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The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Short History of French
Literature
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Title: A Short History of French Literature
Author: George Saintsbury
Release date: July 3, 2010 [eBook #33062]
Most recently updated: January 6, 2021
Language: English
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/33062
Credits: Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Josephine Paolucci and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net.
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A SHORT
HISTORY OF FRENCH LITERATURE ***
London
Literature
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of
the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will
have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using
this eBook.
Title: A Short History of French Literature
Author: George Saintsbury
Release date: July 3, 2010 [eBook #33062]
Most recently updated: January 6, 2021
Language: English
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/33062
Credits: Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Josephine Paolucci and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net.
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A SHORT
HISTORY OF FRENCH LITERATURE ***
London
Page 4
HENRY FROWDE
Oxford University Press Warehouse
Amen Corner, E.C.
New York
112 Fourth Avenue
Clarendon Press Series
Oxford University Press Warehouse
Amen Corner, E.C.
New York
112 Fourth Avenue
Clarendon Press Series
Page 5
A SHORT HISTORY
OF
FRENCH LITERATURE
BY
OF
FRENCH LITERATURE
BY
Page 6
GEORGE SAINTSBURY
FOURTH EDITION
Oxford
AT THE CLARENDON PRESS
1892
Oxford
HORACE HART, PRINTER TO THE UNIVERSITY
FOURTH EDITION
Oxford
AT THE CLARENDON PRESS
1892
Oxford
HORACE HART, PRINTER TO THE UNIVERSITY
Page 7
PREFACE.
An attempt to present to students a succinct history of the course of French
literature compiled from an examination of that literature itself, and not
merely from previous accounts of it is, I believe, a new one in English.
There will be observed in the parts of this Short History a considerable
difference of method; and as such a difference is not usual in works of the
kind, it may be well to state the reasons which have induced me to adopt it.
Early French literature is to a great extent anonymous. Moreover, even
where it is not, the authors were usually more influenced by certain
prevalent styles or forms than by anything else. Into these forms they threw
without considerations of congruity whatever they had to say. Nothing, for
instance, can be less suitable for historical or scientific disquisition than the
octosyllabic metre of a satiric poem. But Jean de Meung and one at least of
the authors of Renart le Contrefait[1] do not think of composing prose
diatribes. At one moment and place the form of the Chanson de Geste is all-
absorbing, at another the form of the Roman d'Aventures, at another the
form of the Fabliau. In Book I. I shall therefore proceed by these forms,
giving an account of each separately.
After Villon the case changes. Instead of classes of chroniclers, trouvères,
jongleurs, we get individual authors of eminence and individuality striking
out their own way and saying their own say in the manner not that is
fashionable but that seems best to them. During this time, therefore, and
especially during that brilliant age of French literature, the sixteenth
century, I shall proceed by authors, taking the most remarkable individually,
and grouping their followers around them.
From the time of Malherbe the system of schools begins, divided according
to subjects. The poet, the dramatist, the historian, have their predecessors,
and either intentionally copy them or intentionally innovate upon them.
Malherbe and Delille, Corneille and Lemercier, Sarrasin and Rulhière,
whatever the difference of merit, stand to one another in a definite relation,
and the later writers represent more or less the accepted traditions each of
his school. In this part, therefore, I shall proceed by subjects, taking
An attempt to present to students a succinct history of the course of French
literature compiled from an examination of that literature itself, and not
merely from previous accounts of it is, I believe, a new one in English.
There will be observed in the parts of this Short History a considerable
difference of method; and as such a difference is not usual in works of the
kind, it may be well to state the reasons which have induced me to adopt it.
Early French literature is to a great extent anonymous. Moreover, even
where it is not, the authors were usually more influenced by certain
prevalent styles or forms than by anything else. Into these forms they threw
without considerations of congruity whatever they had to say. Nothing, for
instance, can be less suitable for historical or scientific disquisition than the
octosyllabic metre of a satiric poem. But Jean de Meung and one at least of
the authors of Renart le Contrefait[1] do not think of composing prose
diatribes. At one moment and place the form of the Chanson de Geste is all-
absorbing, at another the form of the Roman d'Aventures, at another the
form of the Fabliau. In Book I. I shall therefore proceed by these forms,
giving an account of each separately.
After Villon the case changes. Instead of classes of chroniclers, trouvères,
jongleurs, we get individual authors of eminence and individuality striking
out their own way and saying their own say in the manner not that is
fashionable but that seems best to them. During this time, therefore, and
especially during that brilliant age of French literature, the sixteenth
century, I shall proceed by authors, taking the most remarkable individually,
and grouping their followers around them.
From the time of Malherbe the system of schools begins, divided according
to subjects. The poet, the dramatist, the historian, have their predecessors,
and either intentionally copy them or intentionally innovate upon them.
Malherbe and Delille, Corneille and Lemercier, Sarrasin and Rulhière,
whatever the difference of merit, stand to one another in a definite relation,
and the later writers represent more or less the accepted traditions each of
his school. In this part, therefore, I shall proceed by subjects, taking
Page 8
historians, poets, dramatists, etc., together. One difference will be noticed
between the third and fourth Books, dealing respectively with the
seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. It has seemed unnecessary to allot a
special chapter to theological and ecclesiastical writing in the latter, or to
scientific writing in the former.
Almost all writers who have attempted literary histories in a small compass
have recognised the difficulty, or rather impossibility, of treating
contemporary or recent work on the same scale as older authors. In treating,
therefore, of literature subsequent to the appearance of the Romantic
movement, I shall content myself with giving a rapid sketch of the principal
literary developments and their exponents.
There are doubtless objections to this quadripartite arrangement; but it
appears to me better suited for the purpose of laying the foundations of an
acquaintance with French literature than a more uniform plan.
The space at my disposal does not admit of combining full information as to
the literature with elaborate literary comment upon its characteristics, and
there can be no doubt that in such a book as this, destined for purposes of
education chiefly, the latter must be sacrificed to the former. As an instance
of the sacrifice I may refer to Bk. I. Ch. II. There are some forty or fifty
Chansons de Gestes in print, all of which save two or three I have read, and
almost every one of which presents points on which it would be most
interesting to me to comment. But to do this in the limits would be
impossible. Nor is it easy to enter upon disputed literary questions, however
tempting they may be. On such points as the relations of Northern to
Provençal poetry, the origin of the Chansons and the Arthurian romances,
the successive versions of Froissart, the authenticity of the last book of
Rabelais, it is only possible here to indicate the most probable conclusions.
