nister, who entertained a high respect for his merit. When the French Premier was weary of public affairs, he conversed with him on the subject of literature; and, on all occasions, he expressed his opinions with a degree of frankuess which the other had hitherto been but little accustomed to. It was to please him that he translated Suetonius into French, which was begun and competed in the space of two months. We lament to add, that it was immediately published, while still in an imperfect state; and as he had, by this time, increased the number of his enemies, in consequence of the boldness and severity of his criticisms, they took care to point out all its faults, and that too with an unexampled degree of bitterness. In Harpe, on the other hand, admitted all the errors attributed to him, with a degree of frankness which was but little expected, and this contributed not a little to obtain his pardon with the public.

In addition to this, he now added greatly to his former reputation by means of a drama, entitled" Melanie," respecting which Voltaire, D'Alembert, and most of the celebrated men of that age, had already raised the curiosity of the public. The moral of it was wholly directed against monastic institutions, and vows made at a period when the contracting party was incapable of judging as to the solemnity and extent of the engagement. The poet of Ferney wrote to him as follows on this subject: "You have all the philosophers and the ladies on your side, and, with such a recommendation, it is impossible to fail."

This prophecy was fully confirmed by the event; but, in the very zenith of his reputation, he was in danger of being sent to the Bastile, in consequence of some satirical verses against the Duke de Richelieu, a nobleman celebrated for his gallantries and debaucheries of all kinds, but whose influence at the court of Louis XV. a prince of a similar temperament, was such, as to have shut up one half of the men of letters in Paris, on bare suspicion, had he been so inclined! Voltaire on this, as on every other occasion, interposed his ægis, and preserved his friend.

Meanwhile the Elogy of Fenelon, which obtained the prize at the French Academy, conferred new reputation on the labours of La Harpe, and he pleased the philosophical party, by whom he had been constantly protected, in consequence of some sly attacks on the cha

racter of Bossuet. As D'Alembert was now in high credit with this body, he was at length certain that he would be admitted a member, and this consideration supported and enabled him to continue his labours.

On the accession of Louis XVI. M. Turgot, become one of the new ministers, took every opportunity of exhibiting a high degree of regard for the subject of this memoir, who was now busily occupied about hree different dramatic works, which were to point at three different objects. In the 66 Bremecides," he endeavoured to describe heroism and generosity; in "Jeanne de Naples," the fatal effects of the passions; and in "Menzikoff," the disgrace of a powerful minister, a disgrace the better calculated to obtain interest and attention, by being accompanied with a degree of resignation almost without a parallel in history. The last of these attracted such applause, that the young Queen became desirous to be present at the representation; and such was the effect of this trifling circumstance in a despotic country, that it put the adversaries of the author to silence!

Nearly at the same time, he obtained the long-expected chair of the French Academy, having succeeded Colardeau. From this moment his enemies became more reserved in their attacks, and he in his censures. M. Necker also, on his advancement to a high situation in the management of the finances, evinced the greatest respect for La Harpe: but it was to Calonne, with whom he had no manner of connexion, that he was indebted, about this period, for a pension.

After having distinguished himself by his criticisms in three different literary journals, all of which he rendered celebrated, M. de la Harpe at length determined to commence a "Cours de Littérature" at the Lyceum. In the capacity of a Professor, he accordingly read a course of lectures to the Parisians, both male and female, who were so captivated with his taste and talents, that this amusement not only became fashionable, but he himself obtained the appellation of "The French Quintilian

When the Revolution occurred, notwithstanding the loss of his pension, our author for some time adopted the principles of the reformers. During two whole years, he remained firm to the party that then triumphed; but he no sooner imagined that they had overstepped the boundaries at which they ought to have stopped, than he wrote against

them

them in the "Mercure." On this he was denounced, and obliged in some degree to retract, and that circumstance afterwards furnished a pretext for the most odious calumnies on the part of his enemies. In 1795, he was at length arrested, and imprisoned in the Luxembourg. By this time, a large proportion of those with whom he had been intimately connected had lost their lives on the scaffold, and the same fate appeared to be reserved for himself. La Harpe now be came melancholy, and was ready to fall into despair: on this he, who had hitherto distinguished himself as a man of let ters, and an academician, without paying any attention to the prevailing opinions relative to religion, determined to taste of the consolations of Christianity.

A pious female, with whom he had got acquainted during his confinement, is said to have first inspired him with this idea; and having advised him to seek for consolation in the Psalms of David, he was so charmed with then, that he immediately commenced a literary commentary, in which he pointed out their beauties. This was afte: wards converted into a Preliminary Discourse to the Translation of the Psalins, the first work in which he announced his conversion.

