bution of their lands, even his agents themselves had not ventured to justify. Cassius, and the Brutuses, he had indeed sacrificed to paternal vengeance; yet it would have been great and honourable to have neglected private revenge for the public good. But Pompey he had decoyed under the semblance of peace, and Lepidus under the mask of friendship. Antony he had bound to himself by the leagues of Tarentum and Brundusium, and by the marriage of his sister, and had then punished with death, as the reward of the fraudulent affinity. Thenceforward there had been peace indeed, but not a bloodless peace. The public had sustained great loss by the defeat of Lollius and his army, and by the slaughter of Varus and his three legions. Many distinguished individuals had lost their lives in Rome on charges, real or fictitious, of conspiring against his life. Nor had he abstained from carrying grief and desolation into private families. Tiberius Nero he had forcibly deprived of his wife, and had consulted the priests, in scorn, whether she could be married in due form while big with child to her former husband. Other deeds of private outrage and atrocity had marked the heartless caution of his character. Fatally for the state had Livia been a mother; more fatally for the family of the Cæsars had she become a step-mother. Beneath his sway no honours had been left sacred to the gods, for he had desired to be himself worshipped as a god. Even Tiberius he had chosen for his successor, not from good will to him or concern for the state, but because he had thoroughly known his arrogant and unrelenting temper, and sought for posthumous renown, by comparison with an infamous successor." hand, and probably with the same temper, he signed the proscription of Cicero, and the pardon of Cinna. His virtues, and even his vices, were artificial; and according to the various dictates of his interest, he was at first the enemy, and at last the father of the Roman world. When he framed the artful system of the imperial authority, his moderation was inspired by his fears. He wished to deceive the people by an image of civil liberty, and the army by an image of civil government." He died at the age of 76. For twelve years he shared the sovereign power with Lepidus and Antony; for four-and-forty years he reigned without a rival, and without control. He doated on Livia, and Livia contrived his death for the sake of her son. The Romans styled him the father of his country, and he gave the Romans in return the execrable Tiberius, contrasted with whom he might be thought great and amiable. Thus were the Romans, the most civilised and powerful nation of antiquity, completely enthralled and converted into a personal inheritance, by a crafty and cold-blooded adventurer. If to be merely fed and perpetuated be the highest destiny of mankind, Augustus may pass for a benefactor and a patriot; if the generous feeling of independence, the high aspirations of conscious talent, and the proud assertion of free action, belong indeed to man, the first emperor of Rome was the most execrable of our species. This man, who, in the pages of honest history, appears thus dark and repulsive, is the same person whom Virgil and Horace have celebrated in immortal verse as the saviour and the guardian of the best interests of mankind, and as possessing the virtues, and deserving the honours of the Deity himself. Did those unaffected, inspired, unrivalled poets, sacrilegiously sell their extacies for the patronage and the bribes of power? The wishes of every lover of poetry are so strongly opposed to an affirmative answer, that the question would "A be answered in the negative almost without evidence. The gentle and sensitive soul of Virgil probably believed the reign of Augustus to be wise and salutary. Horace fought under the banners of Brutus and It appears obvious, that the penetrating and uncompromising historian would represent the latter character as the true picture of Augustus. Gibbon, who understood the spirit and design of Tacitus better than any modern writer, thus characterises the same 66 subtle tyrant: cool head, an unfeeling heart, and a cowardly disposition, prompted him, at the age of nineteen, to assume the mask of hypocrisy, which he never afterwards laid aside. With the same VOL. IX. 3 T Cassius, and may therefore be supposed to have been a renegade poet; but the supposition would involve an injustice. Horace had favoured liberty, not in visions, speculations, or morbid poetry, but in personal hazards, and the hard conflicts of arms; and he afterwards lauded Augustus, not as the head of a party, and the representative of principles hostile to freedom, but as the Emperor of Rome, without a rival, and without an opponent. The timid and the heartless are bitter in censuring the motives, and vindictive in assailing the objects of friends whom they have abandoned. Horace is not chargeable with the pusillanimity and perjury of such political tergiversation: Et cunctâ terrarum subactâ, Præter atrocem animum Catonis. This is his sublime eulogy of him who preferred death to the friendship of Cæsar. Approved