Generally speaking, the scale of treatment will be found to be adjusted to
the system of division already stated. In the middle ages, where the
importance of the general form surpasses that of the individual
practitioners, comparatively small space is given to these individuals, and
little attempt is made to follow up the scanty and often conjectural
particulars of their lives. In the later books I have endeavoured (departing in
this respect from the system of my two former sketches of the subject, the
article on 'French Literature' in the ninth edition of the Encyclopædia
between the third and fourth Books, dealing respectively with the
seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. It has seemed unnecessary to allot a
special chapter to theological and ecclesiastical writing in the latter, or to
scientific writing in the former.
Almost all writers who have attempted literary histories in a small compass
have recognised the difficulty, or rather impossibility, of treating
contemporary or recent work on the same scale as older authors. In treating,
therefore, of literature subsequent to the appearance of the Romantic
movement, I shall content myself with giving a rapid sketch of the principal
literary developments and their exponents.
There are doubtless objections to this quadripartite arrangement; but it
appears to me better suited for the purpose of laying the foundations of an
acquaintance with French literature than a more uniform plan.
The space at my disposal does not admit of combining full information as to
the literature with elaborate literary comment upon its characteristics, and
there can be no doubt that in such a book as this, destined for purposes of
education chiefly, the latter must be sacrificed to the former. As an instance
of the sacrifice I may refer to Bk. I. Ch. II. There are some forty or fifty
Chansons de Gestes in print, all of which save two or three I have read, and
almost every one of which presents points on which it would be most
interesting to me to comment. But to do this in the limits would be
impossible. Nor is it easy to enter upon disputed literary questions, however
tempting they may be. On such points as the relations of Northern to
Provençal poetry, the origin of the Chansons and the Arthurian romances,
the successive versions of Froissart, the authenticity of the last book of
Rabelais, it is only possible here to indicate the most probable conclusions.
Generally speaking, the scale of treatment will be found to be adjusted to
the system of division already stated. In the middle ages, where the
importance of the general form surpasses that of the individual
practitioners, comparatively small space is given to these individuals, and
little attempt is made to follow up the scanty and often conjectural
particulars of their lives. In the later books I have endeavoured (departing in
this respect from the system of my two former sketches of the subject, the
article on 'French Literature' in the ninth edition of the Encyclopædia
Page 9
Britannica and the Primer which has preceded this work in the Clarendon
Press Series) to deal more fully with the greater names whose work is most
instructive, and as to whom most curiosity is likely to be felt.
If, as seems very likely, these explanations should not content some of my
critics, I can only say that the passages which they may miss here would
have been far easier and far pleasanter for me to write than the passages
which they will here find. This volume attempts to be, not a series of
causeries on the literary history of France, but a Short History of French
Literature. Two things only I have uniformly aimed at, accuracy as absolute
as I could secure, and completeness as thorough as space would allow. In
the pursuit of the former object I have thought it well to take no fact or
opinion at second-hand where the originals were accessible to me.
Manuscript sources I do not pretend to have consulted; but any judgment
which is passed in this book may be taken as founded on personal
acquaintance with the book or author unless the contrary be stated. Some
familiarity with the subject has convinced me that nowhere are opinions of
doubtful accuracy more frequently adopted and handed on without enquiry
than in the history of literature.
Those who read this book for purposes of study will, it is hoped, be already
acquainted with the Primer, which is, in effect, an introduction to it, and
which contains what may be called a bird's-eye view of the subject. But, lest
the wood should be lost sight of for the trees, notes or interchapters have
been inserted between the several books, indicating the general lines of
development followed by the great literature which I have attempted to
survey. To these I have for the most part confined generalisations as distinct
from facts.
I have, I believe, given in the notes a sufficient list of authorities which
those who desire to follow up the subject may consult. I have not been
indiscriminately lavish in indicating editions of authors, though I believe
that full information will be found as to those necessary for a scholarly
working knowledge of French literature. I had originally hoped to illustrate
the whole book with extracts; but I discovered that such a course would
either swell it to an undesirable bulk, or else would provide passages too
short and too few to be of much use. I have therefore confined the extracts
to the mediaeval period, which can be illustrated by selections of moderate
Press Series) to deal more fully with the greater names whose work is most
instructive, and as to whom most curiosity is likely to be felt.
If, as seems very likely, these explanations should not content some of my
critics, I can only say that the passages which they may miss here would
have been far easier and far pleasanter for me to write than the passages
which they will here find. This volume attempts to be, not a series of
causeries on the literary history of France, but a Short History of French
Literature. Two things only I have uniformly aimed at, accuracy as absolute
as I could secure, and completeness as thorough as space would allow. In
the pursuit of the former object I have thought it well to take no fact or
opinion at second-hand where the originals were accessible to me.
Manuscript sources I do not pretend to have consulted; but any judgment
which is passed in this book may be taken as founded on personal
acquaintance with the book or author unless the contrary be stated. Some
familiarity with the subject has convinced me that nowhere are opinions of
doubtful accuracy more frequently adopted and handed on without enquiry
than in the history of literature.
Those who read this book for purposes of study will, it is hoped, be already
acquainted with the Primer, which is, in effect, an introduction to it, and
which contains what may be called a bird's-eye view of the subject. But, lest
the wood should be lost sight of for the trees, notes or interchapters have
been inserted between the several books, indicating the general lines of
development followed by the great literature which I have attempted to
survey. To these I have for the most part confined generalisations as distinct
from facts.
I have, I believe, given in the notes a sufficient list of authorities which
those who desire to follow up the subject may consult. I have not been
indiscriminately lavish in indicating editions of authors, though I believe
that full information will be found as to those necessary for a scholarly
working knowledge of French literature. I had originally hoped to illustrate
the whole book with extracts; but I discovered that such a course would
either swell it to an undesirable bulk, or else would provide passages too
short and too few to be of much use. I have therefore confined the extracts
to the mediaeval period, which can be illustrated by selections of moderate
Page 10
length, and in which such illustration, from the general resemblance
between the individuals of each class, and the comparative rarity of the
original texts, is specially desirable. To avoid the serious drawback of the
difference of principle on which old French reprints have been constructed,
as many of these extracts as possible have been printed from Herr Karl
Bartsch's admirable Chrestomathie. But in cases where extracts were either
not to be found there, or were not, in my judgment, sufficiently
characteristic, I have departed from this plan. The illustration, by extracts,
of the later literature, which requires more space, has been reserved for a
separate volume.