That event occasioned some noise; more especially as he informs his readers in one of the notes, that he was accustomed to obtain comfort in his affliction, by opening the Psalms, as if by accident, and looking at the first passage which occurred. In this, he at one particular period, not only found great consolation, but he says that he received from it a solution of all his difficulties.

He ac

On being released from confinement, De la Harpe entered the world quite a different man from what he was before, being now determined to support that cause with intrepidity, which he had embraced with so much a dour. cordingly.esolved thenceforward to dedicate his literary harangues, which were originally intended to form the taste of his auditors, to the defence of religion. Great labo and much attention were required, to give this direction to his 66 cours de littérature:" but notwithstand ing the multitude of obstacles that interposed, he in the space of a very few years completed that vast Circle of Literature, in which both ancients and moderns are judged and appreciated.

On his reassuming the chair at the Lyceum, he made a full, public, and

1

ample recantation, of his former opinions; but he was twice proscribed, and obliged to fly. During the latter of those persecutions, he obtained an asylum at a house but a few leagues distant from Paris, by the interposition of the pious female who had been the means of pro ducing the alteration in his religious opinions, while imprisoned at the Luxem bourg; and during this period of his life, he composed his celebrated pamphlet, entitled "Le Fanatisme dans la Langue revolutionnaire," which was read with an extraordinary degree of avidity, but, at the same time added not a little to the fury of his enemies.

After this, he entirely occupied his time with, "l'Apologie de la Religion," and perused and studied the Lives of the Saints, and other holy books, for the express purpose of deriving arguments from these sources, against the Philosophers and their writings. On ties occasion he must be allowed to have possessed one advantage, not enjoyed before by any of his predecessors, as he knew both the weak and the strong points of the doctrine he now combated; and indeed, according to his own expression, he had spent nearly the whole of his life in the enemy's camp."

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M. de la Harpe had always been industrious in his literary labours, and his aptitude for application appears to have increased during the period of his proscription. The chamber occupied by him overlooked a garden surrounded with very high walls, where he could walk whenever he was so disposed During the whole of the morning, he was accus tomed to write at a table near the window; and in the afternoon, he took the only recreation he permitted himself to enjoy this consisted solely in a solitary walk.

On his return to his apartment, he resigned himself to pious exercises, and concluded the evening by reading works analagous to those he was engaged on. This uniform and sedentary life did not in the least tire him; all the activity of his mind was occupied in that cause to which he had devoted himself; and the continual dangers to which he remained exposed, could not in the least alter that mental tranquillity so eminently enjoyed by him. He was often accustomed, indeed, to remark, that the epoch of his proscription proved the happiest portion of his life: his health, indeed, seemed to improve, and his friends flattered themselves that his career would still prove

4 R2

long

long and brilliant: but they were disappointed!

No sooner were the apprehensions of M de la Harpe dissipated, and he had returned to mix with the world, than all the flattering appearances of longevity were immediately dissipated. A number of infirmities, to which he had hitherto been a stranger, now shewed themselves; and he himself began to anticipate the melancholy catastrophe. Firmly convinced in bis own mind, that he could never better repair his former errors, than by a work calculated to enlighten the incredulous, he laboured with additional ardour at his Apo ogy for Religion, in which he had embraced a vast and extensive plan. He was often accustomed to observe, when speaking on this subject, that he could die without regret, provided he were but able to finish this work.

La Harpe had no occasion for these warnings to prepare himself for death, for he not only fu.filled all the duties of religion with the most minute exactitude, but even expiated his former mistakes, by means of a most rigorous penance. Several of his surviving friends have be held him at times, when he did not think himself observed, lying with his face towards the earth, and exhibit ing the most lively signs of a sincere repentance.

His last illness, which exhibited a complication of diseases, announced itself in a manner so as to demonstrate from the very first, that the termination would be fatal. No sooner did he perceive death inevitable, than his resiguation, amidst the most cruel sufferings, became equally instructive and affecting to those who surrounded him. His friends were astonished that,notwithstanding the impetuosityof his character, he was able to support the agonies of dissolution without a groan. But what still surprised them more, was the indifference which he affected for his own works; an indifference which not only extended to his literary, but even his religious productions. During the whole of his illness, he never once mentioned his "Apologie de la Religion," to which he had before attached such im⚫portance, but contented himself with merely exclaiming, a few days before his dissolution, "God has not permitted me to repair the evil I have committed."

