— 166 — 



The learned President of the Royal Society divides 

 early French poets into four categories : the first, those 

 of the classical school, like Michel Bibaud, more or less 

 successful imitators of the Trench poets of the 17th 

 century ; the second class is championed by Mr. Joseph 

 Quesnel and reflects the literary form of the end of the 

 18th century and of the first French Empire ; the third 

 class embraces those writers hailing from the European 

 school of 1830, whose happiest exponents among us 

 were Messrs. Turcotte, Real Angers, Barthe, Derome 

 and Garneau. A fourth category includes the romantic 

 school, represented by Mr. Joseph Lenoir and other 

 kindred spirits, the forerunners of the bright poetical 

 galaxy of to-day : Cremazie, Frechette, Le May, Suite, 

 Chapman, Poisson. 



Of course, those early " metrical musings " were rfot 

 all master-pieces ; with original beauties unquestion- 

 able, were blended a few rude defects. Some of the 

 writers had had access to original polite learning and 

 refinement in Paris and had profited thereby. 



Several like Mermet and Quesnel, were born in 

 France ; elegant versifiers, a little colony of sweet 

 singers bent on continuing on the historic shores of the 

 St. Lawrence, the tender madrigals, gentle ariettas, 

 amorous ditties, which they had learned to warble on 

 the flowery banks of the Seine. 



Of this school, one meets with occasional traces in 

 the light " Sonnets to Chloe ", the patriotic appeals in 

 journals, on New Year's day, on which the carrier-boy 

 rested his hopes of the usual New Year's gift — possibly 

 accompanied, on a frosty morning with un petit verre de 

 liqueur. (A far more toothsome offering than the 

 ancient Guignolee which some old Canadian Druid 

 wished lately to resuscitate.) 



When the Repertoire National is silent, one can 

 appeal again for lyrical, burning verses to the scented 

 pages of ladies' albums forgotton in old escritoires, with 

 a faded rosebud, a lock of hair, or other dear, but melan- 

 choly souvenir, alas ! 



