feminine character, as ferocity of sentiment. Nothing fo deeply ftains the human character, as ingratitude.

This lady, however odious fhe appears to the fpectator, is made to engage Cinna her lover, a nephew of the great Pompey, in a confpiracy against Auguftus. Shakespear moft judiciously laboured to fhew, that Brutus's motives to kill Cæfar were perfectly. generous, and purely public-fpirited. Corneille has not kindled Cinna to his enterprize, with any spark of Roman fire. In every thing he appears treacherous, base, and timid. Maximus, the other confpirator, feems at first a better character; but in the third act he makes a moft lamentable confeffion to a flave, of his love for Emilia, and his jealoufy of Cinna: this Slave gives fuch advice as one might expect from such a counsellor; he urges him to betray his affociates, and by means of a Lie, to prevail upon Emilia to go off with him. Thus Maximus becomes as treacherous and bafe as Cinna his friend, and Emilia his mistress.

The

The Poet follows Seneca's account of this affair, in making Livia (who has no other business in the drama) advise Auguftus to try the effects of clemency, as his punishment of former confpiracies excited new ones. Auguftus tells her she talks like a wornan, treats her counsel with scorn, and then follows it. Auguftus appears with dignity and sense in the other scene, and is the only perfon in the play for whom one has any respect. This is the plan of a work which is to prove Corneille's genius and judgment superior to Shakespear's. As Mr. Voltaire has given his translation of Julius Cæfar, I will just present to the reader a literal tranflation of the first scene of the first Act, which begins by a foliloquy.

CINNA, TRAGEDIE. ACTE PREMIER. SCENE PREMIERE.

EMILIE.

Impatiens défirs d'une illuftre vengeance,

Dont la mort de mon pére à formé la naissance,
Enfans impetueux de mon reffentiment,

Que

Que ma douleur feduite émbraffe aveuglément, Vous prenez fur mon ame un trop puissant empire: Durant quelques momens fouffrez que je refpire, Et que je confidere, en l'etat où je fuis, Et ce que je hazarde, &'ce que je poursuis. Quand je regarde Augufte au milieu de fá gloire, Et que vous reprochez à ma trifte mémoire Que par fa propre main mon pére maffacré Du trône où je le vois fait le premier degré: Quand vous me prefentez cette fanglante image, La caufe da ma haine, & l'effet de fa rage, Je m'abandonne toute à vos ardens tranfports, Et crois pour une mort lui devoir mille morts. Au milieu toutefois d'une fureur fi jufte, J'aime encor plus Cinna que je ne hais Auguste; Et je fens refroidir ce bouillant mouvement, Quand il faut pour le fuivre expofer mon amant. Oui, Cinna, contre moi moi-même je m'irrite, Quand je fonge aux dangers où je te précipite. Quoique pour me fervir tu n'apprehendes rien, Te demander du sang, c'est exposer le tien. D'une fi haute place on n'abat point de têtes, Sans attirer fur foi mille & mille tempêtes; L'éfue en est douteufe, & le peril certain. Un ami deloyal peut trahir ton deffein;

L'ordre

L'ordre mal concerté, l'occafion mal prife,
Peuvent fur fon auteur renverfer l'entreprife,
Tourner fur toi les coups dont tu le veux frapper;
Dans fa ruine même il peut t'enveloper;

Et quoiqu'en ma faveur ton amour exécute,
Il te peut en tombant écrafer fous fa chute.
Ah! ceffe de courir à ce mortel danger :
Te perdre en me vengeant ce n'eft pas me venger.
Un cœur eft trop cruel quand il trouve des charmes
Aux douceurs que corrompt l'amertume des larmes;
Et l'on doit mettre au rang des plus cuifans malheurs
La mort d'un ennemi qui coute tant de pleurs.

Mais peut-on en verfer alors qu'on venge un pere?
Eft-il perte à ce prix qui ne semble légére ?
Et quand fon affaffin tombe fous notre effort,
Doit-on confiderer ce que coûte fa mort?
Ceffez, vaines frayeurs, ceffez, lâches tendreffes,
De jetter dans mon cœur vos indignes faibleffes;
Et toi qui les produis par tes foins fuperflus.

Amour, fers mon devoir, & ne le combats plus.

Lui ceder c'est ta gloire, & le vaincre ta honte ;

Montre-toi genereux, fouffrant qu'il te furmonte.
Plus tu lui donneras, plus il te va donner,
Et ne triomphera que pour te couronner.

I do not pretend, as Mr. Voltaire does, to make the reader a judge of the stile of Corneille by my translation; he must allow for the want of verfification, and be content with the thoughts, the fentiments, the conceits of the original.

EMILIA.

Impatient defires of an illuftrious vengeance, to which the death of my father gave birth, impetuous children of my resentment, which my deluded forrow embraces too blindly, you affume too great an empire over my mind. Suffer me to breathe a moment, and let me consider the state I am in, what I hazard, and what I would attempt. When I behold Cæfar in the midft of glory, you (I suppose this means, you the impetuous children of the impatient defires of an illustrious vengeance) reproach my melancholymemory, that my father, maffacred by his hand, was the first step to the throne on which I fee him. And when you prefent me that bloody image, the cause of my hatred, the effect of his

rage, I

abandon