(FORTUNE Magazine) – An Italophile friend of mine has a theory: The world divides into two groups of people--those who like Florence and those who prefer Venice. A good marriage, he insists, combines one of each.

The same might be said of import cars: There are those who crave British elegance and those who insist on German precision. Unbelievably, the Ford Motor Co. has managed to build both at once--the Jaguar S-Type and the Lincoln LS.

Because the two luxury sport sedans share genes (Ford's new DEW platform and 40% of parts), I feared they would be too similar, but quite the opposite is true. They are about as far apart in personality as Sharon Stone and Hillary Clinton. It's not enough, of course, to be simply eye-catching and sensuous or rock-solid and shrewd, however. The luxury segment is the fastest-growing niche of the car market, so Ford is putting a lot on the shoulders of its latest offspring. The S-Type, you see, has to help double Jag's worldwide sales numbers this year from 50,000 to 100,000. The LS, meanwhile, has the burden of convincing import buyers that an American company can build a luxury car that performs like a European, not a Barcalounger on wheels.

ON A JAG

Jaguars may have had lots of legendary mechanical quirks over the decades, but they've always been lookers. The S-Type has more retro humps and swoops than anything else on the road, and there's something new: Mechanically, this car is a class act. So it was fitting that I drove it alongside 15 vintage Jags last month in the California Mille Miglia, a 1,000-mile rally for pre-1957 sheet metal that is loosely modeled after the famous Italian race by the same name (this one focuses much more on good food and wine, much less on competition). Since DaimlerChrysler did not renew Chrysler's sponsorship of the 75-car event this year, Jaguar stepped in and took over.

The first morning, the whole exotic pack of cars thundered off over the Golden Gate Bridge, the throaty bellow of old V-12s drowning out the sound of my 240-horsepower V-6 S-Type ($42,500). At first it seemed a sin to be buffered in the ultramodernity of the Jag's lush interior. But after a few hours of watching the other contestants getting wind-lashed in all their topless splendor, I began to appreciate the march of progress.

Well, I mostly appreciated it. The engineers in England have done a masterful job of implanting that buttery, smooth, I-shop-on-Rodeo-Drive feeling of a Jaguar into the S-Type. In fact, I wonder what will happen to sales of its higher-end sedans once loyal buyers figure out you can get all the distinctive styling, wood accents, and Connolly leather--plus voice-activated controls, the company's first-ever yaw-control system, and a sports package--for $7,000 less than the XJ line. There is always, however, a but and, in this case, a butt. While the S-Type's rippling nose and oooh!-mouthed grille are world-class cool, its back end has as much appeal as a Taurus' rump.

Taste aside, my only serious complaint is the car's transmission. Particularly in the V-6--a new Ford engine for Jaguar--the tremendous lag between "shifts" using the automatic's J-gate (you can go from second to third to fourth and back again) caused a couple of sticky moments in corners. On one of Northern California's most beautiful twisties through wine country, I braked and downshifted from third to second heading into a sharp bend. Halfway through the corner and just as I spotted the semi coming in the other direction, the transmission finally dropped down a gear--causing a raucous wheel-spinning panic and a wobble in the back end (okay, I had the traction control off, but still). We made it, but I was aware of the internal struggle the rest of the day: The S-Type seemed not to be able to decide what gear to be in, so we'd slip up or down unexpectedly, depending on the level of gas-pedal pressure. Why have a shifting system that only pretends to let you have the control?

The gearbox was better behaved in the V-8, and both versions allowed me to fly past countless Ferraris, Alfas, and Porsches all day. When I wasn't going double the speed limit (as a sergeant exasperatedly pointed out to me the next morning) and experiencing some body roll, the car settled down nicely and provided an unfailingly luxurious overall experience.

During the second 300-mile day, I got a ride in a low-slung, insectlike '55 D-Type that had placed third at Le Mans in 1957. With my knees tucked under my chin, a horror-movie facemask on, and the engine bruising my ears, I was thrilled. Then came the hailstorm in the mountain pass. As I felt the icy sludge drip slowly down the front of my jacket and watched the owner bravely wipe his four-inch windscreen clear every few minutes, I suddenly yearned for my S-Type again. Riding in an old car reminded me that power is good, comfort is great, and luxury is an art. Luckily the S-Type has all three. It's not a high-performance track star, but it's well made and feisty enough to get you into plenty of trouble (I say after three encounters with the police).

LINCOLN LOGS A WINNER

Back in the early '50s, Lincoln made hulking family cars that happened to do very well in the famous Mexican road race La Carrera Panamericana. Since then, however, the marque hasn't had a whole lot to sing about in terms of performance, as most business travelers know from airport Town Car services. So it is understandable, then, to see the amount of fanfare surrounding Lincoln's launch of the LS on San Francisco's Treasure Island last month: finally a car worth hyping. Buses, barges, and a blimp carried teaser messages like bLiSs and pLeaSure, and two huge buildings on the decommissioned military base were transformed into a high-tech, Disneyesque Lincolnland.

I climbed into a V-6 manual-transmission version (the company expects to sell only 3% in this configuration to enthusiasts, but at least it's aiming at my favorite constituency), and immediately I was struck by its determined avoidance of personality. The leather seats are well bolstered but nondescript. The instrument panel is simple and clean, but unmemorable. The exterior lines are classic, elegant, but vaguely derivative of other successful sedans. After a few days around the car, however, I finally realized that its personality is perfectly strong: It is very Germanic, very understated. There's no arguing with the LS, and in terms of ride and handling, there's no need to. It is always right.

One of the LS's strengths is not raw power, however. And it's a shame, because the short-throw, precise gearshift in the 210-horsepower V-6 ($31,450) was confidence-inspiring and pleasurable, and the car's road holding was first-rate. I revved and screeched it around the tight corners near Stinson Beach, but never once felt any nosediving on braking, or steering lag, or distracting body roll. I'm convinced that if you upped the power by 40 horses or so, the car could handle it--no problem. As it was, I didn't dare pass without a whole lot of open road.

The 241-horsepower V-8 ($35,225) was a lot spunkier, but just as Germanic in its road manners. Unlike the Jag, the LS comes with an optional SelectShift system that allows you to either drive in automatic mode or tip the gear handle up or down to shift the car. And unlike the Jag, the LS lets you shift down to first gear, displays the current gear on the dashboard, and responds with relatively little lag.

Out on Treasure Island, Lincoln set up comparison-drive situations with some competitors' cars to make certain points. Acceleration: faster than an Audi A6, thanks in part to its rear-wheel-drive configuration. Litheness: nimbler than a Mercedes C-Class. Agility: easier to steer and more stable than a BMW 528i. Braking: no nosediving, vs. the hilarious to-the-ground bow the Lexus ES300 took under heavy deceleration. "Do you think they worked on the cars?" whispered one incredulous dealer who was going through training that day.

And that's Lincoln's greatest challenge: to get performance-minded buyers into the LS so that they can see for themselves that they can have an honest-to-God near-BMW experience for $8,000 less than a 5-Series.

Is one new Ford better than the other? Well, if you value standout design, sumptuousness, and a feeling of power, the

S-Type is your car. If, on the other hand, your appreciation of performance is less visual and more cerebral, the LS wins. Me? I'd wait until Ford gets smart and puts more power in the LS. Sometimes, less is not more.