Review of Le Paradis Reconquis
author: Elizabeth Moody
source date: December 1789

Elizabeth Moody Art. XIII. Le Paradis Reconquis: Poëme, imité de Milton, par L.R. Lafaye, Gradué en l'Université de Paris, Maitre de Langue Françòise. 12mo. pp. 141. 5s. sewed. Bell. 1789. [This book review originally appeared in the Monthly Review , Vol. 81, December 1789, p.p. 535-537. No information on LaFaye has been located beyond his self-description in his book title. Benjamin Nangle identifies Elizabeth Moody as the author of this review from an editor's marked copy of The Monthly Review . See Nangle, The Montly Review, First Series, 1749-1789: Indexes of Contributors and Articles , Clarendon Press, 1934. Mary A. Waters and Zachary Parker edited this essay for The Criticism Archive.]

WHAT shall we say of this imitation? That we have searched for its appendage, a resemblance, and cannot find it. What can we say of an arrangement of words in the form of blank verse, destitute of cadence and harmony? What but that it is prose in the shape of poetry? Monsieur Lafaye will, perhaps, reply to us with the surprise of Moliere's Bourgeois Gentilhomme, "par ma foy, ily a plus de quarante ans que je dis de la prose, sas que j'en susse rien." But we do not expect him to subjoin the following part of the speech as an address to the Reviewers, "& je vous suis le plus obligé du monde de m'avoir apris cela:" be that as it may, we must proceed on our journey; we have many regions to pass through; from the river Jordan we must fly to Mount Olympus; and from Olympus we must make all possible haste to get back into the wilderness of Judea: but, alas! we Reviewers have not the privileges which our poetical travellers enjoy—we are confined both by time and space. For this reason, Monsieur Lafaye must excuse us if we do not follow him through the whole of his flights and peregrinations.

This poem consists of six cantos; and the subject is as follows:—Satan, elated with the success which he met with when he attempted the seduction of Eve, meditates a victory over Jesus Christ, while he is in the wilderness: but as it is proper that he should consult his peers before he proceeds to business, he summoneth the assembly to Mount Olympus; and, in the first canto, page 8, we are introduced to this no very formidable body, considering they are devils—

Chétive assemblée! où chacun tremble. p. 3. l. 15.

Satan, in a long speech (for he is a most verbose orator), communicates his grand design; which, meeting with general approbation, he sets out on his journey; and with the characteristic vivacity of a French demon, says

———— gaimant
Je vais, mon dessein jadis prospére,
Verse en mon sein le beaume de l'espoir.

Arrived at the desart, he approaches our Saviour under the appearance of an old man, in search of strayed cattle; he is likewise looking for some sticks to make a faggot. He enters into conversation with Jesus; and the temptation by which he hopes to seduce the Saviour of the world, is an offer to shew him the way out of the wilderness. His proposal being rejected with contempt, Satan makes a bow, and vanishes.

In the second canto, the Arch Fiend again assembles his peers. The council appear to be rather tumultuous. Belial is a very turbulent member, and expresses himself with great acrimony toward the race of David:

Parbleu! Comme je sis dégringoler
Toute la famille, sans oublier
Roi Salomon, avec sa sagesse.

And this Roi Solomon he talks of taking by the nose.

In the third canto, Satan renews his temptations in the wilderness; and supposing our Saviour to be very hungry, invites him to eat:—by the power of his magic wand, a table rises in the desart, royalement fervie, on which are displayed all the dainties that the most excellent French cookery can supply, game and poultry,

Bardés, bouillies, rotis, venaison,
Coulis transparens, & sauces ambrées,
Patisseries en tourèttes, gateaux,
Les poissons les plus rares, de source,
Riviéres, étangs, &c.

This repast is exhibited sous un pavillon de verdure, ornamented with fruits and flowers; a splendid buffet presents itself, covered with vases of gold and crystal, and attended by Genii with purple wings. In another part of the desart, Nymphs are dancing sous des bouquets d'arbres; while in another, Zephyrus, Pomona, and the train of Flora, are forming garlands and preparing fruits.—This is pretty scenery for an opera. But as we cannot promise to steer this little French bark safe into port, through the channel of English criticism, we will (without loading it with any more of our strictures) leave it to seek an harbour on its native coast;—it may chance to meet there with a more propitious gale. As to ourselves, we must be candid enough to confess that our English Satan has obtained so much popularity, through the skilful management of our immortal Milton, that we can by no means tolerate French devils.