by his judgment, and beloved by his heart, must have been the recollection of Brutus, the unsullied but unfortunate champion of public liberty and true glory, when he sung upon his lyre: Tecum Philippos et celerem fugam Turpe solum tetigere mento. But after all, poets are never good politicians; and we would with Plato exclude, not their persons or their songs from the protection of the republic, but their minds from its discussions, and their judgments from its guardianship. Many men, however, of profounder skill in public affairs, and great intrepidity in political conduct, lent their authority and co-operation to the insidious and pernicious policy of Augustus. Of these, one of the most remarkable was Crispus Sallustius, grandson of a sister of the celebrated historian's, into whose family and name he had been adopted. Like Mæcenas, he declined the higher offices of the state, yet in personal authority he stood higher than many who had been graced with triumphal dignities and consular rank. In the profusion of his habits, and the splendour of personal pomp, he approached nearer to luxurious extravagance, than to the chaste dignity of our an cestors. Suberat tamen vigor animi, ingentibus negotiis par; eò acrior, quò somnum et inertiam magis ostentabat. His was indeed a vigour of mind equal to the conduct of affairs of the weightiest moment: when he seemed to slumber in indolence and sloth, then was the energy of his mind most intensely strained. While Mæcenas was the favourite, Crispus stood next, and he soon became the chief repository of imperial confidence. Having been privy to the murder of Posthumus Agrippa, the only surviving grandson of Augustus, he enjoyed in his old age the friendship of Tiberius rather in appearance than in reality. The same had been the fortune of Macenas: Fato potentiæ rarò sempiternæ aut satias capit, aut illos, cum omnia tribuerunt, aut hos, cum jam nihil reliquum est quod cupiant. Such favour of princes. It is seldom lastis the fate of power derived from the ing, for either the prince ceases to feel complacency in his favourite, after he has exhausted his bounty, or the favourite becomes indifferent when nought remains for his ambi tion." This is surely a degrading view of a manly intellect. If on such terms only greatness, and dignity, and life can be enjoyed, were it not nobler and wiser to want them? There is a wide difference between submission to a state of things which we cannot mend, and activity in promoting the tyranny. Wise and good men may views and obtaining the rewards of properly abstain from following the example of Brutus, and even from giving unnecessary and unavailing offence to a tyrant; but they ought never to lend their aid in perpetration of murder, rapine, or cruelty. If life depend upon the alternative, it is even the part of prudence to die as Hampden, rather than to live as Cardinal Wolsey. (To be continued.) MR EDITOR, THE attention of the "reading public" has lately been much directed to the Literature of Germany, and the erroneous notions formerly entertained regarding it are rapidly vanishing, as the means are put in our power of appreciating its merits. It is true that those writings which have hitherto been considered as affording a fair specimen of German composition, were neither in style nor taste at all suited to an English palate; and because it, by some mischance or other, happened, that Kotzebue's crude productions were those which obtained the widest circulation in this country, so his mawkish sentimentality was generally considered as the predominant characteristic of German works of imagination. The celebrity which Göethe had acquired in his own country, had indeed reached us; but such of his works as found their way hither, rather strengthened the prevailing notion than otherwise; and his Werther, which had created so extraordinary a sensation at home, appeared absolutely ridiculous in an English dress. Schiller was only known to us by an indifferent translation, the "Robbers," which was judged of and criticised without reference either to the situation of the author, (then a young student), or to the circumstances under which it was composed; while the later effusions of this delightful writer remained for us "a shut book." But the darkness which has hitherto obscured this part of the literary hemisphere is now gradually dissipating; the language of Germany is more cultivated among us, and the labours of many have been exerted to make us better acquainted with its treasures. Your own Magazine deserves praise for its share in these laudable efforts; and the several translations which have in the course of the few preceding months appeared in it, will help to prove, that in light and elegant composition, as well as in profound research, the Germans are fully entitled to a distinguished place. Aloys Schreiber, an author whose name has perhaps never been heard of in England, is yet justly celebrated in his own country, for the ease of his style, and purity of his diction. He conducts at present one of those Tuschenbücher, of which mention is made in a previous Number of your