what she is, and some conjectures as to what she is to be." Vol. 1. pp. 1, 2.

The

The first great period into which he divides his subject, is the Middle Ages; and in the view of the different elements, which were silently working in that dark abyss for the formation of future excellence, he makes a comparison between the opposite spirit of Catholicism and Protestantism. germs of the latter were lying in the womb of time, ages before its final developement. His remarks have interest, as coming from one bred in the Romish communion, and familiar by his residence with the Protestant.

"The reign of the Pope is over. The systematic attacks of the Reformation, and the blasting ravages of the French Revolution, have demolished the last remnants of the edifice of the misplaced veneration of our forefathers. Fallen from the opinion of the firmest believers, the temporal power of Rome is destined to end with the other political calamities of the peninsula.

"But whatever, in the verification of the brightest expectations of the warmest patriots, may prove the destiny of the court of Rome, it is not said, that it would necessarily bring with it the dissolution of the Catholic unity in Italy. Either owing to their natural tendency, or to the reflections arising from the past, such is at present the disposition of mind of that people, that they will sooner give up religion altogether, than have it dismembered into different sects and communions. The unity of faith, has always been a rallying standard to put an end to their discords and rivalries; the different orders and ranks of society have always met at church on terms of equality. Should it be otherwise, now that Italy can only live by concord and harmony?

"That same calmness and soberness of judgment, that same abhorrence of cavil and sophistry, that same tolerance and `liberality, that deterred the Italians from plunging into the maze of Grecian heresies, has in later times equally prevented them from lending their ears to the best arguments of German Protestantism; and that spirit of forbearance and temperance contributed to strengthen the bonds of religious unity in Italy, far more than the bulls of the popes and the firebrands of the Inquisition, which, in many instances, both individuals and governments boldly and successfully resisted.

"But wherever a free course has been allowed to theological investigations, human minds have rushed on so inconsiderately, they have been parted so far asunder, that it would

now require not less than the interference of the power of Heaven to bring them together anew; and it is a fact, a striking, deplorable fact, that some of the Protestant denominations, by too busy a spirit of innovation, by too wide a freedom of discussion, and sometimes by the worldly jealousies and vanities of their ministers, have arrived at the same results to which the Catholics were driven by the errors and scandals of their church, skepticism and infidelity; with this difference, that the Catholics have fallen into such extremes out of disgust and resentment, the Protestants have come to them through pride and presumption.

"Catholicism, perhaps, even in its greatest purity, imposed more abrogation of reason, more implicit faith, than any effort of human virtue can assent to; Protestantism gave to human curiosity and indiscretion, more latitude than is compatible with religious submission. The fault in both cases chiefly consisted in the degree of authority left to the clergy. The Cathol c is firmly persuaded, that his priest would never wish to deceive him if he could; the Protestant flatters himself, that his minister could not if he would. Hence the Catholic depends too much on another, the Protestant relies too much on himself. But deception in Catholicism must be derived from a general conspiracy of all the clerical orders, from the Pope to the meanest of monks; error in Protestantism can be the consequence of the sophisms of a divinity-school, or of the shrewdness of a single preacher, thirsting for notoriety.

"Certainly, a thinking Catholic, assisting at the ceremony where a hundred thousand people are prostrated in adoration before the vial in which the blood of St. Januarius is boiling, has occasion to blush at the creed of his fathers; but a warmhearted Protestant on his way to meeting, crossing a hundred currents of people walking in opposite directions, must feel a chill through his veins at the thought, that all those people are treading in the path of error and perdition. The reformed denominations have always aimed to preserve religion in its simplicity and purity; the Catholics have labored to maintain it in its splendor and majesty. The Protestants have kindled their persuasion in the light of reason; the Catholics have tempered their faith in the flames of charity; there is more in Protestantism to satisfy the mind, in Catholicism more to fill the heart.

"As such considerations prevail in Italy among the most enlightened friends of religion, the unity of faith and worship will, according to all probabilities, be preserved in its forms, though under more large and liberal views. Prelates and cardinals, abbeys and nunneries, inquisition and censure, auricu

lar confession, indulgences, and purgatory, all these are rapidly losing their influence for ever; but Catholicism, as a name, is still revered; the most conscientious Christian in Italy has made his protest within the privacy of his heart, without being driven to an open profession of apostasy. Every man forms his sect by himself, and all those individual creeds meet in one church, as if for a tacit compact of mutual forbearance. Vol. 1. pp. 93–97.

We have not room for some acute remarks of our author, discriminating the nice shades of character, found in the different races and states of Italy, and which explain in a great degree the various aspects of her literature.

The second period in the work is that of the Republics, when all the powers of the Italian were called into exercise in that fierce struggle for freedom, too often faction, which was going on from the thirteenth to the fifteenth century in the great cities of Italy. It was under the influence of these exciting circumstances, that those master-pieces of literature were produced, before noticed, the delight and despair of succeeding ages.

