the purest idiom of the Italian language, without a single harsh combination of words, without one illegitimate or vulgar phrase, all sonorous words, melodiously tuned periods; but of matter, thought, or energetic sentiment, not a shadow. It is pretty generally acknowledged, that the greater part of our most original and respectable authors are not natives of the Electorate of Saxony. Of these I shall only mention a few, just as they occur to my mind:-Moeser, Wieland, Gessner, Mendelsohn, Spalding, Jerusalem, Lessing (who uses so many of the idioms of the Low German dialect, that he seems voluntarily to have renounced his native country), Klopstock, Ramler, Schloetzer, Sturtz, Goethe, Lavater, Herder, Buerger, Goekingk, Claudius, &c. &c. I freely admit; (a concession which, by the by, my antagonist has no right to demand of me) that all these writers may have committed faults against the purity of the High German dialect; but we are now discussing the third part of the argument: namely, that of taste and literature. I, therefore, ask, have the Upper Saxons (who, I admit, write with greater purity) produced any thing during the period in which those inen wrote, that can bear a comparison with their compositions? have not the works of these authors advanced the taste of the Germans to a point of elevation, which, with no other models for imitation than those of the Upper Saxons, it never would have attained? and shall not a youth, who wishes to form his taste, besides the authors of an earlier date, such as Hagedorn, Haller, Gleim, Kleist, Utz, &c. (for I do not even mention Opitz and Logau) of whom several were not Upper Saxons, study the numerous beauties that are to be found in the writings of those men, merely because, as in all human productions, they are mixed with an alloy of less valuable materials, because, as is probably incident to every original genius, some too bold deviations from the common track, some effusions of a too petulant wit, or unbridled fancy, form exceptions to their general excellence? or, finally, shall he adopt, as a standard for appreciating the performances of others, and regulating his own taste, only those works that have been composed by Upper Saxon authors, during the period from the year 1740 to 1760? This would be voluntarily submitting to all the disadvantages of an inviolable code and an over ruling metropolis.

The point in question may, therefore, I think, be expressed in more general terms, thus: Is that province, which may be considered as our Attica, with respect to language, now, and for ever, to remain our Attica, with respect to literature and taste? My friend Gedike was, as far as I know, D

VOL. II.

the

the first who compared the Upper Saxon dialect with the Attic; it may, therefore, seem strange, that this magazine, * of all others, should stand up in opposition to the asserted Atticism of Upper Saxony. But the statement of the question, as I have just given it, will, in my opinion, reconcile this seeming contradiction between me and my friend. Is it not possible, that that province, in which our language is spoken with the greatest purity and the most pleasing accent, should have wanted for opportunities of displaying an equal superiority in all other particulars? Is it not probable, that Saxony's Augustan age may have been but of very short duration, perhaps, not more than twenty years? As to the innovations which Mr. Adelung censures the provinces for introducing, I shall only observe, that Athens, though it might have been the standard of language, would scarcely have become that of taste and literature, had it not possessed an Aristophanes, who compounded such sesquipedalia verba, as Beixixixixoxo, and introduced them on the stage, and, in general, took such liberties with the language as Mr. Adelung finds fault with Lessing for having taken. The Athenians invented new metre, and thought it no presumption, even in a native of a province more famed for its breed of cattle than for the genius of its inhabitants, I mean the Bocorian Pindar, that he introduced into lyric poetry a new construction of the stanza of his own invention. But Klopstock and Ramler are not to be allowed the same liberty, even though the metres they have used be never so well adapted to the idea, the spirit of the poem, and the expres sion of the poet's feelings. But how could I enumerate all that is captivating, sublime, and beautiful in composition, which we have not derived from the imitation of Upper Saxon models, but which we enjoy with equal pleasure and profit in the works of our provincial writers. It is fortunate for us, that these men have asserted the inherent prerogative of genius to be original, and have acknowledged no arbitrary veto in matters of science and taste.

In order, therefore, to remove my objections, in which I believe many of my readers will coincide with me, Mr. Adelung ought, I think, to prove

1. That, with respect to pronunciation, not the most approved orthography of our best authors, but the usage of the Upper Saxons of the present day, must be our model.

2. That, with respect to language, not our classical authors,

Gedike is one of the editors of the Berlin Magazine, from which thes

essay is taken.

with the assistance of the grammar and dictionary published by Mr. Adelung (himself no Upper Saxon), but the dialect of the present Upper Saxons should be the standard for all Germany.

3. That, with regard to the whole circle of polite literature and taste, not the study of the ancients, nor the spirit of observation, founded upon a knowledge of the human heart, nor yet the inventive powers of genius itself, but the writers of Upper Saxony, short as has been the duration of the flourishing period of literature in that country, and scanty as the leisure, opportunities, and incentives may have been for its literati to try their powers upon all subjects, to improve their talents into excellence, and display original invention, should be our rule and guide; and that, in judging of what may be considered as an unlicensed innovation in writers of other provinces, we have only to enquire, whether or not it be supported by the authority of any writer of that privileged nation.

JULIA.

KARAMSIN'S RUSSIAN TALE.

