A strong foothold was first obtained by the French idiom at the conquest, though it had been previously used in England, and was more firmly planted and enlarged by the very conquests of Edward III. and his heroic son over their rivals. But those victories, while they excited the national pride, finally prepared the way for the supremacy of the native tongue; a supremacy it not long thereafter secured, when it was rendered more copious and beautiful by the intermixture of other idioms. The first step towards this far more important victory was made in the grant, by this very monarch, of the use of the insular idiom in civil pleadings, though the judgments of the courts thereon were still rendered in French. It is a curious fact, that the very act of parliament of 1362, which directed this innovation, was itself drawn up in the foreign tongue. Our author says, "that it required the scourges of Heaven to combine with the laws in extinguishing the language of the conquerors"-for it was only after the great plague of 1349 that the French tongue began to be disused generally. The acts of parliament continued till a much later period to be drawn up in French-the first English act of the house of commons being in the year 1425; and it was not until 1483, under Richard III., that parliament engrossed and promulgated the bills in English-an example which has not since been departed from.: The Reformation, most fortunately, affords the noble author another grand incident in his sketch of the progress of English literature, and he makes the most of it. Its important influence upon the cause of letters in England he does not very clearly make out; but it gives him what he wanted--a glorious occasion for an episode. The important questions he propounds are-How was it brought about?--what were its consequences to the human mind, to literature, to arts, to governments? These grave questions are skimmed over in a lively, playful manner, and the subject affords room for much pleasant anecdote, and the display, on the part of the author, of his attachment to the Roman catholic faith. He takes occasion, too, to discuss Luther's character and views: his account of them containing some truth mixed up, of course, with much error. His chief aim in discussing Luther's doctrines appears to be (and it is rather an extraordinary design for a peer of France) to show that the protestant religion was intended only for princes and gentlemen, and altogether unsuited to the common people. With them he seeks to render it unpopular; and, as respects the former, he tries to make them ashamed of their faith, because its originator-or, we should say, reformer-was the son of a peasant. "Martin Luther, the creator of a religion of princes and gentlemen, was the son of a peasant. He tells his own story in a few words, with that impudent humility which springs from the success of a whole life. "I have often conversed with Melanchton, and related to him the minutest details of my life. I am the son of a peasant; my father, grandfather, and great grandfather, were mere peasants. My father had removed to Mansfeld, where he became a miner: I was born there. That I should in after-life graduate as a bachelor, a doctor, &c., was not in my destiny. Have I not surprised many people by becoming a monk? and afterwards by exchanging the brown cowl for one of another kind? This greatly distressed my father, who fell ill in consequence. I next. fell to loggerheads with the pope-married a nun who had run away from convent, and have had many children by her. Who could ever have read this in the stars? Who could have foretold that such things were to happen?' "Born at Eisleben, on the 10th of November, 1483-sent, at the early age of six years, to the school at Eisenach-Luther earned his bread by singing from door to door. I also,' said he, 'was a poor beggar, and have received bread at the doors of houses.' Ursula Schweickard, a charitable lady, took pity on him, and paid for his education; in 1501, he entered the university of Erfurt. A poor and obscure boy, he opened that new era which commences with him-an era which so many changes and calamities were to render imperishable in the memory of men." Vol. I. pp. 149, 150. His account of Luther contains nothing very new-nothing, we mean, furnished by Chateaubriand himself. What he says of him is chiefly extracted from the late work of Michelet, coupled with flying remarks of his own. The subject, however, gives him occasion to speak of Roman catholicism at the present day, and its prospects in the United States. He contends that his faith is favourable to the liberty of the peoplethat this is indeed its evangelical aliment; while protestantism encourages aristocracy, and imparts no impetus to political freedom. We think that it would be exceedingly easy to show the fallacy of these assertions, but this is neither the time nor the place for discussions of the sort. Our main object is to let Chateaubriand speak for himself, merely expressing our dissent where we do not agree in sentiment; and therefore, in justice to him, we shall extract what he says upon this head. "Christianity commenced among the plebeian, poor, and ignorant classes of mankind. Jesus addressed himself to the lowly, and they rallied