immediate feelings, and this is identically the reason, if I mistake not, why the poetry and eloquence of savages are always natural. They always write and speak as they feel; or, more properly, they cannot write otherwise, because they have no authority to consult. They have no literary guides, no critical monitors, no principles, systems, or theories of elegance and propriety. They are therefore entirely their own teachers and directors, and it is impossible they can write otherwise than what their own feelings dictate. Now as every feeling that is actually felt is a natural feeling, (for if it were otherwise it could not be felt,) the expression of these feelings must always be natural, and it is therefore in a manner impossible for men in a state of nature to write or speak but what is natural. It is true indeed there is a grossness frequently in what they say which shocks the delicacy of more refined feelings, but this is no argument of its being unnatural, for it was natural to them, though it is not so to us, and we immediately recognize it as such. Man is altogether the creature of circumstances, and so consequently are his feelings. The feelings therefore which are natural to him at one time are not natural at another, though he perceives they would be natural if he were placed under the circumstances that would have naturally excited them. We therefore recog nize the real feelings of nature in the productions of the rude uncultivated mind, though such feelings are no longer agreeable to ourselves because a more exquisite sense of propriety, which is in fact all that distinguishes the savage from the courtier, insensibly generates other feelings which become as natural to us as those which nature herself originally gave us. It is different, however, when we take our departure from the state of nature, and seek to enrich our minds with the knowledge of others. If we can make the knowledge of others properly our own, if we believe that the truths which they communicate to us are truths, not because they have taught them to us, but because we perceive, on examining them ourselves, that they are true, if we can perceive where our authorities

are wrong, and where they are right, and follow them no farther than this perception leads us, we are then actually in the state of nature, because ultimately we have no guide or authority but ourselves, and the consultation which we hold with our own feelings and understanding. It is evident, at the same time, that we cannot reach this height, and be perfectly qualified to judge how far every thing communicated to us is right or wrong, until science and literature have reached their utmost height, because, until then, we have not all the aids and means of ascertaining the truth of every proposition, theory, and system, to which our assent may be required. They may be right or wrong, for any thing that we can discover to the contrary, because the means of discovery are not placed within our reach, while science herself is employed, as we are, in exploring and investigating the nature of things, and even the nature of the means by which this nature can be discovered. But when science has reached her utmost height, she places within our reach the means of ascertaining what is demonstratively true, what is conjectural, and the degrees of probability on which conjecture is founded, what is merely possible, and, lastly, what is purely ideal. The moment we are enabled to ascertain all this, we are no longer the slaves of authority, because we have the same means of ascertaining, whether what they teach us be true that they had themselves, and, consequently, we revert back to the state of nature. We are no longer influenced by the authority of others, except so far as this authority quadrates with our own feelings and perceptions of things; and, therefore, we stand exactly upon the same ground with the natural poet and orator, whose effusions are always the emanations of his own mind and feelings, having no other feelings or authority which he could possibly consult.

It appears, then, that the state of nature, and that in which science has reached her last perfection, are, so far as regards natural feeling, exactly the same; and therefore we can have no difficulty in explaining why Cicero and Demosthenes are, as natural orators, as the savage chief

who animates his followers to deeds of heroism, and inspires them with the most perfect contempt for death, and all the images of horror which follow in its train. If it should be said that the eloquence of the savage chief is not true or natural cloquence, I reply that the enthusiasm which he excites in his followers proves it to be eloquence of the very first order, because the highest aim of oratory is to persuade, and he who persuades us to face danger in all its terrifying and appalling as'pects must certainly be of all other men best acquainted with the art of persuading. To maintain that the eloquence of the savage chief cannot be natural, because he does not address his followers with that force of argument which Cicero was obliged to use in addressing a Roman audience, would be, to maintain what is in itself not less unnatural than it is absurd.