THE HE women complain of the men, and the men complain of the women. Which is right? or which is wrong? and who shall decide the contest?-Were the decision left to me, without consideration, I should give it in favor of the most amiable-consequently the women.-But with this sentence the men would not be contented; they would accuse me of partiality; they will say I am bribed by the kind looks of Lidia,

or Arethea's charming smile; they would make an appeal from my judgment, and my defence would be of no avail.— Perhaps the following tale may elucidate this argument :

Julia was the ornament of the metropolis.-She appeared, and the men saw, and listened to her alone, conversed alone with her. And the women?-The women whispered to each other, viewed her with malicious smiles, and endeavoured, in vain, to find out some fault in her, to appease, in some degree, their offended self-love.Julia shone faultless as the sun. Envy searched a spot on her in vain.-With dazzled eyes and despairing heart he was obliged to depart.— Is it necessary, after the above, to say, that every youth adored Julia, and considered it as an honor to be reckoned among her slaves?-One sighed, the other wept, a third

hung

hung his head, and of every one who appeared sorrowful, it was said, "he is in love with Julia."

And Julia?Julia loved no one thing except herself.— With haughty self-sufficiency she looked around her, and thought, where is my equal? who is worthy of me? Yet she very wisely suffered not any of these thoughts to be perceived; and when she was remarked for beauty and good sense, she was equally admired for her modesty and talent of dissimulation, which the women alone possess in the highest degree.

Yet, by degrees, she approached the end of her fourth winter, and she began to perceive, that vanity was only a vapour, which, though it places the soul in a pleasing delirium, has, beyond that, nothing stable or gratifying. How ever one may be taken up with oneself, it is yet not sufficient: something more than the magical I must be loved,

Julia now took an attentive survey of her crowd of adorers. At first, her view fell on the young Samolubow, who could vie in beauty with Cupid himself; moreover he thought on nothing but Julia and the looking glass. Next appeared to her again the manly Grabrow a young hero, who wanted nothing but a Grecian dress to be a perfect Mars-as deserv ing the preference; and sometimes, the talkative Pustolow appeared amiable, who, notwithstanding his judicial dignity, contended with Vestris in entrechat, and performed every day, at least ten French calembours. But it lasted not long-In the first, she soon perceived merely a tiresome conceited fool;-the young god of war, on a nearer acquaintance, was metamorphosed into a stately dragoon, and the amusing judge was shortly converted into a wearisome chatterer. Her choice, at last, fell on young Boris, who was really amiable. In this choice the heart and understanding were unanimous. Boris was brought up under the eye of his tender and sensible parent, in a foreign country. His head was furnished with useful and ornamental knowledge, and his heart cherished virtuous precepts.-He was, in per son, pleasing, though not literally handsome. His countenance had the noblest cast, and a fine soul shone from his eyes, He blushed, like an innocent girl, at every immodest word; spoke little, but always sensibly aud agreeably, strove not to shine by his wit and knowledge; and listened, at least, patiently to every body. The real worth of such a character is seldom known in the world; and here, tinsel is often regarded equally with pure gold, and modesty, the companion of real worth, is thrown into the shade, while impudence is caressed and applauded.-Boris loved Julia. How was it possible to avoid loving one so amiable and hand

some?

some?-but her numberless adorers kept him at a distance. He regarded her from afar, without sighing, without laying his hand with melancholy looks on his heart,-in one word, without acting the lover. Nevertheless Julia knew he loved her. Whoever is so inclined, may wonder at the quicksightedness of women! But not more visible than the sun at noon day, is to a woman the effect of her charms on a man of sentiment, however he may endeavour to conceal it. Julia soon distinguished the modest youth from the rest of her lovers. She encouraged him to approach her with friendly looks and smiles, she conversed with him, showed an esteem for his worth, listened to him with attention, and discovered a wish to see him more frequently. "You will go to the concert to-morrow?-to-morrow you will dine with us?-The time appeared very long to me yesterday, without you." -Boris did not belong to the number of those who construed every friendly word or look of a girl into a declaration of love, and, in their own conceit, set themselves down already as the favoured lover, when they are hardly even thought of; but, with all his discretion, he formed hopes; and hope is to love, what a warm April shower is to the newly sown seeds. He was nearly on the point of throwing himself at the feet of Julia to require an avowal of her love, and Julia was looking with desire towards that moment,-when a new phenomenon in the great world appeared on the horizon, and drew universal attention.

The young prince Karin, a favorite of nature and fortune, of high rank, rich and handsome, made his entree into the world; all eyes turned towards him. He was the talk of the day. Every body praised him, principally the women, but especially those to whom he had paid most attention, or those whom he had flattered. His good sense could not be sufficiently extolled, even when he merely conversed about the weather; and it need not be a matter of great astonishment, for enthusiasm is a microscope which magnifies things in a most surprising manner.

In the mean time a report prevailed, that the young prince was perfectly indifferent to female charms, and that Cupid had against him in vain emptied his quiver. What a task for the women! What fame for the victor!-It appeared to each as if offended Cupid, with weeping eyes, had applied to them, saying," revenge me, or I shall die of chagrin !"Cupid die! Ye Gods! what a misfortune! How could it be possible to exist without the amiable child?-O, no! We must take his part; he must be revenged, let it cost what it will! The new Alcides must be tamed, must be enslaved, must be enchained!

All