the accord of voices and feelings." Herder speaks well. The strains which delight a people must be vocal and flowing; they must possess that mysterious something which results from a combination of the fitting measure with the fitting mood-the joint offspring of the heart and the ear; that exquisite yet subtle essence which all feel, yet none can define. Without this, you may have fine verses, indeed, but no song. You are a stranger to that charm which takes the ear prisoner ; sets the lips in motion, and lingers in the memory, as it were some delicate music warbled by Nature herself. Let it, therefore, be no matter of surprise that we ascribe to one who has fulfilled these conditions the highest station that poetry confers. Béranger is as yet, we believe, little known in England; the public notices that have been given us of his writings are either scanty or illiberal. An attempt to display him in fuller proportions, and, as we trust, in a more faithful spirit, will not, it is to be hoped, prove unwelcome to our readers. The intention to assume this grateful task dates with us almost from the commencement of the present work; its fulfilment may now be entered upon with the more propriety, inasmuch as we have at length before us the long-expected volume, in which the poet binds together his latest productions, to lay them at the feet of the public, as an affectionate farewell-offering. As a prelude to the consideration of his writings, some remarks upon the origin, character, and influences of ancient song,-that earliest, most vivid, and pervading revelation of the divine spirit of poesy,―might appear desirable and appropriate. But to recall, however briefly, the remoter accents of this voice, from the shadows of other times; to pursue any inquiry into its sweet and excellent tones; to show how song has evermore alternately been the interpreter and the guide of the feelings of nations; to display its concealed, but irresistible power over the current of human sentiment and action; to do this, even were we competent to perform the task, would require an expansion which we cannot give to this fascinating subject. Nor is it so german to our author as it might at first appear. The conditions under which a song-writer of modern days must speak to the hearts of his countrymen, are no longer the same which regulated the earlier utterances of national poetry. His influence, however universal, is exercised through different organs, even while addressing the same feelings; and the nature of his ministry, in all but subject, approaches more nearly than of old, to that of other forms of poetry; a circumstance which must in no wise be forgotten in comparing modern with early song. Thus, the pursuit of this delightful topic, would but remotely guide us to a due appreciation of the deserts of Béranger. A few words, however, must be given to some peculiar features of the nation to whom our author had to address himself. In France, the frequency and dominion of the lighter modes of song, and its unquestioned liberty, have been remarkable, from the earliest times to the present.* The genius of the country, and of the language, fostered this " joyous art." In most nations, it has expired, as an universal image of the * This characteristic was as strongly marked in the sixteenth century as it is now. "Les Français" (says the historian, Claude de Seyssel, in 1519) " ont toujours eu licence et liberté de parler à leur volonté de toute sorte de gens, et même de leurs princes, non après leur mort seulement, mais encore de leur vivant, et dans leur présence." This liberty of speech found its vehicle in song; it was for a long time the sole liberty they possessed. general feeling, upon their attainment to a certain degree of culture; in France it has never for an instant disappeared or lost its place. The gay, social character of the people, their quick perception of the ridiculous, their ready wit, their changeful temperament,-formed a language, which (poor as it may be in the resources of nobler expression) is beyond all others, rich and happy in the utterance of merriment, fondness, and sarcasm; and gave birth to infinite varieties of song. "Le Français, né malin, créa le vaudeville.” There is not more wit than truth in the well-known mot of Champfort, that France was une monarchie absolue tempérée par des chansons. In the most despotic times, (until the last exhibition of Bourbon decrepitude) song went free throughout the land, from hovel to palace; and sported alike with the furred robe of justice, and the rochet of the ecclesiastics. In the days of the League, it exerted a power superior to the enfeebled laws; it reigned in full glory during the strange comedy of the Fronde; and was heard with great poignancy and effect amidst the disputes between Orleans and the Parliament. It was a fourth estate in France, where the expression Tout finit par des chansons, has become proverbial; it was by these that a mercurial people consoled themselves for the oppressions of power, and found a vent for their feelings, which the wily Mazarin was glad to respect. "Hé bien, que dit le peuple des nouveaux edits?" "Monsiegneur, le peuple chante!" "Le peuple cante?" he replied, in his Italian patois, “il paiera!” But the pressure of servitude did not fail to impair the character of their minstrelsy. A light capricious ridicule was its boldest weapon of attack; and