The moment however we go one step beyond the state of nature, the human faculties present us with an aspect totally different from either the state of nature or that of knowledge. By perfect knowledge I do not mean that perfectability of hu⚫ man reason which Madame de Stael so strenuously advocates, because this is a perfectability which I have shewn in my "Essay on Taste," to be placed beyond the utmost reach of human attainment. I mean, therefore, by perfect knowledge, only that perfection of knowledge of which the limited nature of our faculties are capable. Keeping this idea of perfection in view, I say, that the moment we advance one step beyond the state of nature, we enter into a new world where all our faculties are enchained, and where it is impossible we can display a perfect freedom of opinions. The reason is obvious: we are thenceforth, necessarily obliged to look up to the authority of others. We acknowledge at once that we are no longer qualified to judge for ouselves, that nature is not sufficient to direct us, and that to attain to higher perfection, it is necessary to become acquainted with the acquirements of others. The moment we adopt this creed, we necessarily abandon all confidence in ourselves, and we view every object through the speculum

of others. We either believe that

they are right, or if we reject their opinion, we are apt to go into the extreme of scepticism, and to suspect that there is no certainty in human knowledge. It is impossible, however, that we can become complete sceptics in the infancy of science, because we are every day discovering the cause of effects, and the resolution of problems of which we were ignorant the day before; and we very justly conclude, that if we cannot understand what is taught by others, or even if it appear doubtful, the fault is in ourselves, and we expect that when we enlarge our views, and extend our enquiries farther, we shall perceive them as clearly as we do the truth which we discovered to day, but of which we were yesterday perfectly ignorant. A nation must therefore be far removed from the state of nature, and approach very nearly to the last stage of human knowledge before it can generate sceptics. The consequence is, that during the intermediate periods, we are completely the slaves of authority. The mere light of nature cannot enable us to determine whether what we are taught be true or false for the rea sons which I have already assigned, and therefore we are apt to devour greedily whatever is sanctioned by the authority of others. Hence it is that we seldom venture to think for ourselves, because every day makes us acquainted with the folly of our own opinions, with a clear perception of things which we could not understand before, and with the difficulties which we have yet to surmount before we are qualified to form a correct judgment. We are therefore apt to believe implicitly whatever we are taught, and make no distinction between truth and error, provided we have as good authority for the one as for the other. The consequence is, that we view every thing through the medium of authority, that we feel and think as others feel and think for us, and that we suspect our own feelings towards the close of life, withdrawn from the gay illusions of society,and opinions whenever we find them at variance with those of persons whom we are in the habit of reverencing as our guardians and di

rectors.

(To be continued.)

Ideen über unsre Erasmische aussprache des Altgriechischen :-A view of our pronunciation of the ancient Greek, called Erasmian. By M. Neidlinger. Vienna.

The subject of the present work is a proof, that the Germans of the present day are more eager of grasping at what is curious, than of aiming at what is useful. The rage in Germany seems to be for subjects inexplicable in their nature, and which, if resolved, would leave us no wiser than we were before. It matters little how the Greeks pronounced their vowels and dipthongs, provided we agree in pronouncing them in the most harmonious manner, or at least in that manner which seems most agreeable to our ear; for as there can be no abstract harmony, all sounds are harmonious that seem to be so. If, then, we be satisfied with our own mode of pronouncing Greek, and if we were not we should not have adopted it, what avails it to know how it was pronounced by the original framers of it? Sounds, indeed, excite agreeable or disagreeable sensations, and therefore we should prefer the former in the formation of languages; but between two agreeable sounds, it matters not which we take, because neither of them conveys any meaning to the mind, antecedent to convention, and therefore one will suit our purpose as well as the other. There can be no room for choice where the harmony of sound is equal. When, therefore, we admire a certain passage in Homer, according to our manner of reading it—and when the natives of Corfu or Zante admire it equally, though they pronounce and read it differently, and when we accuse them, and they accuse us of introducing into the language of Homer, barbarous and corrupt sounds, we bring charges against each other which

