equal the former in rapidity, selection, and interest, and none surpass the latter in erudition, good sense, and simplicity. The same Abbé prefers the History of the Council of Trent, by the well known Father Paolo Sarpi, to all the histories compiled in his own language, and represents it as a model of narration, argument, and observation. We may subscribe to the opinion of this judicious critic, so well versed in the literature of his own country, without the least hesitation, and extend to Italian history in general the superiority which he allows to one only, and one who is not the first of Italian historians, either in eloquence or in impartiality.

In one species of history indeed, the Italians justly claim the honour both of invention and of pre-eminence, and this honour, not France only but England must, I believe, concede without contest. I allude to critical biography, a branch of history in the highest degree instructive and entertaining, employed in Italy at a very early period, and carried to the highest perfection by the late learned Tiraboschi. In French, few productions of the kind exist: perhaps the panegyrical discourses pronounced in the French Academy border nearest upon it; but these compositions, though recommended by the names of Fontenelle, Massillon, Flechier, Marmontel, and so many other illustrious academicians, are too glittering, too artificial, and refined, as well as too trivial and transient in their very nature, to excite much interest, or to fix the attention of the critic. In our own language Johnson's Lives of the Poets present a fair object of comparison, as far as the plan extends, and perhaps in point of execution may be considered by many of my readers as masterpieces of style, of judgment, and even of eloquence, equal, if not superior, to the Italian. But as the narrow sphere of the

English biographer sinks into insignificance, when compared to the vast orbit of the Italian historian, so their works bear no proportion, and cannot of course be considered as objects of comparison. With regard to the execution, Johnson, without doubt, surprises and almost awes the reader, by the weight of his arguments, by the strength of his expression, and by the uniform majesty of his language; but I know not whether the ease, the grace, and the insinuating familiarity of Tiraboschi may not charm us more, and keep up our attention and our delight much longer.

In one branch of literature France may have the advantage over most modern languages, I mean in theological composition: and this advantage she owes to her peculiar circumstances; I might say with more propriety, to her misfortunes. The Calvinistic opinions prevalent in Geneva had been propagated at an early period of the reformation in the southern provinces of France, and in a short space of time made such a progress, that their partisans conceived themselves numerous enough to cope with the established Church, and perhaps powerful enough to overturn it. They first manifested their zeal by insults and threats, then proceeded to deeds of blood and violence, and at length involved their country in all the horrors of civil war, anarchy, and revolution. In the interim, the pen was employed as well as the sword, and while the latter called forth all the exertions of the body, the former brought into action all the energies of the mind.

During more than a century, war and controversy raged with equal fury, and whatever the opinion of the reader may be upon the subject in debate, he will probably agree with me,

that Calvinism, defeated alike in the field of battle and in the nobler contest of argument, was compelled to resign the double palm of victory to the genius of her adversary. In the course of the debate, and particularly towards its close, great talents appeared, and much ingenuity and learning were displayed on both sides; till the respective parties seem to unite all their powers in the in the persons of two champions, Claude and Bossuet. Though nature had been liberal in intellectual endowments to both the disputants, and though all the means of art had been employed to improve the gifts of nature, yet the contest was by no means equal between them; and after having been worsted in every onset, the Elder at length sunk under the superiority of the Prelate. But, if the victim can derive any credit from the hand that fells it, Claude and Calvinism may boast that the illustrious Bossuet was alone capable, and alone worthy, to give the fatal blow that put an end at once to the glory, and almost to the existence of the party in France.

Bossuet was indeed a great man, and one of those extraordinary minds which at distant intervals seem as if deputed from a superior region, to enlighten and to astonish mankind. With all the originality of genius, he was free from its eccentricity and intemperance. Sublime without obscurity, bold yet accurate, splendid and yet simple at the same time, he awes, elevates, and delights his readers, overpowers all resistance, and leads them willing captives to join and to share his triumph. The defects of his style arise from the imperfection of his dialect; and perhaps, he could not have given a stronger proof of the energies of his mind, than in compelling the French language itself to become the vehicle of sublimity. His works

therefore, are superior to all other controversial writings in his own or in any other language.

In Italian there are, I believe, none of that description: there was no difference of opinion on the subject, and of course no controversy: a deficiency in their literature abundantly compensated by the absence of animosity, of hatred, of penal laws, and of insolence on one side, and on the other, of complaint, of degradation, and of misery.

To return to my first observation.-We have just reason to lament, that a language so inferior in every respect as French, should have been allowed to acquire such an ascendancy as to be deemed even in England a necessary accomplishment, and made in some degree an integral part of youthful education. If a common medium of communication between nations be necessary, as it undoubtedly is, it would have been prudent to have retained the language most generally known in civilized nations, which is Latin; especially as this language is the mother of all the polished dialects now used in Europe, has the advantage of being the clearest, the most regular, and the easiest, and moreover, was actually in possession at the very time when it pleased various courts to adopt, with the dress and other fopperies of France, its language also. Reason might reclaim against the absurdity of preferring a semi-barbarous jargon, to a most ancient, a most beautiful, and a most perfect language; but the voice of reason is seldom heard, and yet more seldom listened to at courts, where fashion, that is the whim of the monarch or of the favourite, is alone consulted and followed even ,in all its deformities and all its extravagancies.

But that which escaped the observation of the courtier ought to have attracted the attention of the minister, who might have discovered by reflection or by experience, the advantages which a negociator derives from the perfect knowledge of the language which he employs, and the extreme impolicy of conceding these advantages to our enemies. In order to form a just idea of the importance of this concession, we need only to observe the superiority which a Frenchman assumes, in Capitals where his language is supposed to be that of good company, such as Vienna, and particularly Petersburg, and contrast with that superiority, his humble appearance in London or in Rome, where he cannot pretend to such a distinction. In the former cities he feels himself at home, and considers himself as the first in rank, because the first in language; in the latter, the consciousness of being a foreigner checks his natural confidence and imposes upon him, however reluctant, the reserved demeanor inseparable from that character.

Now, in all diplomatic meetings, French is the language of discussion, and consequently, the French negociator displays his faculties with the same ease and with the same certainty of applause as in his own saloon, surrounded with a circle of friends at Paris. The English envoy on the contrary finds his natural reserve increased, and all his powers paralized by a sensation of inferiority in the use of the weapons which he is obliged to employ, and by a conviction that the eloquence of his adversary must triumph over his plain, unadorned, and probably ill-delivered statements. To this disadvantage we may, perhaps, attribute the observation so often repeated, that France recovers in the cabinet all she loses in the field: an obser