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studies in France, and it is not long since they were interrupted. We have retraced the government and the discipline of the colleges where a happy youth was educated, far from the seductions of society, and the greater part of these colleges are still deserts. We have recalled the servičes rendered by that university so celebrated and so venerable, its ancient honours and that spirit of good fellowship which perpetuated the fame of the useful knowledge taught, and of the masters by whom it was commu. nicated, and they are no more; all have perished in the general wreck of every thing great 'and useful. The quarters, even, where the university of Paris flourished, seem as in mourning for their destruction; the cause of their celebrity gone, no longer are new inhabitants perpe. tually resorting to them; the population has moved into other places to exhibit there samples of other manners. Where are now the strict educations which prepared the soul to fortitude and tenderness? Where are those mo. dest, yet well-informed young men, who united the inge. nuous minds of infancy with the solid qualities that grace and adorn the man? Where, in short, is the youth of France ?-A new generation has succeeded. .....

" Who can recount the complaints and reproaches which are daily uttered against this new race. Alas ! they grew up almost unknown to their fathers, in the midst of civil discords, and they are absolved by the pub. lic calamities. Every thing was wanting to them, instruction, remonstrance, good example, the mild treatment of the paternal roof, which disposes the child to virtuous sentiments, and gives to his lips a smile that can never be effaced. Yet for such losses they evince no regret, they cast no look of sadness behind them ; we see them wandering about the public places, and filling the theatres as if they were only reposing after a long life of toil and labour. Ruins surround them, and they pass before those ruins without experiencing the curiosity of an ordinary travel. ler; they have already forgotten those times of eternal memory.

“Generation, new indeed, which will bear a distinct and singular character, which separates the old times from the times to come. It will not have to transmit those traditions which are an honour to families, nor those decorums which are the guarantees of public manners, nor those customs which form the great bonds of society. They march to an unknown goal, dragging with them our recollections, our decorums, our manners, and customs; the old men find themselves still greater strangers in their country in proportion as their children are multiplied on the earth....

“ At present the young man, thrown, as by a shipwreck, upon the entrance of his career, vainly contemplates the extent of it. He produces nothing but ungratified wishes, and projects devoid of consistence. He is deprived of recollection, and he has no courage to form hopes; his heart is withered and he has never had any passions; as he has not filled the different epochs of life, he feels always within himself something imperfect which will never be finished. His taste, his thoughts, by an afflicting contrast, belong at once to all ages, without presenting either the charm of youth, or the gravity of ripened age. His whole life bears the appearance of one of those stormy years, the progress of which is marked with sterility, and in which the course of the seasons and the order of nature seem wholly inverted. In this confusion the most desirable faculties are turned against themselves, youth is a prey to the most extraordinary gloom, or to the false sweets of a wild and irregular imagination, to a proud contempt of life, or to an indifference which arises from despair. One great disease shows itself under a thousand different forms. Even those who have been fortunate enough to escape this contagion of the mind, confess all the violence that they have suffered. They have leaped hastily over the first stages, and take their seats already among the aged, whom they astonish by an anticipated maturity, but without finding any thing to compensate what they have missed in passing over their youth.

Perhaps some among these may be induced occasionally to visit those asylums of science which they were never permitted to enter. Then, seeing the spacious enclosures, where are heard anew the sounds of classic sports and triumps, casting their eyes over the lofty walls where still may

be read the half effaced names of some of the great men of France, they may feel bitter regrets arise in their souls, accompanied by desires even more painful than the regrets. They demand even now, that education which produces fruits for a whole life, and which nothing can compensate. They demand even those pains and chagrins of childhood, which leave behind such tender recollections—recollections so sweet to a mind of sensibility. But they demand, alas, in vain. After hav. ing consumed fifteen years, that great portion of human life, in silence, and yet in the midst of the revolutions of empires, they have only survived the companions of their own age;. survived it may almost be said themselves, to approach that term where irrecoverable losses alone are to be expected. Thus they must always be consigned to secret mournings which can admit of no consolation, they must remain exposed to the examination of another generation who encompass them like centinels, for ever crying to them to turn aside from the fatal path in which they have lost themselves."

This passage alone will suffice to justify the encomi. ums we have pronounced upon the life of Rollin. Here we find beauties of the highest description expressed with eloquence, and some of those thoughts which never occur

but among great writers. We cannot too warmly encourage the author to abandon himself to his genius. Hitherto a timidity natural to true talent has made him seek subjects not of the most elevated kind, but he ought per. haps to endeavour to quit this temperate zone, which can fines his imagination within too narrow bounds. One easily perceives throughout the life of Rollin, that he has every where sacrificed some of the riches he possesses. In speaking of the good rector of the University, he condemned himself to temperance and moderation ; he feared that he should wound his modest virtues in shedding too great a lustre over them. One might say that he always kept in view that law of the ancients, which only permitted the praises of the Gods to be sung to the most grave, and the sweetest tones of the lyre.

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FOR some time past the Journals have announced to us Works of Louis XIV. This title shocked many persons who still attach some value to precision of terms and decorum of language. They observed that the term Works could only be applied with propriety to an author's own productions, when he presents them himself to the public; that this author besides must belong to the ordinary ranks of society, and that he must have written not merely Historical Memoirs but works of science or literature; that in any case a king is not an author by profession, consequently he never publishes Works.

It is true that, going back to antiquity, the early Ro. man emperors cultivated letters; but these emperors were only simple citizens before they were raised to the purple. Cæsar was merely the commander of a legion when he wrote his History of the Conquest of Gaul, and the com. mentaries of the captain have since contributed to the glory

of the emperor. If the Maxims of Marcus Aurelius to this day reflect credit on his memory, Claudius and Nero drew upon themselves the contempt of the Roman people for having aspired to the honours of poets and literati.

In the Christian monarchies where the royal dignity

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