At the approach of death, his agonies seemed to be somewhat alleviated; he also preserved his usual presence of mind,

and was still capable of conversing with his friends. His eyes, however, could no longer bear the light, and he was kept constantly shut up within the curtains of his bed. In this position he heard and understood every word that was uttered, and sometimes he himself would mention to his friends the cousolations which he derived from religion.

One of them remarks on this occasion," that no affectation of courage was observable in his discourse, which was characterized by an humbe resignation. The philosophers," adds he, endeavour to die in a theatrical manner; but Christians, on the other hand, are filled with reflexions of a nature superior to all human vanities."

M. de la Ilarpe resigned his life February 11, 1803, in the 64th year of his age.

His will, which was made at the beginning of his illness, contains a variety of legacies to his re ations and the poor, as well as his best wishes for the prosperity of France. On the evening before his demise, he made the following declaration, which we shall here transcribe, without any commentary whatsoever, leaving it entirely to the reader to decide relative to the religious opinions of this very extraordinary man:

"Having yesterday enjoyed the bappiness," says he, "of receiving the holy communion for the second time, I deem it my duty once more to make the last declaration of those sentiments which I have publicly manifested during the last nine years, and in which I still persevere. A Christian by the grace of God, and professing the catholic apostolical and Roman religion, in which I have had the happiness to be born and educated, and in which it is my concluding wish both to live and to die, I declare, that I firmly believe in whatsoever is believed and taught by the Roman church, the only church founded by Jesus Christ.

"That I condemn with my heart and spirit all that she condemns, and that I approve all that she approves.

"In consequence of which, I retract all that I have written and printed, or that has been printed under my name, which may be contrary to the catholic faith, or to good morals; hereby disavowing the same, and as much as lies in my power condening and dissuading the publication of them, as well as the reprinting, and representation on the theatre. "I also hereby equally retract and

condemn

condemn every erroneous proposition that may have escaped from me in these different writings. 1 likewise exhort all my countrymen to entertain sentiments of peace and of concord; I ask pardon of all those who think they have a right to complain of me; and I, myself, at the same time, in like manner, most sincerely pardon all those of whom I have a right to complain."

The works of M. de la IIarpe are voluminous; an edition of them was published in 1771; and in 1806 a new one appeared under the title of "Euvres Choisies & Posthumes," in 4 vols. corrected with his own hand.

Vol. I. contains Le Comte de Warwick, Melanie, Jeanne de Naples, Philoctete, Coriolan & Virginie.

Vol. II. his Moliere "a la nouvelle Salle," with extracts of Gustave, Timoleon, Pharamond, Menzicoffe, les Baremecides, Barnevel, les Muscs Rivales, les Brames, Polynexe, Vengeance d'Achille, Aboulcasem, Jerusalem Delivrée, & la Pharsalie.

Vol. III. his "Discours en Vers," his "Poesies Legeres," his "Epitres & Pieces Diverses," and his "Discours Academiques."

Vol. IV. consists of "Précis Historique sur le Prince Menzicoff," and "Fragmens d'Apologie de la Religion;" containing,

1. Philosophical Prolegomena, or a demonstration of the essential connexion between Man and God.

2. The certainty of the mission of Jesus Christ and the Apostles.

3. Of Miracles.

4. Of Mysteries and the Prophecies. And, 5. Imitations in verse, of two Psalms.

MISCELLANEOUS.

"Cours complet d'Harmonie et de Composition, d'après une Théorie nouvelle; par J. J. DE MOMIGNY. Trois vol. in 8vo."-A complete Course of Harmony and Composition, after a new Theory; by J. J. de Momigny.

M. de Momigny has on this occasion endeavoured to present a series of musical compositions in every point of view; and he now appeals to the judgment of those who have occupied their attention with this charming art Quintilian observes, that it would be fortunate if such only were to decide: "Felices essent artes si de illis soli artifices judicarent."

The Author is allowed, by some of the critics, to possess a brilliant imagination, abounding with novelty; and is at the same time considered as a competent

and enlightened judge. Whether or not he has found out the boundaries of the true theory of music as here pretended, still remains to be proved; but it is evident that he is a complete courtier, for he terms the union of instrumental sounds with the human voice, the "mouarchical unity;" and seems to think, that every thing "democratical," "aristocratical," "directorial," or 66 republican," is in direct opposition to "harmony." "Pericles: De l'Influence des Beaux Arts sur la Félicité publique ; nouvelle Edition, revue & corrigée par l'Auteur." Pericles, or the Influence of the Fine Arts on the public Happiness; a new edition, revised and corrected.