round their master. Faith gradually ascended to the upper ranks, and at length found its way to the imperial throne. Christianity was thus catholic or universal. The religion styled catholic set out from the lowest, and finally reached the highest step of the social ladder. The popedom was only the tribunate of nations, when the political age of Christianity arrived. "Protestantism followed an opposite course. It was first introduced among the heads of the body politic-among princes and nobles, priests and magistrates, scholars and men of letters-and it slowly descended to the inferior conditions of life. The impress of these two origins remains distinctly marked in the two communions. "The reformed communion has never been so popular as the catholic faith. Being of princely and patrician origin, it does not sympathize with the multitude. Protestantism is equitable and moral, punctual in the discharge of duty; but its charity partakes more of reason than of tenderness; it clothes the naked, but does not warm them in its bosom; it shelters the poor beneath its wings, but does not dwell and weep with them in their most abject haunts; it relieves, but does not feel for misfortune. The monk and the priest are the companions of the poor man: poor like himself, they have for their companions the bowels of Jesus Christ. Rags, straw, disease, and dungeons, excite in them no disgust, no repugnance; charity imparts a perfume to indigence and misery. The catholic priest is the successor of the twelve lowly men who preached Christ raised from the dead; he blesses the body of the deceased beggar, as the sacred remains of a being beloved by God and raised to eternal life. The protestant pastor forsakes the beggar on his death-bed-to him the grave is not an object of religious veneration; he has no faith in those expiatory prayers by which a friend may deliver a suffering soul. In this world the minister does not rush into the midst of flames or pestilence; he reserves to his own family that affectionate care which the priest of Rome bestows on the great human family. "In a religious point of view, the reformation is leading insensibly to indifference, or the complete absence of faith: the reason is, that the independence of the mind terminates in two gulfs-doubt and incredulity." "Though the English colonies have formed the plebeian republic of the United States, yet those states do not owe their liberty to protestantism. They were not emancipated by religious wars; they rebelled against the oppression of the mother country, which, like themselves, was protestant. Maryland, a catholic and very populous state, made common cause with the others, and now most of the western states are catholic. The progress of this communion in the United States of America exceeds belief. There it has been invigorated in its evangelical aliment-popular liberty—whilst other communions decline in profound indifference." "An attentive examination of facts must lead to the conclusion that protestantism has not promoted popular freedom. It has given to mankind philosophic liberty, but not political liberty. Now, the former liberty has no where led to the attainment of the latter, except in France, the true land of catholicism. How happens it that Germany, naturally philosophic and already armed with protestantism, has not advanced a single step towards political liberty in the eighteenth century; whilst France, of not very philosophic temperament, and under the yoke of catholicism, gained during that century all her liberties?" "The man of theory has a sovereign contempt for that which is practical. He looks down from the height of his lofty doctrine, judges men and things, meditates on the general laws of society, directs his bold enquiries even into the mysteries of the divine nature, and feels and thinks himself independent because only his body is chained. To think every thing, and do nothing, is at once the character and the virtue of philosophic genius. The philosopher wishes to see mankind happythe sight of liberty charms him; but he does not care to see it through two windows of a prison. Like Socrates, protestantism may be said to have called minds into existence; but, unfortunately, the intelligences which it has ushered into life have hitherto been only beautiful slaves. "Be it observed, however, that most of these reflections on the reformed religion are intended to apply only to the past: the protestants of the present day are not, any more than the catholics, what they formerly were. The protestants have gained in imagination, in poetry,in eloquence, in reason, in liberty, and in genuine piety, what the latter have lost. The antipathies between the different communions no longer exist. The children of Christ, from whatever line they spring, unite at the foot of Mount Calvary, the common birth-place of the family. The licentiousness and the ambition of the court of Rome have ceased; and the vatican is now distinguished by the virtues of the early bishops, patronage of the arts, and the majesty of recollections. Every thing now tends to restore catholic unity; with a few concessions on either side, concord would soon be established. To be enabled to shine forth in renewed glory, Christianity wants only a superior