bering the ignorant and vicious, keep it under in its proper place! while in those receptacles for convicts alluded to, it becomes decidedly the court language. Nor is this all: when our thieves and swindlers find that their mystic words are better under understood by the multitude than they could wish, they readily invent and propagate other phrases, so that their meanings may not be understood, except by those of their own fraternity : hence this continual invention of language. The famous slums of Holborn teem with such inventors; so that it is nothing erroneous to say, that there are daily upwards of two thousand persons in London deeply cogitating how they shall best obscure the English tongue.

The great Dr. Johnson, when he was arranging his noble national Dictionary, did not seem to be aware that he had so many mortal enemies at his door. Not only do they invent many new words daily, but, even by bets and otherwise, contrive to make something out of the old, They are diligent lexicographers; examine into words and terms of doubtful import, and construe them according to their wishes. We are even told they have slang vocabularies printed, to aid them in their honest intentions in turning their villanies to the best account. Every ship, then, that sails with convicts to New Holland, carries a certain quantum of these linguists: hence the many terms for the same things that we discover emanating from these people. Mixtures, revolutions, additions, and changes, are ever taking place. At one time, when it is meant we hould "take money out of our pockets," we are told to "down with the dust;" again, that we "fork out the blunt," or " table the needful," or "launch out the rhino," or "thimble the brinnels." What perplexity is here! Now, supposing this system to continue for many years, and many it has continued with the United States of America, what must be the result? Why, we shall hardly understand the meaning of one-tenth part of what is told us; and, indeed, if we could not guess, we should find it many times very difficult to "get along:" here then is the ruination of our classic English language already begun. It is nonsense to imagine that our authors will there live immortal in their native strains.'vol. ii. pp. 324--236.

We must conclude with this our notice of Mr. Mactaggart's amusing work. The information he has collected is, of a very useful character, and his volumes cannot fail of being read with considerable profit by any person, who is either proceeding to America, or who is desirous of becoming acquainted with the present condition of our colonies there. We trust, for the benefit of the country, and the speedy progress of the important works over which Mr. Mactaggart was appointed to preside, that his health will enable him to return, and pursue his further operations with that talent and vigour of which he is naturally possessed.

ART. XI.-Fridolin, translated from Schiller's Ballad of Fridolin into English verse. By J. W. Lake, with eight Illustrations from Retzsch. London: Ackerman and C. Tilt. 1829.

THE story which now engages our attention in a new shape, is, in the original, one of the most popular minor pieces of its celebrated

author. His countrymen, however, are probably indebted to him only for the form which he gave to it *.

We have, on a previous occasion, hinted at the models which Schiller judiciously and successfully emulated, (Vide Monthly Review for May, p. 32). His imitations were not of a literal and servile, but of an inventive character. He used Germanic and other traditions, which deserved the perpetuity his genius has conferred on them. The mere tale may have pre-existed, the incidents may not have originated in his own fertile imagination, but the delineation of particular scenes, and the descriptions of the feelings accompanying them, could have emanated only from a poet of a high order. Thus in Der Taucher (The Diver,) in which an anecdote in the Life of Robert, King of Sicily, is versified, there are passages worthy of any writer.

The raging of Charybdis, into which the bold swimmer plunges in search of the golden beaker the sovereign has thrown in, gives occasion to these picturesque and animated lines:

'Charybdis gave back bellowing

The waters she had been swallowing;
As with the noise of distant thunder
Her foaming womb was rent asunder.
It billows, it hisses, it seeths, and it roars,
As when water on burning forests showers;
To heaven the recking surges spray ;
Wave pushes wave in endless fray,
Exhaustless, teeming, full and free,
As would the sea bring forth a sea.
At length the wild force dies away,
And black amid the foaming spray,
And bottomless, as were it the path to hell,
A growing chasm absorbs the swell;
And down the murky tuneless yaun,

Eddying the rushing waves are drawn.'

We copy here of three versions that have appeared in our periodicals, the one-which we decidedly prefer to its present competitors +.

The praise of originality might be further justified, by quotations from the description which Schiller makes the youth give of the inhabitants of the hellish lakes,' that he had so bravely descended

to:

In swarthy mixture here they throng,
Or glide in grisly groups along:

Bottiger informs us, that it is an Alsatian story, which Schiller learnt when at Manheim.

+ We refrain from mentioning immediately the source of the citation, shrewdly suspecting that the whole will, ere long, be avowed and printed in an appropriate form, by a well-known and most able translator from the German language.

The sword-fish, the keen crocodile,
And the sea-serpent's sinuous file,

And grinning with their triple teeth at me,
Wide-throated sharks-hyænas of the sea.'

Highly as we, in common with the rest of the civilized world, think of the genius of Retzsch, we confess that we have our doubts as to his power of giving an adequate graphic representation of the scenes which these verses (and more besides in the original ballad) depict in words.

The 'Song of the Bell,' we are led to suppose, is one of the pieces that Retzsch will include among the promised Outlines to all the Narrative Poems.'

This most ingenious and beautiful poem is entirely of Schiller's invention. Workmen who are casting a bell describe all the events which are solemnized by its voice; the morning of birth, the wedding-day, fires and funerals; the hour of vespers, when it is the signal of repose and domestic quiet; times of danger and alarm, wars and seditions. The whole is finished with consummate care, and its measure, varying with the sentiment, is always harmonious and expressive.

It is known in England, through a paraphrastic version by Lord Gower, from another and closer one by Mr. Sotheby, and now by a third and fourth, which have recently appeared at Manchester+ and at Bath-of these last we may perhaps give a separate notice.