neither of us understands. Sound cannot be corrupted, for it is not composed of parts; and therefore the separating or vitiating principle cannot act upon it. A corrupt sound can, therefore, mean nothing more than a disagreeable sound, or a sound void of harmony. How absurd is it then, to accuse the inhabitants of Zante with using inharmonious sounds, for if they appear harmonious to them, they must be so, however harsh and grating they may be to us. Perhaps, if their ears were more exquisitely attuned to musical expression, they would find our pronunciation of Greek more musical than their own; but while they want this nice discrimination, our sounds may offend them, and consequently possess no harmony so far as regards them. Whatever pleases the ear of any individual is harmony to him, however grating it may be to the ear of another. If we could prove the existence of an harmonious sound without recurring to the ear at all, we might then indeed determine whose pronunciation is the most harmonious, but surely if we can form no idea of an harmonious sound but by our ear, and if we can assign no reason why it produces the agreeable effect, no man can pretend to make his own ear a standard for that of another. Perhaps the most musical sound in nature, is discord compared to the music of less materialized beings than man. A French critic, treating of the work before us, makes the following judicious reflections.

"The pronunciation of the Greek has excited no inconsiderable dispute among the learned; but after all that has been advanced concerning the value of letters, we now remain where we set out, and are as wise as if the question had never been agitated: and the most elegant of languages no longer speaks but to our eyes, and offers to the ear but contested sounds. M. Neidlinger

Eur. Mag. Vol, 82,

G

has thrown one opinion more into the balance: it is, no doubt, judicious and reasonable; but it is still only an opinion, and will ever remain so; and though he finds both parties in error, he has not helped in the least to determine the controversy. The observations of learned men are always of little value when opposed to the grammar of a people. M. Neidlinger acknowledges that we may have adopted an erroneous pronunciation of the diphtongs. He shews that since the second century, ɛi and oi had lost their quality as dipthongs, and became simple vowel sounds: in support of this opinion, he cites a passage from Slobée; but why has he not cited a passage still more ancient, I mean that of the oracle, related by Thucydides, in his second book, chap. 54, the entire ambiguity of which rests on the prounciation of the dipthong of. The Athenians, afflicted by a pestilence, recollected a prediction which their fathers had reported formerly:-"HEεt Awpiakos πoλεμog кai Xoòg ap aur. As in the pronunciation λopoç, pestilence, does not differ from Xiuoc, the scourge which threatened them was not anticipated, till its effects were previously felt. It is certain, that, among the ancient Greeks, of was pronounced. 'But I will readily say with one of our most learned Hellenists, thanks to eta! this letter, n, which is the principal point of difficulty in Greek pronunciation, has been disputed with such acrimony, that there has been Etacists and Itacists; as there have been Jansenists and Molinists. What seems to give the victory to the partisans of the Erasmian pronunciation is, a passage from Plato, and another from Terence: the former proves that this letter eta, n, has been intended to strengthen epsilon, as omega has been to prolong omicron. The second proves that the sound of both was preserved in the new letter. The passages are these:-Plato says, Ου γαρ η εχρώμεθα αλλά ε το Taλatov; and Terence, Literam namque E videmus esse ad nra proximam, sicut o et w videntur esse vicinæ sibi. Temporum momenta distant, non soni nativitas."

dustry than the Germans, in elucidating historic facts, and fixing the chronology of doubtful events, particularly those of the middle ages. That this is the national spirit, and not confined to the curiosity of a few antiquaries, appears evident from the interest, which the public authorities take in promoting this species of knowledge. How far this zeal, however, may tend to promote the ends of science, appears to us of a questionable nature. The knowledge of events is of little importance, unless it make us wiser or better; but neither wisdom nor virtue is promoted by knowing when events took place. If history had merely informed us, that the Romans were defeated at the battle of Cannæ, and that the engagement took place on a certain day, in a certain year, what advantage could we derive from this abstract information? To tell us that a battle was fought, and the weaker party overcome, is only to tell us, that power prevails over weakness. The information, therefore, can serve only those, if any such there be, who are ignorant of the fact. But to tell us that it was fought on a certain day, adds still less to our experience, and can only gratify an idle curiosity. The case, however, is different when we are told, that upwards of forty thousand men were lost by the rashness of one general, who would have been all saved, had they been guided by the wisdom of another. It is not, then, the event which takes place, much less the time in which it takes place, that interests us, or at least that should interest us, but the causes by which it is brought about. It is this knowledge which the wise man seeks after the fool is satisfied if he can tell the date of the event.