Signor Mariotti does ample justice to the muse and the memory of Dante. The stern virtues of the uncompromising exile are much more to his taste than the somewhat effeminate and accommodating character of Petrarch. Yet in a literary view, the latter was worthy of a place beside his more masculine rival. It was beauty succeeding vigor. Dante had revealed the power and compass of the Italian. But the soft breath of Petrarch could alone call out the melody and richness of this new and untried instrument. In forming the language, he has had an influence, probably greater than that of the "great Florentine" himself; and the gems, which he was the first to draw forth from the unwrought mine, still shine with untarnished lustre after the lapse of ages. Scarcely a word in him is obsolete. Let the Englishman go back to Chaucer, the Frenchman to his troubadours and trouvères, or to the chivalrous old Froissart, somewhat later, to estimate the value of this encomium.

If Dante had first established the power of Christianity for poetical purposes, neither can Petrarch be refused the merit of displaying this, and in a more touching form, in the verses which he wrote after the death of Laura. In his amatory effusions, both before and after this event, we find the moral

elevation which the modern lyric was to take above the ancient, in substituting the poetry of sentiment for that of the senses. This was no small boon to literature and to mankind.

We quote our author's portrait of the great laureate, sketched with spirit, though in colors not too flattering.

"The life of Petrarch and his works do not always perfectly harmonize.

"As a writer, Petrarch was not known to have ever disguised truth for any personal danger or interest. A guest and favorite of the Avignonese popes, he uttered the severest reproofs against the vices and infamies of their court.

A friend

and familiar of the Lombard tyrants, his voice was ever raised for his country, and he dared alone to utter his cry of 'Peace, peace, peace! A creature of the Colonna, he applauded the efforts of Rienzi, which ended with the extermination of that family.

Italy, truth, and humanity were dearer to him than his

dearest friends.

"But why needed he to be the guest of popes, and minion of tyrants? Why did he continue a familiar with the oppressor, while his heart was bleeding for the oppressed?

"Petrarch was a virtuous man, but he was not a hero; his was a candid and generous, but not equally a rigid and steady character. To all his eminent qualities one was wanting, -the noblest attribute of man, courage. He gave, in his lifetime, several proofs of that nervous pusillanimity, which is but too often inborn in the temperament of men of letters. Of this class of beings, Petrarch was the first type. It is now fashionably observed, that men of letters are a kind of middle creatures, between man and woman. Popes, emperors, and tyrants, had for him the regards to which a woman is entitled ; and he who, according to his own expressions, feared those whom he loved, was seduced by the arts which generally decide a woman's fate, flattery and caresses.

"He was disinterested and frugal; he despised wealth, or lavished it upon his friends, whom he always loved with unexampled fidelity. His poem, Africa,' was dedicated to King Robert when dead his book, 'De Remediis utriusque Fortunæ,' to Azzo da Coreggio, when a fugitive and proscribed. He was exempt from ambition, and shunned honors, dignities, and all the cares of public life; but he was not equally inaccessible to vanity, nor to that petty jealousy and spitefulness, so highly derogating from a character of true greatness.

He

mistook public opinion for glory, he purchased the applause of his age at the expense of the censure of all following.

"The honors that awaited him wherever he moved, dazzled his judgment; the joy that his appearance roused, the halo that his laurel spread round his head, did not allow him to see objects in their real state; and such was then, indeed, the state of things, as to render his path exceedingly arduous and perilous. The differences between Guelphs and Ghibelines became more and more complicated. Petrarch was in Rome and Avignon a Guelph; he was a Ghibeline at Milan, Padua, and Parma; as a champion of humanity he was both, as a patriot neither.

"Petrarch was not the man of his age." 266-268.

- Vol. I. pp.

Yet Petrarch, if wanting in the rugged independence of Dante, was not a servile sycophant. He was, indeed, a courtier, and enjoyed the intimacy of the best and the worst princes of his time; of the elegant Robert of Naples, and the sanguinary Visconti. But, though polished and courtly in his deportment, he never prostituted his pen to base and unworthy purposes. He never employed his brilliant panegyric in varnishing over vice, and in instilling the poison of degrading sentiment into the heart. Not unfrequently, indeed, we find him raising his voice with a noble swell of indignation against the corruptions of the time. With what boldness does he launch forth against the abuses of the Church! How earnestly does he implore the pontiffs, then ignominiously holding their court at Avignon, to transfer it to his native land, the capital of the Christian world! And how does his patriotic bosom beat with emotion at the contemplation of the fallen city, and her majestic monuments, majestic in ruin and desolation! These are the familiar topics which sometimes inspired the muse, but more frequently the letters, of Petrarch, in that voluminous correspondence, which connects him with the great and good of his age, and enabled him to exercise a wide, and in many respects salutary influence. These are his merits.

The third great triumvir, Boccaccio, was in his career scarcely less remarkable. For his writings, though in prose, are still revered as text of the tongue. The earliest period which we should venture to fix on as that in which the English language attained its pure and classic, we will not say permanent, form, would be in the time of Addison, prob