Mr. Thomas Carlyle, in his very admirable Life of Schiller,' justly says, that his Retter Toggenburg,' his 'Cranes of Ibycas, his Hero and Leander,' are among the most poetical and moving ballads to be found in any language.

They all await the hand of an English translator. We think it useful to mention this deficiency; and hoping that we may be read by some of our countrymen who have a thorough knowledge of the German language, as well as a command of our own, and who might undertake the task of transfusing these metrical Tales, we can mention an additional motive, which may not be stated in what we have previously written, though certainly implied. The chance of obtaining attention here, is doubled; many would read a version of any work which Retzsch has illustrated, or is to illustrate at some future time.

The desire of understanding the Sketches of the great artist, will induce those who are unable to construe the German explanations attached to the Outlines,' to welcome vernacular versions of the poems themselves.

The Fight with the Dragon,' is, to the best of our knowledge,

* In the collection of poems edited by Joanna Baillie.

+ In Specimens of the German Lyric Poets,' published by Messrs. Longman and Co., and R. Robinson, Manchester.

the only one of Schiller's smaller poems, besides Fridolin, that has yet obtained the advantage of being illustrated by the masterly designs of Retzsch; both have been skilfully copied by Mr. Henry Moses; and were accompanied by translations from the hand of Mr. J. P. Collier, which are faithful, and free from affectation. The appearance of a new version of Fridolin, after a lapse of three years, with miniature copies of the original engravings, small in bulk and in price, bearing moreover the names of two most respectable London booksellers, will probably extend its circulation; and as it will thus come in the way of all Englishmen who have any taste for the fine arts, to read the couplets for the sake of understanding the drift of the plates to which they are annexed we are warranted in entering into a comparison of the two versions with each other, and especially with the original; which the earlier translator has very properly printed opposite to his own rendering of its respective portions. The story is told in a few

words :

Fridolin, a page at the court of Count Savern, is a graceful, good, and reverentially attached servant of the Countess, his master's lady. Robert, the huntsman, maliciously and falsely insinuates to his rash and credulous master, that the page has culpable aspirations. The Count rides to the iron foundry, near his palace, and orders the warders to throw instantly into their hottest furnace, the first person whom he shall send, enquiring, "if they have executed their master's orders." The Count having returned, next commands the page to go to the iron foundry with these words. Fridolin, however, before he proceeds, waits on his mistress, who requests him to attend church, hear the holy mass, and offer up prayers for her and her son (who was in bad health) as well as for himself. Fridolin not only obeys this order, but acts as sacristan to the priest, and he remains consequently till after the whole of the service is ended. The impatient Count (who thought that the destined doom of the page was ere now completed) to make assurance doubly sure, sends Robert, the huntsman, to the forge to enquire whether the master's orders are obeyed. Whereupon he is seized and mercilessly thrown into the furnace. Fridolin, soon after arriving, is told that the Count's orders are performed.. He returns to the palace, and quite unconscious of its import, repeats the answer of the Warders. The Count is surprised at seeing the page; he asks anxiously for Robert, but Fridolin declares that he has not met him either on the plain or in the wood. Savern, thunderstruck, exclaims that heaven has judged the matter; he leads Fridolin to the Countess, and commends him to her especial favour, seeing that he is guiltless, and shielded by heaven from harm.

Not long subsequent to the first publication of Fridolin, it became so great a favourite throughout Germany, that it was converted into a five-act play by Holbein, the director of the theatre at Prague; and during the fifteen years that followed, it was

represented on most of the continental stages with great success. It was also set to music by C. F. Weber, master of the chapel at Berlin, and in this shape it was extremely popular. Perhaps some of our English playwrights will ultimately (if the present dearth of native dramas continue) avail themselves of these alreadyexisting plays, prepare appropriate scenery, and delight London audiences by the representation of characters and incidents that are both new and interesting.

Our immediate business is with Mr. Lake's "translation" of the ballad, which we might seem to have forgotten: in apparent anticipation of critical censure from his glorious unfaithfulness to his original, this gentlemen inserts in his preface these apologetic lines. "The translator is aware that his version of Schiller's beautiful ballad is totally inadequate to the original; at the same time he has no hesitation in asserting, that it is easier to render an epic poem from one language into another, and with more accuracy, justice, and spirit, than to give a good and correct idea of a simple native ballad in a foreign tongue.' If this be true, the merit of those who have rendered with fidelity Spanish, German, and other ballads into English, is greatly enhanced! What must be said of Herder, who has vernacularized nearly all the good ballad literature of Europe! This was doubtless a very great, and very laudable achievement, but not, we think, so wonderful as the rendering all the good epics from Homer to Milton would have been. Mr. Lake continues his defence in the shape of an interrogation. "Would it be possible in a stranger dialect to do any thing like justice to our own inimitable ballads of "Chevy Chace," "the Children in the Wood," &c. The answer is obvious, and the reason also. Besides, as this work " is more particularly devoted to the arts, the reader perhaps will be more lenient in regard to its literary disqualifications, which, like the dialogue and rhymes of many modern operas, may be graciously deemed of minor importance."

This last may be a reason with journals occupied mainly with the fine arts, for abstaining from animadversion upon the rhimes' of Mr. J. W. Lake, but as our work is more particularly devoted to literature,' as it is our duty to hinder the spread of any unworthy notions of any great writer, we shall proceed to expose the sophistry and irrelevance of the defence just quoted. We do not complain so much of the inadequacy, as of the utter infidelity of his version, his capacious omissions, and his unpardonable additions to the poem; and we are indignant at the degradation which Schiller incurs, when false, feeble, and partial copies of his works are made for the purpose of explaining pretty miniature copies of the truly great performance of the German artist.

We begin with the first verse of this professed translation :

'In beauty's train was never met

A boy of more engaging mien,