If any one, on a rainy day or a lonely evening, wishes to drive away the blue devils by the perusal of some laughter-compelling volume, we can recommend for the purpose no better reading than the tragedy of _Hamlet_ done into French verse by the Chevalier de Chatelain, a gentleman well known as a very successful translator of English poetry. With singular good sense and feeling he has selected, not the play as Shakespeare wrote it, but the stage-version thereof, as the foundation of his work. For which Heaven be praised! for what he has done is sufficient, in all conscience. Not that his translation is totally devoid of merit. On the contrary, some passages are admirably rendered, and give the sense and sound of the original in a manner really remarkable when the difference between the two languages is considered. But there is such a calm conviction on M. de Chatelain's part that he is doing his work faultlessly, that, in view of the ludicrous errors, additions and variations with which his text abounds, the effect is irresistible. For instance, to begin at the beginning, the phrase Looks it not like the king? is translated C'est le roi _tout crache_. And in the same scene-- Or if thou hast uphoarded in thy life Extorted treasure in the womb of earth, For which, they say, you spirits oft walk in death, is rendered-- Si, prevaricateur, tu volas des tresors Par ton ordre enfouis dans le sein de la terre, De tels fails vous font faire _ecole buissoniere_ A vous autres esprits. In the next scene we are treated to a small specimen of M. de Chatelain's genius as an emendator of Shakespeare. For no one can consider this passage a translation of the text: Venez, Dame, venez. Ce J'y consens si doux, Si spontane de Hamlet m'enchante et m'enivre. C'est pour moi _le charmant feuillet d'un charmant livre._ That charming page of a delightful book will, we think, be sought for in the original in vain. Still more delicious is the interpellation into Hamlet's first soliloquy of the following lines, referring to the "unweeded garden": Ces jours qu'on nous montre superbes Sont un vilain jardin, rempli de folles herbes, Qui donnent de l'ivraie et certes rien de plus, Si ce n'est les engins du _cholera morbus_. Angels and ministers of grace, defend us! When _did_ Hamlet talk about the cholera morbus? Passing over some minor variations, we come to the brief closing soliloquy of the scene: My father's spirit in arms! all is not well; I doubt some foul play: would the night were come! Thus Shakespeare, and thus M. de Chatelain: Le spectre de mon pere--arme! Vraiment ca cloche! Je flaire, je le crains, _quelqu' anguille sous roche_! Doubtless Hamlet did "smell a rat," but this is the first intimation we have had of his scenting an eel. Thus Hamlet addresses the ghost: