demnation of them before the assembled Academy; and consecrated the remainder of his days to composing sacred poetry. He died two years after; March 13, 1695, at the age of seventy-three. In preparing him for the tomb, his body was found to be covered with hair-cloth, which Catholic piety, always so superstitious and self-righteous, had imposed on him.

I have given these details, because they accord so admirably with his beautiful character, and concur in proving the sincerity of his conversion. A man so upright, through the whole course of his life, could not be false in face of death. La Fontaine's whole history is a remarkable commentary on these words of the Lord: He that doeth truth, cometh to the light. That is the high moral stamp of his character. Let us not forget that La Fontaine has succeeded in pleasing, because he is always true, simple, and natural. Never have we

greater occasion to recall these words:

"Death never takes the wise man by surprise.
For, he has always trained his heart

To hail the hour when he must part

With earth; and on its dearest objects close his eyes."

Let us learn how to be ready like him; and never forget, that for this end

"The knowledge of ourselves, is, here below,

The science we need first to know."

Book 12. Fable 27.

Nor can

THERE are essential differences between English and French tragedy. Justly admiring your world-renowned Shakspeare, we could not fail when we had the works of Corneille under notice, to draw a comparison between the genius of these two eminent men. there be a question that the comparison resulted to the advantage of the English poet. We are accustomed in France, to hear the English, and especially the Germans, unsparingly criticize our classic authors; condemning the tragedies of Corneille, Racine, and Voltaire, as being too cold, too pompous; and even according to some, heavy, unnatural, and tiresome.

It may, then, be well for us, before examining Racine, to consider this difference, and see if it is not possible to render justice to the classic French tragedies, without scandalizing the admirers of the opposite style.

This question presents itself to us very naturally in reviewing the works of Boileau, who was for so long a time, the legislator of the French Parnassus; the sym

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bol and representative of classic tragedy, and even of ancient French poetry.

The merits and defects of Boileau can be summed up in two words; he was not a poet, but he was the master of the great poets of his time. His rare good sense, his sound and stable judgment, made him an excellent critic; though he had neither the sensibility nor the imagination of a poet. He was merely a skilful versifier; always calm, always self-possessed; and would that we could add, always just and true. He very well characterizes himself as "possessing more skill in finding fault, than in writing well." Having an eminently critical mind joined to an exquisite taste, he rendered immense service to literature and the French language. The French writers of that day were exposed to the danger of servility; imitating, on the one side, the pompous style of the Spanish authors, into which Corneille insensible fell, in his later years; and on the other, the studied and affected style of the Italians. But Boileau was on his guard; and the French language is indebted to him for that perspicuity and conciseness which has caused it to be adopted as the language of diplomacy.

Every bad author met in him an independent and incorruptible adversary; for, bad taste never found grace in his eyes. Such writers were naturally his enemies; but men of talent always found in him a friend, a wise counsellor, and sound critic. It was under his influence that Racine formed his style, and was preserved from the faults of the day; and this alone would suffice to immortalize the satirist. He was in the habit of boasting that he had taught Racine to write with difficulty, easy verses; meaning thereby to say, that he had ́ made him comprehend, that the most simple things do