since, strange as it may appear to some, it would have been much easier to render the play all in verse.

As to verse and metrics, on which, in this instance, a book could (and later, may) be written, the author of this translation must now rest satisfied with the following brief remarks.

Enlightened by considerable experience, the result of many experiments and after much thought, he adopted blank pentameter as the true equivalent in English of French riming Alexandrine verse. First, because in English, frequent elisions making many syllables heavy, and "run on" lines practically adding to the number of syllables, the ten-syllable line of English verse is in reality the counterpart of the twelve-syllable verse in French. And second, because the object of rime being, not to repeat a given sound, but to beat time, the strongly accentuated syllables of English, as compared with the very much more even enunciation of French, are quite sufficient, without rime or assonance, to mark rhythm. Thus he avoided at least one criticism, to wit: rime is monotonous!

Touching metrics, the writer will here go only one step in the ways of heresy, by stating that, in his opinion, such words as "our," "hour," "fire," etc., should be, as in French, "duel," "hier," etc., counted for one syllable, or for two syllables, according to rhythm as influenced by the stronger or weaker emphasis called for by the sense of the word. This could be elucidated by examples, the place of which, however, is not here.

More generally as to methods, the writer makes free to state that, exerting himself to avoid literal translation (too often productive of laughable nonsense), and free translation (frequently a substitution of the translator's for the author's thoughts), he endeavoured, as in previous works of the same nature, to give what he has termed an equivalent translation. In other words, he strove to remain really true to the original by creating in detail, as well as in a general way, in English words on English minds the impression caused by French words on French minds. Some examples of the equivalence at least sought for will be found in the foot-notes on several pages of this book.

As to "le panache" that surmounts this masterpiece, "Cyrano de Bergerac," of which it is the main feature, sending through it a breath of joyful daring "quand même," the writer sought, as will be seen, to describe it in triolets. These, too, might need to be explained, were it not for the able commentary to be found in the Introduction so kindly written for this book by one of the most learned and esteemed professors of our Columbia University.

The writer trusts that he may be pardoned for going at such length into some of the minutiæ of his task, and he certainly should be acquitted if he thereby succeeded in showing how much labour must be expended to produce even a tolerable translation, and consequently, how little justice is very often done to translators in general. He commends these details to his friends as an inducement to think a while before they leap, or rather jump at conclusions. Were he less charitably disposed, or more eager for a practical demonstration, he could say to them simply: "Try the task!"

Charles Renauld.

New York, February, 1899.

"LE PANACHE."

TRIOLETS.

(After the fashion of Rostand's in ACT II: "Ce sont les Cadets de Gascogne.")

O'er truth and daring floats a plume
That is no flaunting feather vain!
In knightly grace and flower's bloom,
O'er truth and daring floats a plume!
In festive hall, by silent tomb,
It waves aloft without a stain.
O'er truth and daring floats a plume
That is no flaunting feather vain!

We'll call it, if you will, a broom;
But how it sweeps with proud disdain!
It sweeps the skies, and not a room!
We'll call it, if you will, a broom.
It is a symbol, not of gloom,
But of a dash that scorns to gain.
We'll call it, if you will, a broom;
But how it sweeps with proud disdain!

O'er truth and daring floats a plume
That is no flaunting feather vain!
It marks for ay the hero's doom!
O'er truth and daring floats a plume.
It nods o'er chisel, brush and loom,
And consecrates the poet's strain.
O'er truth and daring floats a plume
That is no flaunting feather vain!

Charles Renauld.

New York, 12th July, 1898.

CAST OF CHARACTERS.

Théâtre de la Porte St. Martin, Paris, 28th Dec., 1897 (First night).