M. Barthelemy has written some poetry much in the same strain,
which is rather pungent, but he latterly appears to have sunk into the
same slumber which seems to have enveloped so many of the present
literary men of France. M. Deschamps now and then produces some poetic
effusions which are pleasing, and prove the author to be possessed of
that ability which would induce a wish that his works were less brief
and more frequently before the public. But taking all into
consideration, this is by no means a literary era in France; the
nineteenth century has not yet produced any such names as Montesquieu,
Voltaire, Rousseau, and many others, who have shed a lustre on the
French name; there are no doubt many clever men still living who have
written scientific works upon medicine, surgery, natural history,
physiology, botany, astronomy, etc., whilst the names of De Jussieu and
Arago, as eminent in the latter sciences, are known all over Europe, as
well as many others who are celebrated in their different departments.

Although the present age is not fecund in the production of French
genius as relates to the polite arts, yet there never was a period when
there was more anxiety for their promotion, and now all classes read;
but the reading of the lower orders consists principally of a political
nature; the newspapers now however have what is called a _feuilleton_,
which embraces many subjects, and appears to interest all; the
criticisms on the theatrical performances are perused with much avidity,
an extreme partiality for dramatic representations still forms a
considerable portion of the French character, as also a general love of
music, without being at all particular as to its quality; no matter how
trifling it be, as long as there is any thing of an air distinguishable
it will please. There are at present a host of composers in France
whose fame will probably be not so long as their lives; Paris is
inundated every year with a number of insignificant ballads which just
have their day, and if perchance there should be one or more that are
really clever amongst the mass of dross which comes forth, after a
twelvemonth no one would think of singing it because it has already been
pronounced _ancienne_, and it is completely laid aside, and in a few
years so totally cast in oblivion, that it cannot even be procured of
any of the music-sellers, or anywhere else: this was the case with some
delightful airs which appeared about ten year