I had also intended to subjoin some tabular views of the chief literary
forms, authors, and books of the successive centuries. But when I formed
this intention I was not aware that such tables already existed in a book very
likely to be in the hands of those who use this work, M. Gustave Masson's
French Dictionary. Although the plan I had formed was not quite identical
with his, and though the execution might have differed in detail, it seemed
both unnecessary and to a certain extent ungracious to trespass on the same
field. With regard to dates the Index will, it is believed, be found to contain
the date of the birth and death, or, if these be not obtainable, the floruit of
every deceased author of any importance who is mentioned in the book. It
has not seemed necessary invariably to duplicate this information in the
text. I have also availed myself of this Index (for the compilation of which I
owe many thanks to Miss S. A. Ingham) to insert a very few particulars,
which seemed to find a better place there than in the body of the volume, as
being not strictly literary.
In conclusion, I think it well to say that the composition of this book has,
owing to the constant pressure of unavoidable occupations, been spread
over a considerable period, and has sometimes been interrupted for many
weeks or even months. This being the case, I fear that there may be some
omissions, perhaps some inconsistencies, not improbably some downright
errors. I do not ask indulgence for these, because that no author who
voluntarily publishes a book has a right to ask, nor, perhaps, have critics a
right to give it. But if any critic will point out to me any errors of fact, I can
promise repentance, as speedy amendment as may be, and what is more,
gratitude.
between the individuals of each class, and the comparative rarity of the
original texts, is specially desirable. To avoid the serious drawback of the
difference of principle on which old French reprints have been constructed,
as many of these extracts as possible have been printed from Herr Karl
Bartsch's admirable Chrestomathie. But in cases where extracts were either
not to be found there, or were not, in my judgment, sufficiently
characteristic, I have departed from this plan. The illustration, by extracts,
of the later literature, which requires more space, has been reserved for a
separate volume.
I had also intended to subjoin some tabular views of the chief literary
forms, authors, and books of the successive centuries. But when I formed
this intention I was not aware that such tables already existed in a book very
likely to be in the hands of those who use this work, M. Gustave Masson's
French Dictionary. Although the plan I had formed was not quite identical
with his, and though the execution might have differed in detail, it seemed
both unnecessary and to a certain extent ungracious to trespass on the same
field. With regard to dates the Index will, it is believed, be found to contain
the date of the birth and death, or, if these be not obtainable, the floruit of
every deceased author of any importance who is mentioned in the book. It
has not seemed necessary invariably to duplicate this information in the
text. I have also availed myself of this Index (for the compilation of which I
owe many thanks to Miss S. A. Ingham) to insert a very few particulars,
which seemed to find a better place there than in the body of the volume, as
being not strictly literary.
In conclusion, I think it well to say that the composition of this book has,
owing to the constant pressure of unavoidable occupations, been spread
over a considerable period, and has sometimes been interrupted for many
weeks or even months. This being the case, I fear that there may be some
omissions, perhaps some inconsistencies, not improbably some downright
errors. I do not ask indulgence for these, because that no author who
voluntarily publishes a book has a right to ask, nor, perhaps, have critics a
right to give it. But if any critic will point out to me any errors of fact, I can
promise repentance, as speedy amendment as may be, and what is more,
gratitude.
Page 11
(1882.)
Preface to the Second Edition.—In the second edition the text has been very
carefully revised. All corrections of fact indicated by critics and private
correspondents, both English and French (among whom I owe especial
thanks to M. A. Beljame), have, after verification, been made. A
considerable number of additional dates of the publication of important
books have been inserted in the text, and the Index has undergone a strict
examination, resulting in the correction of some faults which were due not
to the original compiler but to myself. On the suggestion of several
competent authorities a Conclusion, following the lines of the Interchapters,
is now added. If less deference is shown to some strictures which have been
passed on the plan of the work and the author's literary views, it is due
merely to the conviction that a writer must write his own book in his own
way if it is to be of any good to anybody. But in a few places modifications
of phrases which seemed to have been misconceived or to be capable of
misconception have been made. I have only to add sincere thanks to my
critics for the very general and, I fear, scarcely deserved approval with
which this Short History of a long subject has been received, and to my
readers for the promptness with which a second edition of it has been
demanded.
(1884.)
Preface to the Third Edition.—In making, once more, an examination of
this book for the purposes of a third edition I have again done my best to
correct such mistakes as must (I think I may say inevitably) occur in a very
large number of compressed statements about matter often in itself of great
minuteness and complexity. I have found some such mistakes, and I make
no doubt that I have left some.
In the process of examination I have had the assistance of two detailed
reviews of parts of the book by two French critics, each of very high repute
in his way. The first of these, by M. Gaston Paris, in Romania (XII, 602
sqq.), devoted to the mediæval section only, actually appeared before my
second edition: but accident prevented my availing myself of it fully,
though some important corrections suggested by it were made on a slip
inserted in most of the copies of that issue. The assistance thus given by M.
Preface to the Second Edition.—In the second edition the text has been very
carefully revised. All corrections of fact indicated by critics and private
correspondents, both English and French (among whom I owe especial
thanks to M. A. Beljame), have, after verification, been made. A
considerable number of additional dates of the publication of important
books have been inserted in the text, and the Index has undergone a strict
examination, resulting in the correction of some faults which were due not
to the original compiler but to myself. On the suggestion of several
competent authorities a Conclusion, following the lines of the Interchapters,
is now added. If less deference is shown to some strictures which have been
passed on the plan of the work and the author's literary views, it is due
merely to the conviction that a writer must write his own book in his own
way if it is to be of any good to anybody. But in a few places modifications
of phrases which seemed to have been misconceived or to be capable of
misconception have been made. I have only to add sincere thanks to my
critics for the very general and, I fear, scarcely deserved approval with
which this Short History of a long subject has been received, and to my
readers for the promptness with which a second edition of it has been
demanded.
(1884.)
Preface to the Third Edition.—In making, once more, an examination of
this book for the purposes of a third edition I have again done my best to
correct such mistakes as must (I think I may say inevitably) occur in a very
large number of compressed statements about matter often in itself of great
minuteness and complexity. I have found some such mistakes, and I make
no doubt that I have left some.