Magazine. The following tale, from his pen, appeared in the Urania for the present year; and should you DINNER was over-my mother had taken up her knitting apparatus, and I was picking my teeth and amusing myself with building castles in the air, when my attention was roused by the unusual number of the good lady's hems, which seemed to be a prelude to some extraordinary communication. At length, out it camc. "My dear Tom," said she, "yesterday was your birth-day; you are now twenty-three, and it is high time you should be looking about for a good match: a man must marry some time or other, but he should take care he does so ere it be too late, for that is as bad as too soon.' "Why, mother," answered I, laughing, "I am not much disinclined to change my situation,' as the phrase goes, but I have never yet been fortunate enough to meet with the girl who could induce me to become a benedict." While I was speaking, my mama had opened her china snuff-box, and with a knowing look, held a pinch betwixt her finger and her thumb"What would you think now," said, she, after a pause, and eyeing me. through her spectacles, "what would you think of little Doris, the Upper Forrester's daughter? I shook my head-" She is well enough to pass away a hour or so with occasionally, for she is a goodhumoured, lively thing; but she is like the lilies of the valley, which toil not, neither do they spin.' "Son, she has ten thousand dollars in the bank, and they can set the looms agoing. You know our estate is burthened with debt; and, as you now think of keeping house for yourself, and wont make use of your friends influence to procure a place under government for yougood mother," interrupted I, for all, that is out of the question; one who has any pretensions to the character of an honest man, cuts but a sorry figure now-a-days as a man in office. 66 My once For my own part, I can only go straight forwards, and it would not be easy to avoid every now and then treading on the kibe of some place man or other, or giving him a jerk with my elbow; and I should gain nothing but vexation for my pains. No, no; I will travel, and endeavour to suit myself to my mind." "But do you know what the expression getting suited' means? I took her hand-" Mother," cried I, "most fully do I appreciate the force of the expression, for I have seen it so completely exemplified in my own family; during my father's life, he and yourself had but one heart-one will." This was touching the right string, and decided the question at once. My mother wiped her spectacles, gave me her blessing, and desired me to travel. My portmanteau was soon packed; and almost before I could bestow a serious thought on the object of my journey, I found myself seated in the diligence for B. I was ashamed, however, to turn back, and determined to give myself up to the guidance of my lucky star. I had several acquaintances in B, and loitered away some weeks with them, and among what is called the good society of the place. Here there was no lack of pretty maidens, all ready and willing to get married; but their forward manners, and total want of feminine delicacy, soon convinced me that this was not the place "to be suited." For the most part, their ideas of life were gathered from the shelves of the circulating library; and of gentility, from the miserable flounderings of a set of strolling players who sometimes visited the town. In short, their small accomplishments sat on them with about as much grace and propriety as the glass beads and tinsel of the Europeans do on the necks of savages. One young creature, however, attracted my attention by her naiveté and engaging disposition. I determined to make her acquaintance, and found no difficulty in procuring an introduction to her father's house. She was the only child of a rich contractor, who had amassed a considerable fortune during the war, and now lived very comfortably on his income. Wilhelmine played the harpsichord a little, sung a little, drew a little, and had a smattering of French and Italian; but it was easy to perceive that she laid claims to excellence in all these acquirements. Throughout the house there was great splendour, without the slightest particle of taste. Miss was the idol of her parents, over whom she exercised unlimited sway; and the surest and shortest road to the old people's hearts, was by praising their darling. It would have been no very difficult matter for me to have won this damsel's hand, had I been so inclined, for besides that she shewed some sort of penchant for me, the Von before my name was a powerful recommendation with old square-toes; but I felt that she was not at all calculated to make a wife for a domestic man like myself, and a letter which I soon afterwards received from my mother, wherein she expressed the same opinion, determined me to look elsewhere for a sposa. I left B-, in company with a fellow-collegian who was going to Son business, and, as I wished to see that town, we agreed to travel together. In the inn at Lunan, where we stopt for the night, we fell in with some strangers, a gentleman from S, with his son, and a