The author of this work is a sovereign prince, although he is content to designate himself simply in the title-page as "Charles d'Alberg, a foreign associate of the Institute of France." It consists of seven dialogues, in which an attempt is made, by the adoption of the dramatic form, to give aniination to philosophic truths respecting the fine arts; and these are here contemplated rather in respect to their utility than their elegance. By the elevation of genius, and the incitement to virtue, they are, in fine, regarded as influencing private as well as public happiness, in no common degree.

The first dialogue takes place between Anaxagoras and Euripides, on leaving the theatre after the representation of the tragedy of Helen. This serves as a preface to the whole; for, after the poet had detailed his reasons for writing for the stage, the philosopher animadverts on the connexion between the drama, and architecture, painting, sculpture, and music. He at the same time announces his design to engage Pericles to patronise and encourage all these arts.

The second dialogue is between Anaxagoras and Pericles, in the square where the latter has just harangued the people. This statesman, although fully sensible of the emotions which the fine arts confer, at first resists all the insinuations and all the counsels of the philosopher.

"How is Greece interested," says he, "in respect to the embellishments of Athens? She desires that the empire of the laws may preserve her alike from despotism and anarchy: this is the only object of all her vows."

Anaxagoras, on the other hand, remarks, that, provided Athens should become a school in which distinguished talents of every kind took up their abode, great advantages would necessarily accrue

to

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In the course of the third dialogue, Phidias accepts, but not without some modest objections, the direction of the labours which Pericles has confided to his management. He at the same time expresses himself relative to his own art with enthusiasm, and in respect to the others, with scnsibility and intelligence. The scene is at the entrance of the citadel, for the construction of the portico of which, Pericles now gives orders.

In the course of the ensuing dialogue, Phidias repairs to Mount Hymetus, where he interrupts the astronomical observations of Anaxagor s, in order to demand and receive his advice. The philosopher, after exhibiting an universality of attainments, ani nadverts so as to evince great knowledge of the human heart, on the delicacy with which artists ought to be directed, in respect to their particular

studies.

The fifth dialogue takes place in the workshop of a sculptor. Thither Phidias brings Mnesias, the most celebrated musician of Athens, in order that Alcamenes, who was employed for that purpose by Pericles, might carve his bust. The latter, who was the ablest of all the scholars of Phidias, enters into an animated conversation with his two friends, relative to the differences between, and similitude in respect to all the arts. They treat of the " specific imitation," the generical imitation," and the "transcendent imitation." Each speaks in his own proper character:

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"Dicunt debentia dici ;" and their style is replete with Attic salt and Attic grace.

The two last dialogues are perhaps the most interesting of the whole. Pericles, who is confined to his bed, appears un

happy lest the fruit of all his labours hould be lost after his death. He sends for Alcibiades, to whom is about to be transferred the burden of his extensive authority. He exhorts him to wisdom, and to firmness; above all things he entreats that he should be careful to maintain the good opinion of the allies, and at the same time to manage the revenues of the state with economy. In respect to the latter subject, he offers up some excuses for his own conduct: he was desirous, he observed, to unite domestic economy with national grandeur.

Alcibiades on this occasion displays all the fiery temperament of his character. He wishes to shine in Athens, by astonishing the universe: his schemes and projects appear unbounded.

"The time is at length arrived," exclaims he, "when the Greeks, led by the Athenians, shall become masters of the universe!" He then displays the whole bent of his character, and felicitates' himself with the hopes of an extensive authority, derived from the favour of the people.

"Aud I," says Pericles, "I also was intoxicated with glory during my youth; but I at length became acquainted with that specics which is alone founded on truth: real glory followed me from the moment that I abandoned the other."

Alcibiades, after paying a feeble homage to whatsoever appears sage and provident, indulges himself in his darling passion. He then exclaims, in those raptures engendered by an ardent imagination, "Let a new Homer one day celebrate in Alcibiades a new Achilles! Let the chissels of future Phidiases and Alcameneses eternize my features! May I be assured of the affection of my contemporaries, and the admiration of ages yet unborn!-May the gods but grant me a single instant of such felicity, a single drop of this nectar-I shall then die content." Having spoken this, he retires.

She,

"A lamp burning in the apartment, conveys a dim light, just sufficient to discover Aspasia sitting by the pillow of the expiring hero, who beseeches her, at his death, to unite her endeavours with those of Socrates, for the purpose of moderating the ardent ambition of Alcibiades. on the other hand, at once disclaims her capability of so difficult a task, and mentions her resolution not to survive Pericles. In an affecting manner, she recalls past events, and insists on those sentiments of love and honour which ought to attach her to the illustrious man

she