its social effusions (such is ever the case with slaves) were of a careless and heartless epicurism. They repeat, amidst all their grace and cheerfulness, the one pitiful theme, "Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die." Their pathos, in its rare occurrence, is of the same flimsy nature; as hollow as the Egyptian reveller's skull, and, in like manner, introduced but to stimulate the zest of the banquet. Such, briefly, was the general character of French song under the ancien régime; and it is observable in the most celebrated of Béranger's predecessors, such as Chaulieu, Collé, Panard, and Desaugiers. But the French Revolution, amidst other great changes, prepared the nation to require that some more earnest accents should mingle with the levity of their favourite form of poetry; when, after the terrible uproar of civil disorder, its voice again began to make itself heard. Béranger truly felt, that to be sung by all classes of a people born amidst the Revolution of 1790, required something more than Anacreon's confession of faith-gay chansons à boire, the mockery of jealous husbands, or brilliant epigrams upon the minor absurdities of an exclusive class of society. Little of biographical incident belongs to our author's life. Mes chansons, c'est moi, was his own faithful expression ;-in these the chief interest of his career must be sought. He was born of obscure parents in Paris, in 1782; and having, it would seem, early lost his father, passed his* childhood under the care of an old tailor, his maternal grandfather. To these humble circumstances, in after life, he took an ingenuous pride in alluding. His first occupation is said to have been that of garçon 'd'auberge; from whence, at eight years of age, he was sent to learn the One circumstance befell in his childhood which Latin superstition would have deemed a presage, if not the cause of his subsequent eminence. He was struck by lightning. trade of a printer, to a M. Laisney, at Peronne. This was a good, and, in some degree, a literary man ; and the talent of the young apprentice did not pass unnoticed. According to Béranger's own account, his master, having failed in the attempt to teach him to spell correctly, awakened in him a taste for poetry-(we should say, fostered a taste, of which he had already detected the germ)—gave him lessons in the art of versification, and corrected his first efforts. With this indulgent master printer he remained for some time, during which, it may be supposed, he made some progress in repairing the deficiencies of his early education. In the year 1796, he returned to Paris. Amidst the turbulent and shifting scenes of which that capital was now the theatre, he appears to have passed some years in a desultory and aimless manner; but the activity of his mind forbids us to suppose that either his industry or his observation was dormant the while. He appears to have early resolved to embrace the profession of an author; and the years which were passed in uncertain and abortive attempts in various kinds of composition, were not, therefore, wholly unprofitable. To his early struggles with adversity, he was, no doubt, indebted for much of that sympathy with the feelings, and insight into the character, of the lower ranks of society, which he was one day to turn into a talisman of power. The early necessity of self-aid would encourage the bold independence of his character, and an acquaintance with hardship, and with those rigid outlines of the anatomy of passion and temperament which polished society conceals, were doubtless of use in giving determination and firmness to his poetical vision. After wearing on, in poverty and disappointment, until 1803, he at length, as a last expedient, enclosed some of his poems to Lucien Bonaparte-little hoping, according to his own account, to obtain a reply. But this amiable man, himself a lover of poetry, held out the hand of kindness to the young author, administered to his immediate wants, and ultimately, we believe, was the means of procuring him the small appointment in the Bureau d'Instruction Publique, which he retained until the restoration. Relieved from the pressure of want, he now began to study with some definite aim; and having chosen song as the province of his ambition, he devoted himself, with what success remains to be told, to the assiduous cultivation of that style of writing. We say assiduous; for, from his earliest appear. ance as a poet, his productions are characterized by that exquisite com pleteness and finish which, although producing the effect of fluency and ease, evince to all but the most superficial examination, the consummate address, care, and proportion with which they are composed. We may here take occasion to remark, that at no period of his career has Béranger been what is called a ready writer; many of his favourite songs have been the result of weeks of labour; and the mastery he has won over the resources of his language; the inimitable harmony of his versification; the almost startling happinesses of expression, and a seeming hardihood of simplicity which distinguish his productions, have been the fruit of unremitting diligence. Upon this, some of our readers may be tempted to exclaim with Marcélle in the comedy, "Que de choses dans un menuet!' Let such attempt the translation of one of these simple-seeming lays, and they will discover whether