The

de société is a difficult accomplishment, and no one has fully succeeded in it without possessing a certain gift of irony, which is not only a much rarer quality than humour, or even wit, but is altogether less commonly met with than is sometimes imagined. At the same time this description of poetry seems so easy to write that a long catalogue of authors, both famous and obscure, have attempted it, but in the great majority of cases with very indifferent success. This frequent liability to failure will excite less surprise if it be borne in mind that the possession of the true poetic faculty is not sufficient of itself to guarantee capacity for this inferior branch of the art of versification. writer of vers de société, in order to be genuinely successful, must not only be more or less of a poet, but he must also be a man of the world, in the most liberal sense of the expression; he must have mixed throughout his life with the most refined and cultivated members of his species, not merely as an idle bystander, but as a busy actor in the throng. A professed poet, however exalted his faculty, will seldom write the best vers de société, just because writing is the business of his life; for it appears to be an essential characteristic of these brilliant trifles, that they should be thrown off in the leisure moments of men whose lives are devoted to graver pursuits. Swift was an ardent politician; Prior a zealous ambassador; Suckling, Praed, and Landor were essentially men of action; even Cowper was no recluse, but a man of the world, forced by mental suffering into a state of modified seclusion.

Indeed, it may be affirmed of most of the authors quoted in this volume-and it is curious to see what a large proportion of them are men of a certain social position that they submitted their intellects to the monotonous grindstone of worldly business, and that their poetical compositions were like the sparks which fly off and prove the generous quality of the metal thus applied; and it must be remembered, to pursue the simile, that but for the dull grindstone, however finely tempered the metal might be, there would be no sparks at all in other words, the writer of vers de société needs perpetual contact with the world.

The Editor trusts that he has gathered together nearly all the vers de société of real merit in the English language, at the same time he almost hopes that the cultivated reader will find hardly anything altogether unknown to him. The Editor is of opinion that verse of real excellence and buoyancy is seldom long lost sight of; in other words, that an unknown piece of vers de société probably does not deserve to become better known. The contents of the volume have been selected and winnowed from an enormous mass of inferior verse of the same kind, the great bulk of which did not appear of sufficient merit to deserve insertion.

Many pieces, however, have been pondered over, and at last discarded with regret. Several indeed have been found, whose rejection was especially tantalising, because, though otherwise perfect specimens, their aim and execution was just above the range of

vers de société. Thus, "The Milkmaid's Song," commencing

"Come live with me, and be my love,"

appears to be too highly poetical for admission into this collection, while the less beautiful, but almost as charming "Reply," has been admitted, because it is depressed to the requisite level by the tinge of worldly satire which runs through it. Something of the same kind may be said of Waller's "Lines to a Rose," and his "Lines to a Girdle," and on this account only the last will be found here.

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here

Isaac D'Israeli, in his Miscellanies, has some interesting remarks on vers de société. “The passions of the poet," he says, 'may form the subjects of his verse. It is in his writings he delineates himself; he reflects his tastes, his desires, his humours, his amours, and even his defects. In other poems the poet disappears under the feigned character he assumes alone he speaks, here he acts. He makes a confidant of the reader, interests him in his hopes, and his sorrows. We admire the poet, and conclude with esteeming the man. In these effusions the lover may not unsuccessfully urge his complaints. They may form a compliment for a patron or a congratulation for an artist, a vow of friendship or a hymn of gratitude. . . It must not be supposed that because these productions are concise they have, therefore, the more facility; we must not consider the genius of a poet diminutive because his pieces are so, nor must we cal

them, as a fine sonnet has been called, a difficult trifle. A circle may be very small, yet it may be as mathematically beautiful and perfect as a larger one. Το such compositions we may apply the observation of an ancient critic, that though a little thing gives perfection, yet perfection is not a little thing.

"The poet to succeed in these hazardous pieces must be alike polished by an intercourse with the world, as with the studies of taste, to whom labour is negligence, refinement a science, and art a nature. Genius will not always be sufficient to impart that grace of amenity which seems peculiar to those who are accustomed to elegant society. . . . These productions are more the effusions of taste than genius, and it is not sufficient that the poet is inspired by the Muse, he must also suffer his concise page to be polished by the hand of the Graces."

A reviewer in The Times newspaper has made the following note-worthy remarks on the subject of vers de société, more especially of a certain kind : "It is the poetry of men who belong to society, who have a keen sympathy with the lightsome tone and airy jesting of fashion; who are not disturbed by the flippances of small talk, but, on the contrary, can see the gracefulness of which it is capable, and who, nevertheless, amid all this froth of society, feel that there are depths in our nature, which even in the gaiety of drawingrooms cannot be forgotten. Theirs is the poetry of bitter-sweet, of sentiment that breaks into humour, and of solemn thought, which, lest it should be too

b

solemn, plunges into laughter: it is in an especial sense the verse of society. When society ceases to be simple it becomes sceptical. Nor are we utterly to condemn this sceptical temper as a sign of corruption. It is assumed in self-defence, and becomes a necessity of rapid conversation. When society becomes refined, it begins to dread the exhibition of strong feeling, no matter whether real or simulated. If real, it disturbs the level of conversation and of manners—if simulated, so much the worse. In such an atmosphere, emotion takes refuge in jest, and passion hides itself in scepticism of passion: we are not going to wear our hearts upon our sleeves, rather than that we shall pretend to have no heart at all; and if, perchance, a bit of it should peep out, we shall hide it again as quickly as possible, and laugh at the exposure as a good joke. . In the poets who represent this social mood there is a delicious piquancy, and the way they play at bo-peep with their feelings makes them a class by themselves."

Suckling and Herrick, Swift and Prior, Cowper and Thomas Moore, and Praed and Thackeray, may be considered the representative men in this branch of literature.

Unfortunately, the copyright of Mr. Thackeray's poems has become the property of his publishers, and they have declined to allow any extracts from his works to be printed here; but the Editor has given a list in the Table of Contents of those pieces of vers de société by which he thinks Mr. Thackeray will hereafter be honourably remembered.