In the process of examination I have had the assistance of two detailed
reviews of parts of the book by two French critics, each of very high repute
in his way. The first of these, by M. Gaston Paris, in Romania (XII, 602
sqq.), devoted to the mediæval section only, actually appeared before my
second edition: but accident prevented my availing myself of it fully,
though some important corrections suggested by it were made on a slip
inserted in most of the copies of that issue. The assistance thus given by M.
Page 12
Paris (whose forbearance in using his great learning as a specialist I have
most cordially to acknowledge) has been supplemented by the appearance,
quite recently, of an admirable condensed sketch of his own[2], which,
compact as it is, is a very storehouse of information on the subject. If in this
book I have not invariably accepted M. Paris' views or embodied his
corrections, it is merely because in points of opinion and inference as
opposed to ascertained fact, the use of independent judgment seems to me
always advisable.
The other criticism (in this case of the later part of my book), by M.
Edmond Scherer, would not seem to have been written in the same spirit.
M. Scherer holds very different views from mine on literature in general
and French literature in particular; he seems (which is perhaps natural) not
to be able to forgive me the difference, and to imagine (which if not
unnatural is perhaps a little unreasonable, a little uncharitable, and even,
considering an express statement in my preface, a little impolite) that I
cannot have read the works on which we differ. I am however grateful to
him for showing that a decidedly hostile examination, conducted with great
minuteness and carefully confined to those parts of the subject with which
the critic is best acquainted, resulted in nothing but the discovery of about
half a dozen or a dozen misprints and slips of fact[3]. One only of these (the
very unpardonable blunder of letting Madame de Staël's Considérations
appear as an early work, which I do not know how I came either to commit
or to overlook) is of real importance. Such slips I have corrected with due
gratitude. But I have not altered passages where M. Scherer mistakes facts
or mistakes me. I need hardly say that I have made no alterations in
criticism, and that the passage referring to M. Scherer himself (with the
exception of a superfluous accent) stands precisely as it did.
Some additions have been made to the latter part of the book, but not very
many: for the attempt to 'write up' such a history to date every few years
can only lead to confusion and disproportion. I have had, during the decade
which has passed since the book was first planned, rather unusual
opportunities of acquainting myself with all new French books of any
importance, but a history is not a periodical, and I have thought it best to
give rather grudging than free admittance to new-comers. On the other
hand, I have endeavoured, as far as possible, to obliterate chronological
references which the effluxion of time has rendered, or may render,
most cordially to acknowledge) has been supplemented by the appearance,
quite recently, of an admirable condensed sketch of his own[2], which,
compact as it is, is a very storehouse of information on the subject. If in this
book I have not invariably accepted M. Paris' views or embodied his
corrections, it is merely because in points of opinion and inference as
opposed to ascertained fact, the use of independent judgment seems to me
always advisable.
The other criticism (in this case of the later part of my book), by M.
Edmond Scherer, would not seem to have been written in the same spirit.
M. Scherer holds very different views from mine on literature in general
and French literature in particular; he seems (which is perhaps natural) not
to be able to forgive me the difference, and to imagine (which if not
unnatural is perhaps a little unreasonable, a little uncharitable, and even,
considering an express statement in my preface, a little impolite) that I
cannot have read the works on which we differ. I am however grateful to
him for showing that a decidedly hostile examination, conducted with great
minuteness and carefully confined to those parts of the subject with which
the critic is best acquainted, resulted in nothing but the discovery of about
half a dozen or a dozen misprints and slips of fact[3]. One only of these (the
very unpardonable blunder of letting Madame de Staël's Considérations
appear as an early work, which I do not know how I came either to commit
or to overlook) is of real importance. Such slips I have corrected with due
gratitude. But I have not altered passages where M. Scherer mistakes facts
or mistakes me. I need hardly say that I have made no alterations in
criticism, and that the passage referring to M. Scherer himself (with the
exception of a superfluous accent) stands precisely as it did.
Some additions have been made to the latter part of the book, but not very
many: for the attempt to 'write up' such a history to date every few years
can only lead to confusion and disproportion. I have had, during the decade
which has passed since the book was first planned, rather unusual
opportunities of acquainting myself with all new French books of any
importance, but a history is not a periodical, and I have thought it best to
give rather grudging than free admittance to new-comers. On the other
hand, I have endeavoured, as far as possible, to obliterate chronological
references which the effluxion of time has rendered, or may render,
Page 13
misleading. The notes to which it seemed most important to attract
attention, as modifying or enlarging some statement in the text, are
specially headed 'Notes to Third Edition': but they represent only a small
part of the labour which has been expended on the text. I have also again
overhauled and very considerably enlarged the index; while the
amplification of the 'Contents' by subjoining to each chapter-heading a list
of the side-headings of the paragraphs it contains, will, I think, be found an
advantage. And so I commend the book once more to readers and to
students[4].
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Note to Third Edition.—M. Gaston Paris expresses some surprise at my
saying 'one of the authors,' and attributes both versions to the Troyes clerk (see
pp. 52, 53). I can only say that so long as Renart le Contrefait is unpublished, if
not longer, such a question is difficult to decide: and that the accepted
monograph on the subject (that of Wolf) left on my mind the impression of
plural authorship as probable.
[2] La Littérature Française du Moyen Age (Paris, 1888).
[3] A preface is but an ill place for controversy. As however M. Scherer, thanks
chiefly to the late Mr. Matthew Arnold, enjoys some repute in England, I may
give an example of his censure. He accuses me roundly of giving in my thirty
dates of Corneille's plays 'une dizaine de fausses,' and he quotes (as I do) M.
Marty-Laveaux. As since the beginning, years ago, of my Cornelian studies, I
have constantly used that excellent edition, though, now as always, reserving my
own judgment on points of opinion, I verified M. Scherer's appeal with some
alarm at first, and more amusement afterwards. The eminent critic of the Temps
had apparently contented himself with turning to the half-titles of the plays and
noting the dates given, which in ten instances do differ from mine. Had his
patience been equal to consulting the learned editor's Notices, he would have
found in every case but one the reasons which prevailed and prevail with me
given by M. Marty-Laveaux himself. The one exception I admit. I was guilty of
the iniquity of confusing the date of the publication of Othon with the date of its
production, and printing 1665 instead of 1664. So dangerous is it to digest and
weigh an editor's arguments, instead of simply copying his dates. Had I done the
latter, I had 'scaped M. Scherer's tooth.
[4] The remarks on M. Scherer in this preface (and I need hardly say still more
those which occur in the body of the book with reference to a few others of his
criticisms) were written long before his fatal illness, and had been sent finally to
press some time before the announcement of his death. I had at first thought of
endeavouring to suppress those which could be recalled. But it seemed to me on
reflection that the best compliment to the memory of a man who was himself
nothing if not uncompromising, and towards whom, whether alive or dead, I am
attention, as modifying or enlarging some statement in the text, are
specially headed 'Notes to Third Edition': but they represent only a small
part of the labour which has been expended on the text. I have also again
overhauled and very considerably enlarged the index; while the
amplification of the 'Contents' by subjoining to each chapter-heading a list
of the side-headings of the paragraphs it contains, will, I think, be found an
advantage. And so I commend the book once more to readers and to
students[4].
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Note to Third Edition.—M. Gaston Paris expresses some surprise at my
saying 'one of the authors,' and attributes both versions to the Troyes clerk (see
pp. 52, 53). I can only say that so long as Renart le Contrefait is unpublished, if
not longer, such a question is difficult to decide: and that the accepted
monograph on the subject (that of Wolf) left on my mind the impression of
plural authorship as probable.
[2] La Littérature Française du Moyen Age (Paris, 1888).
[3] A preface is but an ill place for controversy. As however M. Scherer, thanks
chiefly to the late Mr. Matthew Arnold, enjoys some repute in England, I may
give an example of his censure. He accuses me roundly of giving in my thirty
dates of Corneille's plays 'une dizaine de fausses,' and he quotes (as I do) M.
Marty-Laveaux. As since the beginning, years ago, of my Cornelian studies, I
have constantly used that excellent edition, though, now as always, reserving my
own judgment on points of opinion, I verified M. Scherer's appeal with some
alarm at first, and more amusement afterwards. The eminent critic of the Temps
had apparently contented himself with turning to the half-titles of the plays and
noting the dates given, which in ten instances do differ from mine. Had his
patience been equal to consulting the learned editor's Notices, he would have
found in every case but one the reasons which prevailed and prevail with me
given by M. Marty-Laveaux himself. The one exception I admit. I was guilty of
the iniquity of confusing the date of the publication of Othon with the date of its
production, and printing 1665 instead of 1664. So dangerous is it to digest and
weigh an editor's arguments, instead of simply copying his dates. Had I done the
latter, I had 'scaped M. Scherer's tooth.
[4] The remarks on M. Scherer in this preface (and I need hardly say still more
those which occur in the body of the book with reference to a few others of his
criticisms) were written long before his fatal illness, and had been sent finally to
press some time before the announcement of his death. I had at first thought of
endeavouring to suppress those which could be recalled. But it seemed to me on
reflection that the best compliment to the memory of a man who was himself
nothing if not uncompromising, and towards whom, whether alive or dead, I am
Page 14
not conscious of having entertained any ill-feeling, would be to print them
exactly as they stood, with the brief addition that I have not known a critic more
acute within his range, or more honest according to what he saw, than M.
Edmond Scherer. (March 20, 1889.)
exactly as they stood, with the brief addition that I have not known a critic more
acute within his range, or more honest according to what he saw, than M.
Edmond Scherer. (March 20, 1889.)
Page 15
CONTENTS.
PAGE
Preface v
BOOK I.
Mediaeval Literature.
Chap. I. The Origins 1
Relation of French to Latin. Influence of Latin Literature. Early
Monuments. Dialects and Provincial Literatures. Beginning of Literature
proper. Cantilenae. Trouvères and Jongleurs.
II. Chansons de Gestes 10
Origin of Chansons de Gestes. Definition. Period of
Composition. Chanson de Roland. Amis et Amiles.
Other principal Chansons. Social and Literary Characteristics.
Authorship. Style and Language. Later History.
III. Provençal Literature 26
Langue d'Oc. Range and characteristics. Periods of
Provençal Literature. First Period. Second Period.
Forms of Troubadour Poetry. Third Period. Literary
Relation of Provençal and French. Defects of Provençal
Literature.
PAGE
Preface v
BOOK I.
Mediaeval Literature.
Chap. I. The Origins 1
Relation of French to Latin. Influence of Latin Literature. Early
Monuments. Dialects and Provincial Literatures. Beginning of Literature
proper. Cantilenae. Trouvères and Jongleurs.
II. Chansons de Gestes 10
Origin of Chansons de Gestes. Definition. Period of
Composition. Chanson de Roland. Amis et Amiles.
Other principal Chansons. Social and Literary Characteristics.
Authorship. Style and Language. Later History.
III. Provençal Literature 26
Langue d'Oc. Range and characteristics. Periods of
Provençal Literature. First Period. Second Period.
Forms of Troubadour Poetry. Third Period. Literary
Relation of Provençal and French. Defects of Provençal
Literature.
Page 16
IV. Romances of Arthur and of Antiquity 34
The Tale of Arthur. Its Origin. Order of French Arthurian
Cycle. Chrestien de Troyes. Spirit and Literary
value of Arthurian Romances. Romances of Antiquity.
Chanson d'Alixandre. Roman de Troie. Other Romances
on Classical subjects.
V. Fabliaux. The Roman du Renart 47
Foreign Elements in Early French Literature. The Esprit
Gaulois makes its appearance. Definition of Fabliaux.
Subjects and character of Fabliaux. Sources of Fabliaux.
The Roman du Renart. The Ancien Renart. Le Couronnement
Renart. Renart le Nouvel. Renart le Contrefait.
Fauvel.
VI. Early Lyrics 62
Early and Later Lyrics. Origins of Lyric. Romances
and Pastourelles. Thirteenth Century. Changes in Lyric.
Traces of Lyric in the Thirteenth Century. Quesnes de
Bethune. Thibaut de Champagne. Minor Singers. Adam
de la Halle. Rutebœuf. Lais. Marie de France.
VII. Serious and Allegorical Poetry 75
Verse Chronicles. Miscellaneous Satirical Verse. Didactic
verse. Philippe de Thaun. Moral and Theological verse.
Allegorical verse. The Roman de la Rose. Popularity
of the Roman de la Rose. Imitations.