we have spoken sooth, or no. Béranger's first publications were little more than happy specimens of the common style of French song; but the individual tincture of his mind, as he proceeded, soon began to colour his productions. He had already conceived the ambition of lending wider wings to song; and the fine vein of pensiveness which was a constituent part of his being, stole through the brightest current of his gaiety. The pen which was afterwards to describe indelible lines of sarcasm, preluded lightly with the Roi d'Yoetot, (in which the ambition of Napoleon is pleasantly touched,) or with Le Senateur (a burlesque said to have relaxed the brow of the stern Emperor himself.) He was but playing with the foil, until his hand should become familiar with a brighter weapon. His first essays, the while, were timid and unpretending. To achieve all he had dared to conceive, required a matured skill, and the vigour of more than youth. For one of his frank, joyous, and tender disposition, social and amatory themes could not fail to possess an irresistible attraction; and to such are most of his early songs dedicated. Of these, we select the graceful little bijou, entitled Roger Bontemps, the first of a class of compositions (which may be called his cabinet-sketches) in which our author eminently excels. So varied, so bright and picturesque, are these imaginary characters, struck out by a few happy touches, yet quick with the spirit oftruth and vitality, that once presented, they become part of our recollections, as known originals, and not as the mere creations of a poet's will. We had thought, in self-defence, to say something of the difficulties which the English translator of Béranger has to encounter, and of the reasons which induced us, after some reflection, to attempt a task, in which little success could attend labours far better directed than ours. Our explanation would, however, interfere with the prescribed economy of space to which it is necessary to conform ; and we must be content to abandon our versions to the mercy of the reader, confident that our least severe critics will be those whom a knowledge of the inimitable originals will enable to appreciate all the stubbornness of such an essay. "To shame the fretfulness Was born one Robin May. All snarlers to despise, Live free,-and shun display, Ah, gay! was the device Of comely Robin May. "The hat his father owned Coarse jerkin, patched and torn, "A pallet in his hut, A pack of cards, a flute, A flask, by chance supplied ;— A sketch of Rose,-a chest, But nought within to lay,- "With urchins far and near, A ready part to bear In stories quaint and sly ;— To con his song-book o'er, And judge of dance or play- Of comely Robin May. VOL. III.NO, XIV. N "In lack of vintage rare, To quaff his home-pressed wine: Than dames precise and fine;— To meet the coming day;— "To say, "I trust, in need, Thy goodness, bounteous Heaven! And be the cheerful creed That guides my acts forgiven! And let my Winter pair With Spring, till life decay :'- "Ye rich, who yearn and fret, Ye poor, who pine and fear, It is with regret that we allude to the tone of more than poetical license which disfigures many of the songs composed by Béranger during this period, and which renders the greater part of his portraits unsuitable for exhibition to general readers. This strong ground of objection is the more to be lamented, as it compels us to pass over some of the most lively and characteristic of his productions; his Lisettes and Margots, though, we are sorry to confess, anything but correct or exemplary, are, nevertheless, so gay, gentle, brilliant, and capricious, that it is impossible to avoid loving, even while we condemn them. Upon this head of accusation we shall not presume to apologize for the offences against propriety with which Béranger has not unjustly been charged; some alleviation of the censure might, however, be found in a glance at the moral laxity which has ever prevailed in France on these subjects, and which the disorders subsequent to the Revolution had pushed to an extreme latitude, at the period when Béranger began to write. It is but fair to state his own apology for the levity with which, throughout his entire career, his productions are continually disfigured:-that it obtained for his more earnest accents, amongst all classes, an attention which, otherwise, they would not have received. Of the extent to which this excuse is valid, we cannot pretend to judge; in any case, it reflects little credit either on the poet or the public. In order to spare ourselves a recurrence to such unwelcome observations, we may here dispose of the other serious charge of impiety, which has been urged against his attacks on priestcraft and intolerance. We do not think him equally guilty upon this count. Many of his satires, indeed, employ a freedom of language which would offend English ears; yet, allowance must, in fairness, be made for national habit; and it would be unjust to accuse an individual for the use of a liberty which the custom of his age has in some degree sanctioned. It was Béranger's misfortune to be born, at a time when religion seemed to be utterly annihilated in France, and to live to see her name prostituted to the basest cravings of a wicked despotism. His own remark upon this accusation deserves to be heard." When religion," he says, "becomes a political instrument, |