indignant, and the "Chansonnier" was deprived of his place. But there never was a more perfect triumph prepared for a literary man, than this destitution procured for its intended victim. His cause was at once espoused as national, and he was pronounced a martyr. His private friends, a numerous party, rallied round him, and the public joined in circles of increasing extent, till the whole surface of society was ruffled by the wide-spreading eddies of discontent, emanating from him who floated buoyantly on the troubled waters. A new edition of his songs was announced, with an additional volume. Ten thousand copies were printed, and instantly sold. The prosecution of the author was resolved on; the suppression of the work commanded; and the discovery of four copies rewarded the zeal of the police. De Béranger was brought to trial on four separate charges, namely for having outraged morality, insulted religion, offended the King's person, and excited the public to sedition. Fourteen songs were selected to bear out these charges. The interest created was quite unparalleled. The court was crowded to an excess scarcely before witnessed; and the powers of the counsel employed in the prosecution and defence were exerted to the utmost. The result was, the acquittal of the accused on the first and third charges, and his conviction on the second and fourth, by a majority of the jurors (conformably to the French law) of seven to five; but it was discovered by the judges, after the jury returned their verdict, that the fourth charge (which was literally " d'avoir provoqué au port publique d'un signe extérieur de ralliement non autorisé par le Roi") was not qualified as an offence by the criminal code. De Béranger then stood only liable to punishment on the second charge, “d'avoir commis le délit d'outrage à la morale publique et religieuse ;" and his sentence for this offence was, three months' imprisonment, a fine of 500 francs (£20), and the suppression of his work, The announcement of so slight a penalty on charges so serious; the small majority of the jury by which he was convicted; and the general feeling that the attack was prompted much less by respect for religion and "bonnes mœurs," than by political malice; left De Béranger and his friends no triumph to desire. He enjoyed his imprisonment and paid his fine; for the first was a continued fête, and his wealthy friends showered offers upon him, which, if accepted, would have repaid his forfeited francs a thousand-fold. But he declined all assistance. The profits of his publication produced a sum which gives him an annual income of about £80, and on this he lives independent, respectable, and content. He has written but little since his trial. An occasional song escapes him, as it were, without effort; and if he does not court, he has too much gallantry to decline, the visits of the willing Muse. CROLY'S " CATILINE.' It is next to an impossibility to conceive any thing more truly magnificent and poetic, than the greater part of this Tragedy. Why is it not performed? is a question that must occur to every one possessing a knowledge of stage effect; for, in this respect, it is little else than a succession of striking situations. An actor capable of demonstrating the workings of powerful passions, could not have finer opportunities for displaying his abilities, than by personating "Catiline." That the managers of both our National Theatres should pass it over as unworthy their notice, is not very surprising. It is many miles beyond their comprehension; and we cannot conceive that the Poet could feel a greater degree of nausea, than by witnessing their puerile attempts to embody the splendid creations of his genius, had their stock of vanity unfortunately prompted them to the effort. Kean is the only son of Thespis who could at all grasp the character. His conceptions are so intellectual, and his powers of communicating them to an audience so rare and multitudinous, that he could not fail. We can imagine with what nature, beauty, and sublimity, he would deliver this high-wrought description of the "terrible dreams" with which Catiline is supposed to be afflicted. "I've been, of late, Strangely beset, and sunk into the prey Quivers to think of.-Sometimes I am hurl'd From mountain-tops, or hung, by failing hands, Sometimes, engulf'd in the outrageous sea, And down its depths sent strangling, then flung loose As many leagues aloft, above the moon, To freeze along the desarts of the sky ;-- And then I'm crush'd by heaps of dying men- And, fainting, strive to shout;—then, in this death, A remnant of my tortures ;-and thus, night How ably, also, would this great Actor embody the intense and various feelings which so rapidly and naturally succeed each other, in the following splendid piece of blank verse, just at the close of the Tragedy. "Now, Hope! away,-and welcome, gallant Death! Welcome the clanging shield, the trumpet's yell,Welcome the fever of the mounting blood, That makes wounds light, and battle's crimson toil |