The Tale of Arthur. Its Origin. Order of French Arthurian
Cycle. Chrestien de Troyes. Spirit and Literary
value of Arthurian Romances. Romances of Antiquity.
Chanson d'Alixandre. Roman de Troie. Other Romances
on Classical subjects.
V. Fabliaux. The Roman du Renart 47
Foreign Elements in Early French Literature. The Esprit
Gaulois makes its appearance. Definition of Fabliaux.
Subjects and character of Fabliaux. Sources of Fabliaux.
The Roman du Renart. The Ancien Renart. Le Couronnement
Renart. Renart le Nouvel. Renart le Contrefait.
Fauvel.
VI. Early Lyrics 62
Early and Later Lyrics. Origins of Lyric. Romances
and Pastourelles. Thirteenth Century. Changes in Lyric.
Traces of Lyric in the Thirteenth Century. Quesnes de
Bethune. Thibaut de Champagne. Minor Singers. Adam
de la Halle. Rutebœuf. Lais. Marie de France.
VII. Serious and Allegorical Poetry 75
Verse Chronicles. Miscellaneous Satirical Verse. Didactic
verse. Philippe de Thaun. Moral and Theological verse.
Allegorical verse. The Roman de la Rose. Popularity
of the Roman de la Rose. Imitations.
Page 17
VIII. Romans D'Aventures 91
Distinguishing features of Romans d'Aventures. Looser
application of the term. Classes of Romans d'Aventures.
Adenès le Roi. Raoul de Houdenc. Chief Romans
d'Aventures. General Character. Last Chansons. Baudouin
de Sebourc.
IX. Later Songs and Poems 100
The Artificial Forms of Northern France. General Character.
Varieties. Jehannot de Lescurel. Guillaume de
Machault. Eustache Deschamps. Froissart. Christine
de Pisan. Alain Chartier.
X. The Drama 110
Origins of the Drama. Earliest Vernacular Dramatic
Forms. Mysteries and Miracles. Miracles de la Vierge.
Heterogeneous Character of Mysteries. Argument of a
Miracle Play. Profane Drama. Adam de la Halle.
Monologues. Farces. Moralities. Soties. Profane
Mysteries. Societies of Actors.
XI. Prose Chronicles 127
Beginning of Prose Chronicles. Grandes Chroniques de
France. Villehardouin. Minor Chroniclers between Villehardouin
and Joinville. Joinville. Froissart. Fifteenth-Century
Chroniclers.
XII. Miscellaneous Prose 140
Distinguishing features of Romans d'Aventures. Looser
application of the term. Classes of Romans d'Aventures.
Adenès le Roi. Raoul de Houdenc. Chief Romans
d'Aventures. General Character. Last Chansons. Baudouin
de Sebourc.
IX. Later Songs and Poems 100
The Artificial Forms of Northern France. General Character.
Varieties. Jehannot de Lescurel. Guillaume de
Machault. Eustache Deschamps. Froissart. Christine
de Pisan. Alain Chartier.
X. The Drama 110
Origins of the Drama. Earliest Vernacular Dramatic
Forms. Mysteries and Miracles. Miracles de la Vierge.
Heterogeneous Character of Mysteries. Argument of a
Miracle Play. Profane Drama. Adam de la Halle.
Monologues. Farces. Moralities. Soties. Profane
Mysteries. Societies of Actors.
XI. Prose Chronicles 127
Beginning of Prose Chronicles. Grandes Chroniques de
France. Villehardouin. Minor Chroniclers between Villehardouin
and Joinville. Joinville. Froissart. Fifteenth-Century
Chroniclers.
XII. Miscellaneous Prose 140
Page 18
General use of Prose. Prose Sermons. St. Bernard.
Maurice de Sully. Later Preachers. Gerson. Moral and
Devotional Treatises. Translators. Political and Polemical
Works. Codes and Legal Treatises. Miscellanies
and Didactic Works. Fiction. Antoine de la Salle.
Interchapter I. Summary of Mediaeval Literature 151
BOOK II.
The Renaissance.
Chap. I. Villon, Comines, and the later Fifteenth Century 155
The Middle Ages and the Renaissance. Characteristics
of Fifteenth-century Literature. Villon. Comines. Coquillart.
Baude. Martial d'Auvergne. The Rhétoriqueurs.
Chansons du xvème Siècle. Preachers.
II. Marot and his Contemporaries 168
Hybrid School of Poetry. Jean le Maire. Jehan du
Pontalais. Roger de Collérye. Minor Predecessors of Marot.
Clément Marot. The School of Marot. Mellin de Saint-Gelais.
Miscellaneous Verse. Anciennes Poésies Françaises.
III. Rabelais and his Followers 183
Fiction at the beginning of the Sixteenth Century. Rabelais.
Bonaventure des Périers. The Heptameron. Noel du
Fail. G. Bouchet. Cholières. Apologie pour Hérodote.
Maurice de Sully. Later Preachers. Gerson. Moral and
Devotional Treatises. Translators. Political and Polemical
Works. Codes and Legal Treatises. Miscellanies
and Didactic Works. Fiction. Antoine de la Salle.
Interchapter I. Summary of Mediaeval Literature 151
BOOK II.
The Renaissance.
Chap. I. Villon, Comines, and the later Fifteenth Century 155
The Middle Ages and the Renaissance. Characteristics
of Fifteenth-century Literature. Villon. Comines. Coquillart.
Baude. Martial d'Auvergne. The Rhétoriqueurs.
Chansons du xvème Siècle. Preachers.
II. Marot and his Contemporaries 168
Hybrid School of Poetry. Jean le Maire. Jehan du
Pontalais. Roger de Collérye. Minor Predecessors of Marot.
Clément Marot. The School of Marot. Mellin de Saint-Gelais.
Miscellaneous Verse. Anciennes Poésies Françaises.
III. Rabelais and his Followers 183
Fiction at the beginning of the Sixteenth Century. Rabelais.
Bonaventure des Périers. The Heptameron. Noel du
Fail. G. Bouchet. Cholières. Apologie pour Hérodote.
Page 19
Moyen de Parvenir.
IV. The Pléiade 196
Character and Effects of the Pléiade Movement. Ronsard.
The Défense et Illustration de la Langue Française. Du
Bellay. Belleau. Baïf. Daurat, Jodelle, Pontus de
Tyard. Magny. Tahureau. Minor Ronsardists. Du
Bartas. D'Aubigné. Desportes. Bertaut.