young lady, his ward. We met together at supper, and the conversation soon took an easy and lively turn. It is true, the elder of the two men spoke seldom, but he smiled often, and, as they say, at the right place, and looked as if he could say a great deal on every subject, if he would. He made up for his silence, however, by keeping the bottle continually on the move. The son was completely the reverse of his father; his tongue never lay still, although his ideas were not of the most brilliant order. The young lady remained silent, and apparently absorbed in her own thoughts; she had a tall, elegant person, handsome features, with a mild and somewhat melancholy expression, and she appeared to have recently shed tears. I gathered, from what passed at table, and afterwards from the landlord, that she was called Adeline; that her father, Major Lindenow, had fallen in battle, leaving her to the protection of his friend Colonel Sternbach, who now lived on his estate, near Lunan: that Colonel Sternbach had sent her to be educated at S-, where she resided with his brother-in-law, the Senator Seldorf, with whom I had just supped: that the Colonel now lay dangerously ill, and that Seldorf, who expected to inherit his estates, was on his return from visiting him. Although Adeline had never once deigned to look at me, yet there was a something about her that interested me exceedingly in her favour. Old Seldorf, on learning my intention of remaining a few days in S-, gave me a pressing invitation to visit him and his family. His son drank to our better acquaintance, and swore that one's time might be spent at Sin the most delightful way in the world, and that even a University life did not surpass it. He offered, as my travelling friend quitted me here, to fill the vacant place in my carriage, to save me, as he said, from the blue devils. On any other occasion I could willingly have dispensed with the youngster's good intentions, for there is nothing in which I take greater delight, than, when seated snugly in a corner of the vehicle, I can give myself up undisturbed to every fancy, and luxuriate in all the delights of castle-building. Now, however, I determined for once to forego my favourite gratification, and acceded to his proposal, as I thought it might afford me an opportunity of learning something more of Adeline, into whose good opinion I felt a strong inclination to ingratiate myself. Early on the following morning we set out from Lunan, and for several miles, my new companion troubled me but little with his remarks, as he almost immediately began to snore; but he soon awoke, and then talked all in a breath about his college adventures, his connections in S-, his two sisters, Adeline, and his prospects of getting a place. "I shall then," added he, rubbing his hands, "marry Adeline; for you know a wife is a necessary appendage to a man, when he becomes of consequence in the state.” This piece of intelligence was not of the most pleasant description "So," said I, doubtless with a sheepish enough look, " you have confess ed that Adeline is perfectly indifferent to you, and yet you mean to marry her; how can you expect happiness from such an union?" Pooh, pooh," said he; "my dear fellow, your ideas of marriage are quite out of date: the husband has only to take care that his wife keeps within proper bounds-that she attends to her family, and kitchen concerns receives the guests-and so forth. The Orientals have far better notions of matrimony than we in the north; among them the wife is neither more nor less than the prinpal slave; and that, according to my view of the matters, is what she ought to be, and not a whit more." But Adeline-" said I, impa tiently. "Adeline," answered he, " has ridiculous whims, like all other girls who have not yet reached a certain age. She has nothing to boast of but her pretty face, and has hitherto lived in complete dependence. My uncle, indeed, lets her want for nothing; but then he is daily expected to set out on his journey for the other world, in which case, she must be glad to get a comfortable settlement. During the last two years she has taken the charge of our domestic concerns, for my sisters do not trouble their heads much about such matters.” I was now enabled to form a tolerably good guess of Adeline's situa tion, and her misfortunes imparted an additional interest to her in my eyes. On the second day after my arrival at S-, I received an invitation from the elder Seldorf, which I readily accepted. The sisters were a pair of dolls, who displayed their accomplishments exactly as if they wished to let them out to hire. The youngest of the two played a few musty waltzes on the piano, and the other sung a bravura, in a style that made my very flesh creep. Adeline busied herself about the house, and it was easy to see that the management of every thing was in her hands. She seemed a little more cheerful than when I saw her at Lunan; still her countenance bore evident traces of dejection. Whilst the sisters were acting their parts, she sat down to her needle, from which she seldom looked up her future lord and master |