such men we call with all the earnestness and authority which it is becoming to assume in such a cause. Let them go and endeavour to hasten the happy hour when they may file off the chains they have laid on this miserable people. Let them endeavour to repay, by generous and disinterested conduct to the slave population, the comforts they themselves have reaped from the sweat of their aching brows. There are none from whom the civilization of Africa, or the instruction of negroes, could come with so good a grace as from themselves; none whose gifts would possess so much of that zest of novelty, which would recommend them to the taste of these long-injured creatures. But if these gentlemen will not take warning; let them remember how often, in those sultry climates to which they are accustomed, the sullen and silent evening ushers in a night of tempest, and hurricane, and devastation. If the West Indians persevere in denying to the negroes the rights and immunities of human nature; in veiling from them the light and glory of heaven; in barring up as far as lies in them the door of peace and everlasting joy; the night of retribution is not far distant. Let them remember that a cloud of something more than the size of a man's hand has begun to blacken on their horizon; that a new West Indian power has arisen; that they have in St. Domingo armies of free and well-disciplined negroes, and a leader of negroes neither indisposed nor unable to revenge the wrongs of his species upon the nations of Europe. We know of no adequate shelter against the storm of negro wrath, except those enlightened, generous, benevolent principles of West Indian legislation, which may, under the blessing of God, carry it innocuous to the ground.

ART. XXII.-Klopstock and his Friends: a Series of_Familiar Letters, written between the years 1750 and 1803. Translated from the German, with a Biographical Introduction, by Miss Benger. 8vo. pp. 309. Colburn. London, 1816. CERTAIN recollections connected with the name of Klopstock led us to anticipate much pleasure, and not barren but profitable pleasure, from the perusal of this volume. We must confess that these hopes have been grievously disappointed, and we think it but an act of justice to our readers, many of whom might be liable to the same mistake, to give them timely warning. It is very possible that such a collection of letters may excite a considerable interest in the minds of Klopstock's countrymen, and of the warm admirers of his poetry; because we dwell with pleasure

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on circumstances, however trivial, which serve to elucidate the history, or develope the character, of an author in whose works we either glory or greatly delight. But, whether it be owing to infelicity of selection on the part of Klamer Schmidt, their original editor, or to a real deficiency of interest in the correspondence of this knot of friends, there certainly is very little in this volume which leaves either a deep or a favourable impression on the mind, or is capable of repaying the general reader for the time which the perusal demands. In one way, indeed, the volume may be useful. Its perusal generates that feeling of disappointment which is calculated to convince us how vainly happiness is pursued in any but one straight and narrow path, and how little genius and talent can do, by themselves, towards ensuring its attainment. In the early pages of the volume we have, to use the words of the translator," a holiday view of human society," and Klopstock and his friends appear to have realized whatever the poets of other countries have fancied of concord and truth, frankness and hospitality." But, as we have too often experienced in other societies, this bright glow and promising dawn is soon clouded over, and a melancholy contrast succeeds in the querulous and nearly solitary correspondence which closes the volume. We are not surprised at this, however, because there is an evident want of durable materials in the links which connect this brilliant circle. It has the plating of sentiment, and the ornaments of fancy and wit; but is sadly wanting in the weight of solid principle, and in that indissoluble firmness of combination which no merely human contrivance can impart. We do not say this under the influence of prejudices against the German school, (though in matters of religious sentiment we by no means disavow them), but in allusion to the want of general reference in this publication to the best and highest principles. If, as we suspect, considerable pains have been taken to lustrate and cleanse the correspondence from any such lurking taint, in compliance with the taste of a fastidious philosophy, but too prevalent on the continent, it is no wonder if what it gains in favour on that side be lost in the opinion of those who are still so far behind-hand in respect to the progress of refinement, as to delight in the name of Christians. Even the English translator, though we do not accuse her of premeditated intention, seems to have had some very unnecessary scruples of this kind, if we may judge from the note subjoined to the following letter.

"Quedlinburgh, September 6. "Yes, I consent that my beloved Frederic shall go whither the voice of God directs him. Not that it costs me but little to endure the separation, nor that I am disposed to contemplate through a magnify.

ing glass the first indications of good fortune. But I was struck with those words in Count Bernstorff's letter, intimating that this was only the earnest of future favour.

"By what means has the cordial good will, and the efforts by which it is manifested, been awakened in the north-west? The sons of song live not on pure air. My son has still many difficulties to overcome in the completion of his work. In future, he must chuse between God and man, and either do violence to his own conscience, or openly and manfully pronounce judgment against those scoffers who will not perceive the necessity of a Mediator, and consequently refuse the honour due to his name.

"But how many are there who have formed on this awful subject the most vague and childish, and even idiotic conceptions? and how therefore does it behove him to treat it with all the reverence suitable to its sacred character."* (P. 83, 84.)

"The English reader should be apprized that the elder Klopstock's letters could not be divested of their native quaintness."

Now we confess that we can discover nothing quaint in this, excepting it be that very tone and spirit, the absence of which we regret throughout the larger part of this correspondence, and we are consequently inclined to think that a few more of the elder Klopstock's letters, with all their "native quaintness" about them, would have greatly enriched the collection.

But it is not merely the absence of what is good of which we have to complain: there is a tone of Anacreontic levity in some of the letters, which we should not have looked for from the author of the Messiah. In one place he writes thus:

"We passed through a village, whose inhabitants certainly merit the appellation of sages. The church-yard was planted with rose trees: we had an inclination to drink a bottle of wine on those blooming graves, and the good people brought us so large a glass, that they seemed to know intuitively we were not water drinkers. After this potent libation, how lovely appeared to us the long track of woods through which we had passed, and which fancy changed to delicious groves." (P. 53, 54.)