V. The Theatre from Gringore to Garnier 216
Gringore. The last Age of the Mediaeval Theatre. Beginnings
of the Classical Drama. Jodelle. Minor Pléiade
Dramatists. Garnier. Defects of the Pléiade Tragedy.
Pléiade Comedy. Larivey.
VI. Calvin and Amyot 228
Prose Writers of the Renaissance. Calvin. Minor Reformers
and Controversialists. Preachers of the League.
Amyot. Minor Translators. Dolet. Fauchet. Pasquier.
Henri Estienne. Herberay. Palissy. Paré. Olivier de Serres.
VII. Montaigne and Brantôme 241
Disenchantment of the late Renaissance. Montaigne.
Charron. Du Vair. Bodin and other Political Writers.
Brantôme. Montluc. La Noue. Agrippa d'Aubigné.
Marguerite de Valois. Vieilleville. Palma-Cayet. Pierre
de l'Estoile. D'Ossat. Sully. Jeannin. Minor Memoir-writers.
General Historians.
IV. The Pléiade 196
Character and Effects of the Pléiade Movement. Ronsard.
The Défense et Illustration de la Langue Française. Du
Bellay. Belleau. Baïf. Daurat, Jodelle, Pontus de
Tyard. Magny. Tahureau. Minor Ronsardists. Du
Bartas. D'Aubigné. Desportes. Bertaut.
V. The Theatre from Gringore to Garnier 216
Gringore. The last Age of the Mediaeval Theatre. Beginnings
of the Classical Drama. Jodelle. Minor Pléiade
Dramatists. Garnier. Defects of the Pléiade Tragedy.
Pléiade Comedy. Larivey.
VI. Calvin and Amyot 228
Prose Writers of the Renaissance. Calvin. Minor Reformers
and Controversialists. Preachers of the League.
Amyot. Minor Translators. Dolet. Fauchet. Pasquier.
Henri Estienne. Herberay. Palissy. Paré. Olivier de Serres.
VII. Montaigne and Brantôme 241
Disenchantment of the late Renaissance. Montaigne.
Charron. Du Vair. Bodin and other Political Writers.
Brantôme. Montluc. La Noue. Agrippa d'Aubigné.
Marguerite de Valois. Vieilleville. Palma-Cayet. Pierre
de l'Estoile. D'Ossat. Sully. Jeannin. Minor Memoir-writers.
General Historians.
Page 20
VIII. The Satyre Ménippée. Regnier 259
Satyre Ménippée. Regnier.
Interchapter II. Summary of Renaissance Literature 270
BOOK III.
The Seventeenth Century.
Chap. I. Poets 274
Malherbe. The School of Malherbe. Vers de Société.
Voiture. Epic School. Chapelain. Bacchanalian School.
Saint Amant. La Fontaine. Boileau. Minor Poets of the
Seventeenth Century.
II. Dramatists 290
Montchrestien. Hardy. Minor predecessors of Corneille.
Rotrou. Corneille. Racine. Minor Tragedians. Development
of Comedy. Molière. Contemporaries of
Molière. The School of Molière. Regnard. Characteristics
of Molièresque Comedy.
III. Novelists 319
D'Urfé. The Heroic Romances. Scarron. Cyrano de
Bergerac. Furetière. Madame de la Fayette. Fairy
Tales. Perrault.
Satyre Ménippée. Regnier.
Interchapter II. Summary of Renaissance Literature 270
BOOK III.
The Seventeenth Century.
Chap. I. Poets 274
Malherbe. The School of Malherbe. Vers de Société.
Voiture. Epic School. Chapelain. Bacchanalian School.
Saint Amant. La Fontaine. Boileau. Minor Poets of the
Seventeenth Century.
II. Dramatists 290
Montchrestien. Hardy. Minor predecessors of Corneille.
Rotrou. Corneille. Racine. Minor Tragedians. Development
of Comedy. Molière. Contemporaries of
Molière. The School of Molière. Regnard. Characteristics
of Molièresque Comedy.
III. Novelists 319
D'Urfé. The Heroic Romances. Scarron. Cyrano de
Bergerac. Furetière. Madame de la Fayette. Fairy
Tales. Perrault.
Page 21
IV. Historians, Memoir-writers, Letter-writers 332
General Historians. Mézeray. Historical Essayists.
St. Réal. Memoir-writers. Rohan. Bassompierre.
Madame de Motteville. Cardinal de Retz. Mademoiselle.
La Rochefoucauld. Saint Simon. Madame de Sévigné.
Tallemant des Réaux. Historical Antiquaries. Du Cange.
V. Essayists, Minor Moralists, Critics 354
Balzac. Pascal. La Rochefoucauld. La Bruyère.
VI. Philosophers 368
Descartes. Port Royal. Bayle. Malebranche.
VII. Theologians and Preachers 379
St. François de Sales. Bossuet. Fénelon. Massillon.
Bourdaloue. Minor Preachers.
Interchapter III. Summary of Seventeenth-century Literature 391
BOOK IV.
The Eighteenth Century.
Chap. I. Poets 395
Literary Degeneracy of the Eighteenth Century, especially
General Historians. Mézeray. Historical Essayists.
St. Réal. Memoir-writers. Rohan. Bassompierre.
Madame de Motteville. Cardinal de Retz. Mademoiselle.
La Rochefoucauld. Saint Simon. Madame de Sévigné.
Tallemant des Réaux. Historical Antiquaries. Du Cange.
V. Essayists, Minor Moralists, Critics 354
Balzac. Pascal. La Rochefoucauld. La Bruyère.
VI. Philosophers 368
Descartes. Port Royal. Bayle. Malebranche.
VII. Theologians and Preachers 379
St. François de Sales. Bossuet. Fénelon. Massillon.
Bourdaloue. Minor Preachers.
Interchapter III. Summary of Seventeenth-century Literature 391
BOOK IV.
The Eighteenth Century.
Chap. I. Poets 395
Literary Degeneracy of the Eighteenth Century, especially
Page 22
manifest in Poetry. J. B. Rousseau. Voltaire. Descriptive
Poets. Delille. Lebrun. Parny. Chénier. Minor
Poets. Light Verse. Piron. Désaugiers.
Chap. II. Dramatists 406
Divisions of Drama. La Motte. Crébillon the Elder.
