of late years received severe shocks upon isolated questions, and the revolution inflicted upon its sovereignty, a blow which it was impossible for it to survive. Its use to the Bourbon government, as an instrument of influence on the literature of the country, has now nearly become inert, not by the conversion of the academy to the

side of truth and nature, but by the rising of a regenerated school of literature, more in harmony with modern civilization and congenial to the national feeling, as is the case in England. The wild and extravagant school of Hardy, was supplanted by the genius of Corneille, modelled upon the ancients, and Racine eclipsed Corneille in the opinion of his countrymen, by the introduction of what may be called, the court style of Louis XIV. Every thing was confined to a servile imitation of the ancients, and so far had the style of Racine, backed by the influence of the court, established itself as the model for French tragic writers to follow, that Corneille himself was thrown into the shade in the opinion of most, by the ultra refinements of his successor, or rather cotemporary. The French academy adopted the taste of the court. By so doing, it confined tragedy within very narrow limits, both as respected language and subject; for the natural, it substituted the artificial, excluded national subjects, almost wholly, for foreign, and hampered, by fastidiousness and caprice, the range of genius which, regulated by good sense, should ever be a ❝chartered libertine."

But there were other reasons than those connected with literature which made the example of Racine, and what is since called in France, the "classic school,"* more agreeable to the Bourbon despotism

For fear it should be supposed that by the epithet " Classic School," censure is meant upon the unrivalled legacies of the ancients, it is proper to observe, that the term is here applied to their servile imitators only, who follow them in every thing, without regard to the

and its ministers. By confining the labours of literature, particularly those of the theatre, as nearly as possible to an imitation of the ancients, national topics were avoided; and by this compression of subject, national allusions, which might sometimes be disagreeable to an absolute government, were spared to the public ear. Tragedy exhibited Grecian and Roman manners, and Roman and Grecian heroes; and the French audience were diverted by scenes of antiquity, from contemplating those that had passed in their own country. The Richlieus and Mazarines, were men of powerful minds, wary, arbitrary, and unprincipled; and it is not giving them credit for too much penetration, to suppose they saw the advantage of patronizing this school in preference to any new-fangled theory that might offer. They knew that the school of monks and colleges had preserved, from time immemorial, the wrecks of ancient learning, but that ancient learning had no way, in their hands, been an instrument of opposition to the powers that were. In patronizing a school of literature that merely imitated the ancients, they neither endangered power, nor tempted the public to the discussion of novel doctrines and a search after truth. It is curious that the "classic school," as it is termed, has every where been the child of arbi

difference of mythology, nationality, civilization, or language. These imitators can appreciate nothing since the downfall of the Roman empire. They would establish one literature for all nations, and depress the manly freedom of the minds of men of genins, to one insipid level. The beauties of the ancient writers are as much esteemed by the disciples of the "romantic" as of the self-styled "classic school," perhaps, better.

trary power; the "romantic" of patriotism and liberty. The French are beginning now to feel this, as the English and Germans have long felt before them. They have discovered that the test of literary merit is public opinion alone, and that a strict adherence to rules cannot command success. The academy, both at its commencement and long afterwards, by uniting in the interests of the crown, the majority of men of talents in the nation, held the lesser fry of writers in vassalage. The influence of the members of the academy had diminished, when the revolution commenced; yet, even then, few thought of disputing its former decrees, particularly in poetry-there Aristotle and the ancients remained absolute, though in other studies innovations had stolen in, after Locke had made a breach in the metaphysical dogmas of the stagyrite.

Upon a proper consideration of the subject, it appears an absurdity, that forty individuals, most of whom were collected by court favour, should be chosen to fix the literature of a nation, lay down laws which future writers were not to infringe upon, and forbid the toleration of works which did not, in their view, possess particular requisites. To bridle genius in its multiform, was an attempt worthy the instruments and vanity of the Bourbon dynasty, calculated to do irretrievable injury to the cause it professed to support, and to be only of temporary duration. The academy was the tool of the minister, and literature was held back and enchained by the academy. This must ever be the case with literary associations under absolute governments. The empire