genius, coming at the proper time and place. The Christian religion is entering upon a new era; like institutions and manners, it is undergoing the third transformation. It is ceasing to be political, according to the old social mechanism; it is advancing to the great principle of the gospel-natural democratic equality between man and man, as it is acknowledged before God. Its flexible circle extends with knowledge and liberty, whilst the cross for ever marks its immovable centre." Vol. I. pp. 191-205. The reckless assertion of the above paragraphs may excite the surprise of the reader, but their ingenious sophistry will but induce the smile of contempt. Our author hastens on till he arrives at Shakspeare. His notice of Surrey, More, and Spenser, is miserably defective. Upon Henry VIII. (whom he is pleased to consider one among the list of the protestant literati of England) he rests for a few minutes-being a fine theme for eloquent invective. A striking sketch of the tyrant is presented in these lines: "Henry VIII. wrote poetry as well as prose. He played on the flute and the spinett. He set to music ballads for his court and masses for his chapel, and he left behind him a motett, an anthem, and many scaffolds. He was certainly a troubadour of most imaginative genius. This man, who employed a wooden image of the Virgin as part of the materials for the pile at which the confessor of Catharine of Arragon was burnt; who summoned before his tribunal the dead body of St. Thomas of Canterbury, tried it and condemned it to death, in spite of the legal maxim, non bis in idem; who caused fagots to be bound on the backs of five Dutch anabaptists, and regaled his eyes with the spectacle of five moving auto-da-fés.;-he had a fine subject for a romantic sonnet when, from the summit of a solitary bill in Richmond Park, he saw the signal which was transmitted from the tower of London, announcing the execution of Anne Boleyn. What delicious satisfaction he must have enjoyed at that moment! The axe had severed the delicate neck, and stained with blood the beautiful hair, on which the poet king had lavished his fatal caresses." Vol. I. pp. 217, 218. At the name of Shakspeare he stops, "in order to consider him at his leisure, as Montesquieu says of Alexander." For him he professes extreme admiration; and yet, from certain VOL. XXI.-NO. 41. 6 opinions and expressions he hazards, we are inclined to suspect (what is not at all unnatural in a foreigner) that he does not understand him. The introduction of his subject is well managed. "Spenser was the favourite poet of the reign of Elizabeth. The author of Macbeth and Richard III. was eclipsed by the dazzling rays of the Shepherd's Calendar,' and the 'Faerie Queene.' Did Montmorency, Biron, and Sully, who were by turns ambassadors from France to the courts of Elizabeth and James I., ever hear of a strolling actor, who performed sometimes in his own plays, and sometimes in those of other authors? Did they ever pronounce the name of Shakspeare, so barbarous to French ears? Did they ever suspect that there was around him a glory which would outlive their honours, their pomp, their rank? Yet the mountebank player-the representative of Hamlet's Ghost-was the great phantom, the shade of the middle age, who rose upon the world like the evening star, just at a moment when the middle age had sunk among the dead; that extraordinary interval which Dante opened, and which Shakspeare closed. "Whitelocke, a contemporary of Milton, speaking in his 'Historical Sketch' of the author of 'Paradise Lost,' designates him as 'a certain blind man, named Milton, Latin secretary to the parliament.' Molière, the player, acted his own Pourceaugnac-as Shakspeare, the buffoon, personated his own Falstaff. The author of the Tartuffe, the comrade of poor Mondorge, changed his illustrious name of Poquelin for the humble name of Molière, that he might not disgrace his father, the upholsterer. "Avant qu'un peu de terre, Furent des sots esprits à nos yeux rebutés. Thus, the veiled travellers who come, from time to time, and seat themselves at our tables, are treated by us merely as common guests: we know not their immortal nature until the day of their disappearance. On quitting this world, they become transfigured, and say to us, as the messenger of heaven did to Tobias-'I am one of the seven which go in and out before the glory of the Holy One.'' Vol. I. pp. 229-231. Shakspeare, however, is not his literary hero: Milton sustains this part. The former came into competition with the dramatic authors of the viscount's own country, and he was unwilling to yield to a stranger the palm. With Milton there could be no rivalry; his grand work stood unique in its design and character-alone in its glory. Republican and protestant though he was, of his writings the French catholic peer speaks with unbounded praise: no language is too strong for his merits. In all this we agree with the writer, but we protest against the depreciation of Shakspeare-for such we consider the lowering of him to the level of the French dramatists. Chateaubriand contends that while Shakspeare is admired theoretically in England, in practice the case is quite otherwise. And he founds his argument upon the fact of his plays having |