And again,

"We have this morning often had a glimpse of the Rhine as it flows softly through the woods. The vine-covered hills encircle the town, and you may imagine they were not viewed with indifference by those who know the joys of wine. On the bridge of the Rhine we descried with rapture this land of promise. We have crossed the bridge, and are now hastening to see the falls of the Rhine. I have pledged my. self to the nymphs of that majestic river to drink wine on their banks, and shall not fail to perform the libation." (P. 71.)

We are afraid that his friend Schmidt's system, lax as it is, would still leave too heavy a demand on the fashionable world to

be complied with. It is, however, precisely in consonance with the view of religion pretty generally adopted by them.

"But it is absolutely necessary to descend from your present standard of female excellence. You ought in this respect to imitate the moderation we observe in the ways of Heaven to man, which is indeed rigid in exacting duty, but commutes for one half the virtue it prescribes." (P. 105.)

In a subsequent letter the same writer bears apparently unintentional testimony to some truths not so likely to be well received in the world.

"I was pained to observe that the first coolness might be traced to certain critical strictures on a literary undertaking, which excited the spirit of ambition in one party, and I know not what spirit in the other; but friendship was the mutual sacrifice. Does not this almost authorise us to say, that even the best men have little more than speculative bonté du cœur, and that there is in the passions, as in death, something to bring all men to the same level?

"Yet one remark, and I have done. The sentiments of friendship hold in reality but the rank of aliens and subalterns in the human heart; they are cherished whilst they coalesce with nearer interests, or clash not with those stronger passions which are less generous, and consequently more properly indigenous to mankind." (P. 153, 154.)

The ladies have no reason to be flattered with the sort of homage paid to them in these pages. It is rather of a Mahometan cast, and of a character which corresponds with the spirit of the following sentiment, that is, a spirit of nearly universal gallantry.

"I have no resources but in my sister, and my correspondents: with regard to the first, you must be sensible that we lose with a sister many of those subjects of conversation we enjoy with a male friend, or with any other individual of the softer sex.' (P. 81.)

What are the "many subjects of conversation" which we might enjoy with "any other individual of the softer sex," but must "lose with a sister?" Far distant be the day, when British females shall be soft enough to encourage the sentimental intimacy of such friends as these! But above all, we deprecate this spirit in its most insidious shape, which is what is here termed, aptly enough, "spiritual gallantry." A specimen of this may be found in the following extract from one of Klopstock's letters to Schmidt:

"We had proceeded during one hour, when we landed to breakfast at a villa close to the water's edge; here the company divided into smaller coteries, who thus came insensibly to enjoy the privilege of social intercourse. Hirzel's wife, a young woman, with speaking blue eyes, who sings Haller's Doris with incomparable pathos, was the queen of the party, and I of course as occupying the post of honour was expected to be her loyal knight. Unfortunately for the credit of

my fidelity, there was in our party a Miss Schinz, (the sister of a very agreeable young man who was also present) a black eyed girl, who was the youngest and the prettiest of the group: at the first glance my heart beat with emotion, for I saw in her the exact counterpart of the girl who in her thirteenth year had pledged herself to be mine. It is not necessary to relate to you this story, though to say the truth, I told the tale, and much more than I would now be at the trouble to repeat, to my new little friend, who listening with the guileless innocence of seventeen (yet half afraid to listen), trembling to be thus addressed on a subject so new to her bashful inexperience-above all, to be thus addressed by me-at first cast down her lovely black eyes, with the sweetest and most touching expression of reverence, and then kindling with enthusiasm, unexpectedly gave utterance to some lofty sentiments, and at length in an attitude of impassioned devotion, exclaimed, 'You may imagine how highly I revere the bard by whom I was first taught to form just conceptions of the Deity!" (P. 76, 77.)

This is all very pretty and picturesque, but we had rather see our sisters and daughters, in "the guileless innocence of seventeen," taught "to form just conceptions of the Deity" under different auspices, and by those who think a little less about blue and black eyes.

We regret that so the interesting Meta, Klopstock's first wife. One we will give, as being, though not unexceptionable, one of the best specimens which the collection affords, and having some sweet touches of natural feeling. It was written before her marriage.

few traces are to be found in this volume of

"Meta to Klopstock.

8th August, 1752. "Return, my Klopstock, return-let me reclaim thee as my hostage, or shall I say my master? No matter which—if I but sit by thee, and listen to thee, I can be well pleased to remain thy captive.

"Oh! how dull, and dreary, and tedious, have I found these days of absence; not that I had to complain of unkindness-no, it was not that I suffered, but that I was not permitted to enjoy. Nobody talked of thee. I was in a beautiful country, and how little it availed me, since I saw it not with thee. I was in what is called good company; but since I have tasted of thy thoughts, and become familiar with thy perfections, I have lost all relish for inferior society, and find an intercourse with ordinary beings irksome and insupportable. I was dead to the gaiety of my companions, and though there were some young foreigners, who would fain have drawn me into conversation, I had scarcely the complaisance to reply to their questions. Was I to blame for sullenness? Oh! when I no longer heard thy voice, nor was even permitted to pronounce thy name, what remained but to think of thee; and how could I bear to part from that only solace! Had they but left me to myself, had they allowed me to enjoy my own quiet meditations, I could still have been almost happy; but some officious stranger was for ever invading my sanctuary. The dismal weather kept us all