our opinions on many points in which the national prejudice remains unnoticed, because we have never suspected that such a feeling could intrude itself into subjects which are not political. Such, however, we are certain is the case. Experience has taught us to acknowledge, that French generals, French ministers, French mathematicians, French chemists, and French surgeons, may contend for the palm of excellence with any we produce in England. The matter of French cookery and metaphysics is involved in greater doubt; but no right-minded Briton, that we know of, has ever consented to admit, or even condescended to examine, the merits of French poetry.

Many circumstances have occurred to create and perpetuate the distaste. Originally produced by the contempt which national animosity gives birth to, and extends indiscriminately to all subjects, it has naturally outlived the imbecile feeling from which it sprang; and is continued, like other habits, from the inconvenience which would attend its change. We are not certain that such a change would repay the trouble of unlearning an habitual taste; because it is very doubtful how far it is worth while to disturb our settled notions on a subject, concerning which all opinions, in fact, are equally indifferent. It is clearly impossible to fix any standard of excellence in matters of taste and sentiment. That poetry, therefore, is the best, which is most generally pleasing; and whether it be French or English, is a matter of chance and not of preference. So far, to the English reader, the question is decided. His taste is already formed; and we have no intention of impugning it in the present article. We merely wish to introduce him to the knowledge of certain poets, who are as much admired in France as they are unknown in England. We do not challenge his applause, but solicit his attention; for even if there be little admirable, poetically speaking, in the verses of these writers, we think there is much that is amusing. Beside which, to every lover of letters every branch of literature has its interest.

Much of the beauty of poetry must be lost in a foreign language. However intimate our acquaintance with a dialect which was not taught us in our infancy, we are unable to acquire in later life that familiar mastery of all its idioms which is necessary to a perfect relish of the pleasures produced by style. We want that rapid perception of the exact import of every phrase, and the precise degree of similarity or difference in terms which are nearly synonimous-none, perhaps, are exactly so of which the nurse is the sole instructress. We are insensible to the exquisite beauty resulting from the happy disposition of harmonious words, and overlook the peculiar turn imparted to whole sentences, by the equivocal use of

common phrases. All this must occur to every one, who is at all familiar with foreign authors; and wherever much pleasure is derived from foreign poetry, it is chiefly owing to associations of a very different nature from those which delight us in that of our native language. This pleasure is usually great in proportion to the difficulty surmounted in acquiring the foreign dialect. Hence the excessive admiration which Lowth entertained for the poetry of the Hebrew scriptures. Hence, also, the exaggerated praise of Hafiz and Ferdusi, and other writers of a barbarous language, who, being accessible to few, are proclaimed by that privileged few as the paragons of poetic genius. A polyglot scholar will decide, first, in favour of Greek-then, of German-of Italian, next-but of French, which is the easiest and most generally understood, last of all. The probability is, that the authors in all these dialects are of equal intrinsic excellence. But as the admirers of Euripides are considerably less numerous than those of Voltaire, the merits of these celebrated poets will be estimated— not in proportion to their respective dramatic excellence-but in an inverse ratio, according to the number of their readers.

This, we have no doubt, is a second cause of the neglect of French poetry in England. It is useless to search for other reasons which have consigned it to indifference. It is, however, certain, that of the many who deliver magisterial opinions on its great inferiority to our own, but few have ever thought it necessary to turn over the leaves even of its most celebrated authors. This is certainly more convenient than just. For our own parts, we believe, that much pleasure has been lost by this summary criticism; and we have therefore undertaken to present a specimen of French poetry, in order to excite inquiry, and to ascertain the real grounds of the common prejudice against it. To obtain a reading is all we dare at present hope for. If we succeed in amusing the reader, our time will not have been mis-spent; but if we make one convert, our utmost expectations will be surpassed.

There are two eras in French poetry, and between them we trace no resemblance. Since Mairet first wrote his Sophonisbe, the drama of his predecessors has fallen into utter oblivion. So is it in the other departments of poetry. The productions of De Baïf and Ronsard are only read in English magazines. The more curious man of letters may occasionally glance at the obsolescent verses of Marot; but the attention of the man of taste is confined to the graceful Chaulieu and his accomplished associates and successors. Among these we shall select our specimens; and as one of the most prominent, though the most modern, we have commenced with the "gen

til Bernard." Without occupying our pages or the reader's time with the motives which have induced us to make choice of him, we shall offer some preliminary remarks on the structure of French verse, and proceed at once to the subject

matter.

The singular inability of English readers to appreciate the merits of French style, has often been remarked by foreign critics. We are apt to see no difference between the most polished and barbarous verses; and are scarcely able to distinguish the style of Racine and Voltaire from that of Pellegrin or Danchet. Nothing, it is true, is more difficult than to write elegantly in French verse. The difficulty is enhanced by many causes, of which the most obvious are the remarkable restraints imposed by the peculiarity of the rhymes, and the extreme simplicity of the language, which absolutely forbids the inversions so familiar in the ancient, and recognised in most of the modern tongues. But these obstacles are not insuperable. In the productions of the great poets they are unobserved; and none but the great poets are worth reading in any language.

