of Sir Benjamin Backbite, in Lady Sneerwell’s drawing-room, on the macaroni ponies whose “Legs were so slim, And their tails were so long.” The refinements and elegance of speech to be heard at those _réunions_, fostered, and indeed were a powerful influence in, the reformation effected by the Académie for the French language. But the passion for these improvements was often torn to tatters, and the puerilities and affectations excited a reaction among men of the more Bohemian class of writers and versifiers, such as Scarron, St Amand and others, and the curious mixture of real poetic expression and thought, profanity and coarseness, in their productions, carry back to the days of Rabelais and of Villon, with echoes of Ronsard and of Charles of Orléans. But the simplicity and beauty of their numbers only now and again shone through the grossness of their compositions, and sheer opposition to the “Clélies” and “Uranies” and “Sapphos” probably inspired the numerous parodies and the odes to cheese and good feeding produced by these authors, who hailed with delight the now famous actor-manager Molière’s _Précieuses Ridicules_. The piece was first produced at the Petit-Bourbon early in the winter of 1659. The plot, deep-laid if simple, consists of the successful playing off by two lovers respectively of the two charming young women they love honestly and deeply, but who meet refusal on the score of their language being too natural, and their attire not sufficiently fashionable. The two young men thereupon dress up their valets, Mascarille and Jodelet, in fine costumes, bestow on them the titles of marquis and vicomte, and contrive to introduce them to the _précieuses_. The exquisite humour of the dialogue between Gorgibus, the father of one of the two girls, and uncle of the other, sets the ball rolling; his contempt for the new names, Aminte and Policène, which they have selected in place of those given them, as he says, by their godfathers and godmothers; his dim grasp of what he calls their jargon, when they try to instil into him some idea of its elegancies, is the essence of genuine comicality, as are the compliments of the two aristocratic visitors who inform the ladies that it is the reports of their exquisite attractions and beauty, reaching far and wide, which has brought them to their feet. Then follows the flutter of delight, veiled under the attempt at calm graciousness, of the _précieuses_. “But Monsieur,” says Cathos to Mascarille, the marquis, inviting him to sit down, “I entreat you not to be inexorable to this armchair, which has been stretching out its arms to you for this quarter of an hour past; allow it the satisfaction of embracing you.” The fun grows apace, as the slips of tongue and bearing of the two pretended gentlemen begin to disconcert the two infatuated girls. At last a dance is proposed, the fiddlers are sent for, and behind them enter the two masters of the valets, who tear their fine