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pleaded alsó; and the felt it her duty to sacrifice every
extinguished feeling. Who can conceive and explain the mutability of the human heart? She who had recently lamented with much bitterness the imprudence of her vow, now applauded herself for having traced it, read it with pride, and renewed it with enthusiasm. This illusion could not long endure; but it left at least in lady Clarendon a determination of fulfilling in all their extent the duties, which she had imposed upon herself. She quitted the cabinét, intent on answering the unhappy Sainville in a manner that should irrevocably take from him all hope. She passed into the parlour, and with a sigh took the pen. She wrote; but her tears soon eifaced the falsehood which the traced with such difficulty. She collected all her strength; The began again ; she could not find the expressions which she wanted ; those which offered themselves were either too harsh or too much softened. She again reflected; but at length she became weary of employing herself, mufed profoundly, and dreamed only of her love.
Her reply, and her whole conduct, were intended to deprive Sainville of all hope; and yet her affection for hím was evident. Business called him to Paris; they corresponded; and, in one of her letters, lady Clarendon mentioned the poflibility of his being married to another; he was offended at this hint: the society of other women only increased his love of her; and he was miserable. The minister fent him on public business to England. He visited the places where she had refided; from her fervants, from her friends, he received such accounts as still raised her in his esteem; but he found her, vow the subject of prints, and heard it loudly extolled. He repaired to the tomb of lord Clarendon; and, convinced that not only religious awe would prevent her from violating it, but the opinion of the world also, he returned disconfolate to France. Yet, when he saw Constance, he could not abandon hope; he made one effort to decide his fate; and, when she perfifted in adhering to her vow, he suddenly departed from his home. Letters from the baron and from Constance were sent to him, and he still corresponded with them. His return was announced ; but his physician intimated the alarming state of his health, and even of his intellect. This intelligence deeply affected Constance; the baron pleaded for his friend'; her own heart
thing to the desire of preserving his life.
At the chateau of Sainville, Constance expected his return. Suddenly the heard the found of rural music : at the same instant a servant entered in haste, crying out, “it is the joyful band of our villagers, preceding monsieur
le marquis !"-" Heavens! is he arrived!”--- Yes, madame, he is in the avenue.” “ Good God! (faid the baron, looking at Constance), you are ill”_ No, (fhe replied), the effect of joy can never be mournful-run, my friend, to meet him.” The delightea baron rapidly defcended the stairs; and, on entering the court, the first object which met his fight was Sainville, enveloped in a great cloke, and alighting from a carriage. The baron threw himself into the arms of his friend ; and the marquis, embracing him with a melancholy air, faid, “I must speak to you immediately.” The baron led him into a closet in which lady Clarendon was; then, embracing him again, faid, “ In what a state do you return, how pale ! how thin! cruel that you are—you have been suffering, and without me!—but prepare yourself for a revolutionhappy revolution Constance is here:"2" 0 Heaven! I cannot see her at this moment; hear me first.”_" No-it is Constance who must be heard. I tell you, my friend, you have reached the termination of your sufferings." 6 God! what do you let me suppose ?-speak-what senseless hope do you conceive for me?”_" it is well-founded, Appear, Constance! come and restore life to your happy lover.” Saying these words, the baron retired. A door opened suddenly; and lady Clarendon, with a timid and tottering pace, and a countenance fuffused with tears, advanced towards Sainville, who stuod motionless with astonishment. Extending her hand, the said, “ all your fufferings and mine are at an end, if your happiness depends upon me.” Juft heaven, what do I hear you love me! you have been able to facrifice your fcruples for me !"-" I have-love at last has conquered, or rather has annihilated, my remorse, My destiny is united to yours.--You grow pale-there is grief in your countenance O God, what is the cause of it ?"
is Where am I? (cried Sainville), avoid me! abandon a wretch who'no longer knows himself!"-" Great God! how wild--what a horrible transport ! oh, Sainville, recover your senses, recover your reason !"-". O that it were entirely torn from me!!recollect Conftance-Constance, who gives herself to you !"--Oh! (replied Sainville, with a collected voice), to 'what a dreadful abyss have you led me ftep by step? Dut do not deceive yourself: it is compassion, and not love, that determines you."-" You deltrey me (replied Constance). Ah, Sainville! when I sacrifice to you my duty and my reputation, can you misunderstand the imperious feeling which guides me !".--At last (faid Sainville), the measure is full! know then the horror of my lot! not contented with takirig from me all hope, you dared to
doubt my heart. Weil! a dreadful, an irrevocable vow has for ever fettered my liberty. I left you I went to Malta---and this cross (continued he, throwing aside his cloke) will inform you of the rest !”
(There are sentiments which cannot be described, because they are as rapid as thought, and are composed of many contrary emotions. Constance felt at once the delight of receiving, froin an adored object, the most affecting proof of paffion, and che grief which a sacrifice must cost her, that for ever deprived her lover of all hope of happiness. But, notwithstanding the heart-rending regret excited by love and gratitude, the felt at the same tiine a kind of joy in finding herself freed from the necessity of violating her firit vow : it seemed to her as if an abyss had closed under her feet; and her foul, violently agitated by different emotions, blessed providence in the midst of its alarms.'
These emotions, however, were too powerful for lady Clarendon ;. for they occafioned a fever which proved fatal to her.
To an English reader there is something ridiculous in the idea of engraving the vow upon her husband's tomb; but this, perhaps, will not be felt by a foreigner; and, to strengthen the effect of a vow that she was fo tempted to violate, publicity was necessary. We can' only object to the novel as too distresling, as inflicting pain. But young readers will not object to this : they require to be Itrongly affected ; and, to all who can find delight in imzginary distress, we recommend this production.
Die Savoyardische Familie. Riga. 1997.
The Savoyard Family. 8vo. Imported by Escher. SOME Savoyards are driven from their residence by the irruption of the French into their country. A young lady of this family ardentiy loves a colonel, with whom the became acquainted, when he rescued her from the danger to which she was exposed by the intractability of a horte. The officer, in due time, adresies her in form; is accepted by her friends; is attacked on a jourgey by robbers, drea:fully wounded, and, on his recovery, carried by the French to the castle of Ham, in Picardy. The lady, in the mean time, is in despair : but he is wonderfully re
leased from the place of his confinement; and the history 'concludes, à l'ordinaire, with the nuptials of the happy pair.
This piece has little merit; and we do not recommend it as worthy of translation,
FE du of
The writers of the republic keep the press in constant employment. Original productions, translations, and new editions of old works, are lavished upon the public. Some articles, almost wholly of the first of these descriptions, we proceed to announce.
Nouveau Spectacle de la Nature, contenant des Notions claires et précises, et des Détails intéresfans, &c. A New Display of Nature, involving clear and precise Notions, and interesting Details, with regard to every Object with which Mankind ought to be acquainted; by A. F. Chea, vignard, 2.vols. 8vo. Paris, 1798.-From the history of the creation, the author proceeds to a description of the heavenly bodies, to an investigation of the nature of light and heat, of the changes of leafons, &c. He then gives an account of the globe that we inhabit, and mentions, the changes which have taken place on the surface of the earth. He describes the chief productions of the animal, vegetable, and mineral kingdoms; and concludes with a view of universal morality. The work may be useful, but it is not the performance of a profound philofopher.
Nouveaux Principes, &c. New Principles of Geology, by P. Bertrand. Diffatisfied with the opinions both of an cient and modern philosophers, respecting the disputable science of geology, M. Bertrand, not without ability, combat's the theories of many writers, particularly that of his countryman M. de la Metherię.
Nouvelle Mécanique des Mouvemens de l'Homme et des Animaux. New Mechanism of the Motions of. Men and other Animals. Carcassonne. This is a curious work, in which M. Barthez enters into a variety of anatomical, physiological, and philosophical details and inquiries, relative to the origin and nature of all kinds of bodily mo. tion,
La Géometrie, &c. The Geometry of the Compass, Paris.--We have here a translation of an ingenious work, from thc Italian of Mascheroni.
Effai sur l'Histoire des Fourmis de la France. Effay on French Ants, by P. A. Latreille, 8vo. Brive.--This production affords a strong.proof of the diligence and accuracy of the writer,
Dictionnaire des Termes Latins, &c. A Dictionary of Latin Terms used in Botany, 8vo. Paris.—This vocabulary is not sufficiently copious.
Histoire des Plantes d'Europe, &c. History of European Plants, or Elements of Practical Botany, by J. E. Gilibert, 2 vols. 12mo. Lyons. -The Linnæan mode of clafsification is followed by M. Gilibert; and the work, upon the whole, is well executed.
Mémoires de Paul Jones. Memoirs of Paul Jones. Paris.We are informed, that these memoirs were written by the adventurer himself, and translated under his eye by M. André, by whom they are now published. They exhibit an air of lively frankness, and will interest many readers."
Campagnes des Français pendant la Révolution. · ACcount of the Campaigns of the French during the Revom lution, by A. Liger. Vol. I. Blois.-- This volume contains only the history of the campaign of the year 1792. • Independance absolue, &c. The Absolute Independence of the United States of America, 8vo. Paris.---T'he chief object of this publication is to manifest the expediency of a complete reconciliation between the French and the Americans.
Voyages d'Antenor, &c. Travels of Antenor in Greece and in Afia, 3 vols. 8vo. Paris.-M. Lautier pretends, that this is a translation of a Greek manuscripts found amidst the ruins of Herculaneum: but that is a mere fiction. The work is an imitation of the Travels of Anacharfis, to which, though not deftitute of merit, it is greatly inferior.
HOLLAND. Oden en Gedichten. Odes and other Poems, by Rhynvis Feith, 2 vols. 8vo. Amsterdam, 1797.--Some dramatic pieces by M. Feith have been well received ; and the poems here announced will enfure him a conţiņuance of the public regard.
GE R M A N Y.Sittliche Gemälde. Moral Pictures, by Henning. Sva. New Strelitz, 1798.-The reader, we think, will be amused and instructed with these reprefentations.