But the main embarrassment of English readers arises from the construction of the verse. The only school, where it can be learned with accuracy, is the French Theatre. In the mouth of Talma or Duchesnoi, the "monotonous creaking" of the alexandrine melts down into an harmonious and expressive softness, and exhibits all the varieties of easy and graceful cadence. The principal points which demand our attention in the verses of twelve and ten syllables, are the management of the mute e, and the hemistiche. The former can only be acquired by a careful examination of the rhythm peculiar to each foot of the verse. On its dexterous management depends the chief beauty of the cadence, both in prose and poetry. Empire, couronne, diadême, flamme, tendresse, victoire-all these harmonious terminations leave a sound upon the ear, which remains after the utterance of the word, like the expiring thrill of the piano, when the finger is removed from the key. On this subject we have nothing more perfect than Voltaire's letter to Deodati de Tovazzi,* in which the reader will find an amusing and ingenious comparison of the French and Italian languages.

The hémistiche, a division of the alexandrine into two equal parts, is almost peculiar to French prosody. The necessity of avoiding a monotonous intonation of the verse, by

*Corresp. Générale, Jan. 24, 1761.

sometimes observing, and at others omitting, the pause, render it equally important to the poet and the reader. The technical verses of Voltaire, composed for the instruction of both, con⚫tain all that can be usefully said about it.

"Observez l'hémistiche, et redoutez l'ennui
Qu'un repos uniforme attache auprès de lui.
Que votre phrase heureuse, et clairement rendue,
Soit tantôt terminée, et tantôt suspendue ;
C'est le secret de l'art. Imitez ces accents
Dont l'aisé Géliotte avait charmé nos sens.
Toujours harmonieux, et libre sans licence,
Il n'appésantit point ses sons et sa cadence.
Sallé, dont Terpsichore avait conduit les pas,
Fit sentir la mesure, et ne la marqua pas."

The hémistiche must be distinguished from the cæsura, which is common to all languages. The former falls invariably on the sixth, the latter on any syllable. In the following verse we have denoted the cæsuras by a line; the hémistiche occurs at the comma.

“Tiens—le voilà-marchons, il est à nous-viens-frappe."

Again, the hémistiche is at the word prix;

"Hélas !—quel est le prix des vertus?—la souffrance."

From these examples it is plain, that the variety of cadence in French verse must depend on the use of the cæsura, and not on the arbitrary division at the third foot.

The attempt to measure modern verse by iambic and trochaic feet is attended with such uncertain results, that it can never be successfully adopted in our scansion. The French alexandrine, it is true, may be divided into six feet, each consisting of two syllables; but these are indifferently iambi or trochees, and occur with so much uncertainty as to defy any general rule, as may be easily seen in the scansion of the foregoing couplets. In that English verse which, in its form, approaches nearest to the French heroic, the classical scansion is rendered more hopeless by the impossibility of dividing it into any regular number of feet. This is owing to the absence of the hémistiche. In its most regular form it consists of four places, each of which contains three syllables. Of this verse the second, third, fourth, and seventh lines in the following stanza are examples. In its more irregular shape, the first place is sometimes made to consist of two syllables; and

occasionally the others are curtailed in the same manner. stanza we quote is from one of Moore's most popular songs.

"Oh, think-not my spirits are al-ways as light
And as free-from a pang-as they seem-to you now;
Nor expect that the heart-cheering smile-of to-night
Will return--with to-morrow to bright-en my brow.
No, life-is a waste-of wea-risome hours

Which sel―dom the rose-of enjoy—ment adorns ;
And the heart-that is soon-est awake-to the flowers,
Is always the first-to be touched-by the thorns."

The

Of these verses, the second, which is divided by a hémistiche, is the only one which can be scanned by the rules of the French alexandrine; although there are three others, the third, fourth, and seventh, which contain the legitimate number of syllables.

Voltaire denies the existence of the proper hémistiche in verses of ten syllables; although, as they are divided by a regular pause, the objection only arises from his indisposition to use a word which imports division into two equal parts, when the parts are actually unequal.+ This pause falls upon the fourth syllable, and is invariably preserved in the verses of Bernard.

"J'ai vu Bacchus-sans chanter son délire;

Du dieu d' Issé-j'ai dédaigné l'empire;
J'ai vu Plutus;-j'ai méprisé sa cour;

J'ai vu Daphné;-je vais chanter l'Amour."

* There are some few exceptions in very short, and very long poems; in the former, because the monotony of such verses as

"L'amour est un Dieu-que la terre adore,
Il fait nos tourments-il sait les guérir;
Dans un doux repos-heureux qui l'ignore,
Plus heureux cent fois-qui peut le servir”-

is not intolerable for two or three stanzas—in the latter they occasionally relieve the ear by interrupting the regular pause.

+ Rather than employ the Greek term in a sense not exactly consonant with its derivation, Voltaire has taken the word cæsura to denote in the ten-syllable line what is expressed by hémistiche in the alexandrine. In consequence of this arbitrary selection, the cæsura marks two different pauses, accordingly as we are speaking of the tensyllable or any other verse.