Nisi utile est quod facias, stulta est gloria.

M. Wedekind, however, though he attaches more importance to dates than we do, and has, consequently, exerted more diligence in ascertaining them, directed his attention to more useful than we think them worthy of, has still purposes. He has corrected many geographical errors, and pointed out, with great precision, many places which have been hitherto very imperfectly known. The author throws considerable light on the genealogy of the house of Saxe, and on its alliance with Charlemagne. The diligence which he has exercised in elucidating the obscure, and exploding the fabulous, has necessarily enabled him to correct many popular errors, and even to trace them to their source. He consigns, for instance, Joada, a princess of Hungary,

to the regions of romance, and shews, that she owed her imaginary existence to a false Latin genetive case.-On the whole, it may be said, that if his work be not one of those which expands the mind by the lights of useful science, at least it is well calculated to gratify curiosity, and to unbend the mind from the toil of active pursuits, and severer studies.

Pindarus Werke: :-a Metrical Translation of the Works of Pindar, with the original Texts and Notes. By T. Thiersch. 2 vols. royal 8vo. Leipsick.

This is the first time the works of the most difficult of the Greek poets, with the fragments, have been completely translated into German verse of the same metre with the original. M. Thiersch has completed this bold undertaking in a manner that does him great credit. The translation is faithful; and although the original is rendered verse for verse, yet nothing seems forced, and the Greek text is conformable to the best editions. The introduction treats of Greek music, and of the author of Pindar's verse; and explains the subject and occasion upon which each ode was written. The author treats generally of the origin of dramatic poetry at Athens, and concludes with a chronological table of Pindar's poems.

Delle Rivoluzioni d'Italia, &c. :Of the Revolutions of Italy. By C. Denina, with the unpublished additions and corrections of the Author. 3 vols. 8vo. Milan.

The continuation of the Revolutions

of Italy, from 1713 to 1792, under the title of "Modern Italy," appeared full of errors. The author undertook to correct them by a copy of the edition, published at Venice in 1793. He accordingly retouched the entire of his "Revolutions." After his death, this corrected and improved copy fell into the hands of Giuseppe Micali, known by his "History of Italy before the Dominion of the Romans." The typographic society of Italian classics happily succeeded in gaining possession of this valuable compilation, and have published it with great accuracy and

correctness.

The object of Rosini in this work is, to make us acquainted with the life, studies, and writings of this celebrated author; and we cannot refuse him the eredit of evincing judgment and impartiality in the execution of it. Guicciardini flourished in Italy when it was the scene of important political occurrences, and the parent of eminent literary productions. His Italian history of the principal events of his own time is a master-piece in its kind, but he has been accused, nor does Rosini deny the charge, of entertaining sentiments unfavourable to liberty. He admits that he was infected with a portion of the spirit that characterized his age, and how few writers have triumphed over its influence! He adopted that dangerous maxim of Machiavel, that whatever is useful and happily executed is always just and reasonable; and this maxim had no inconsiderable ascendancy over his life and writings. Rosini, however, maintains, that he was an enemy to despotism, though no ad. vocate for popular administration; and that in all his vicissitudes, he distinguished himself by his firmness and consistency of character. He likewise takes considerable pains in shewing the merits of his history, and vindicating him from some unfounded charges which had been brought against his character and his impartiality as a writer. It is mournful to reflect, that a writer who had been equally caressed by the court of Rome and the house of Medicis, should be finally abandoned by both, and suffered to conclude his days in privation and misery: and if we may believe Legni, whose fidelity as an historian has been seldom questioned, he died at length by poison.

L'Italia avanti il Dominio dei Romani:-Italy before the domination of the Romans. By Joseph Micali, Second edition, 4 vols. 8vo.

The present work is the history of a people that had no historians of their own; and though it procured for the author one of the decennial prizes instituted by the French government in Italy, it is obvious that neither talent