Voltaire and his followers. Lesage. Comédie Larmoyante.
La Chaussée. Diderot. Marivaux. Beaumarchais. Characteristics
of Eighteenth-century Drama.
III. Novelists 416
Lesage. Marivaux. Prévost. Voltaire. Diderot. Rousseau.
Crébillon the Younger. Bernardin de St. Pierre. Restif
de la Bretonne. Chateaubriand. Madame de Staël.
Xavier de Maistre. Benjamin Constant.
IV. Historians, Memoir-writers, Letter-writers 436
Characteristics and Divisions of Eighteenth-century History.
Rollin. Dubos. Boulainvilliers. Voltaire. Mably.
Rulhière. Memoirs. Mme. de Staal-Delaunay. Duclos.
Bésenval. Madame d'Epinay. Minor Memoirs. Memoirs
of the Revolutionary Period. Abundance of Letter-writers.
Mademoiselle Aïssé. Madame du Deffand. Mademoiselle
de Lespinasse. Voltaire. Diderot. Galiani.
V. Essayists, Minor Moralists, Critics 452
Occasional Writing in the Eighteenth-century. Periodicals.
Fontenelle. La Motte. Vauvenargues. D'Aguesseau.
Duclos. Marmontel. La Harpe. Thomas. Orthodox
Poets. Delille. Lebrun. Parny. Chénier. Minor
Poets. Light Verse. Piron. Désaugiers.
Chap. II. Dramatists 406
Divisions of Drama. La Motte. Crébillon the Elder.
Voltaire and his followers. Lesage. Comédie Larmoyante.
La Chaussée. Diderot. Marivaux. Beaumarchais. Characteristics
of Eighteenth-century Drama.
III. Novelists 416
Lesage. Marivaux. Prévost. Voltaire. Diderot. Rousseau.
Crébillon the Younger. Bernardin de St. Pierre. Restif
de la Bretonne. Chateaubriand. Madame de Staël.
Xavier de Maistre. Benjamin Constant.
IV. Historians, Memoir-writers, Letter-writers 436
Characteristics and Divisions of Eighteenth-century History.
Rollin. Dubos. Boulainvilliers. Voltaire. Mably.
Rulhière. Memoirs. Mme. de Staal-Delaunay. Duclos.
Bésenval. Madame d'Epinay. Minor Memoirs. Memoirs
of the Revolutionary Period. Abundance of Letter-writers.
Mademoiselle Aïssé. Madame du Deffand. Mademoiselle
de Lespinasse. Voltaire. Diderot. Galiani.
V. Essayists, Minor Moralists, Critics 452
Occasional Writing in the Eighteenth-century. Periodicals.
Fontenelle. La Motte. Vauvenargues. D'Aguesseau.
Duclos. Marmontel. La Harpe. Thomas. Orthodox
Page 23
Apologists. Fréron. Philosophe Criticism. D'Alembert.
Diderot. Les Feuilles de Grimm. Diderot's Salons. His
General Criticism. Newspapers of the Revolution. The
Influence of Journalism. Chamfort. Rivarol. Joubert.
Courier. Sénancour.
VI. Philosophers 473
The philosophe movement. Montesquieu. Lettres Persanes.
Grandeur et Décadence des Romains. Esprit des
Lois. Voltaire. The Encyclopædia. Diderot. D'Alembert.
Rousseau. Political Economists. Vauban, Quesnay,
etc. Turgot. Condorcet. Volney. La Mettrie. Helvétius.
Système de la Nature. Condillac. Joseph de
Maistre. Bonald.
VII. Scientific Writers 499
Buffon. Lesser Scientific Writers. Voyages and Travels.
Linguistic and Literary Study.
Interchapter IV. Summary of Eighteenth-century Literature 504
BOOK V.
The Nineteenth Century 510
The Romantic Movement. Writers of the later Transition.
Béranger. Lamartine. Lamennais. Victor Cousin. Beyle.
Nodier. Delavigne. Soumet. The Romantic Propaganda
in Periodicals. Victor Hugo. Sainte-Beuve. His Method.
Dangers of the Method. Dumas the Elder. Honoré de
Balzac. George Sand. Mérimée. Théophile Gautier.
Diderot. Les Feuilles de Grimm. Diderot's Salons. His
General Criticism. Newspapers of the Revolution. The
Influence of Journalism. Chamfort. Rivarol. Joubert.
Courier. Sénancour.
VI. Philosophers 473
The philosophe movement. Montesquieu. Lettres Persanes.
Grandeur et Décadence des Romains. Esprit des
Lois. Voltaire. The Encyclopædia. Diderot. D'Alembert.
Rousseau. Political Economists. Vauban, Quesnay,
etc. Turgot. Condorcet. Volney. La Mettrie. Helvétius.
Système de la Nature. Condillac. Joseph de
Maistre. Bonald.
VII. Scientific Writers 499
Buffon. Lesser Scientific Writers. Voyages and Travels.
Linguistic and Literary Study.
Interchapter IV. Summary of Eighteenth-century Literature 504
BOOK V.
The Nineteenth Century 510
The Romantic Movement. Writers of the later Transition.
Béranger. Lamartine. Lamennais. Victor Cousin. Beyle.
Nodier. Delavigne. Soumet. The Romantic Propaganda
in Periodicals. Victor Hugo. Sainte-Beuve. His Method.
Dangers of the Method. Dumas the Elder. Honoré de
Balzac. George Sand. Mérimée. Théophile Gautier.
Page 24
Alfred de Musset. Influence of the Romantic Leaders.
Minor Poets of 1830. Alfred de Vigny. Auguste Barbier.
Gérard de Nerval. Curiosités Romantiques. Pétrus Borel.
Louis Bertrand. Second Group of Romantic Poets.
Théodore de Banville. Leconte de Lisle. Charles Baudelaire.
Minor Poets of the Second Romantic Group.
Dupont. The Parnasse. Minor and later Dramatists.
Scribe. Ponsard. Emile Augier. Eugène Labiche. Dumas
the Younger. Victorien Sardou. Classes of Nineteenth-century
Fiction. Minor and later Novelists. Jules Janin.
Charles de Bernard. Jules Sandeau. Octave Feuillet.
Murger. Edmond About. Feydeau. Gustave Droz.
Flaubert. The Naturalists. Emile Zola. Journalists
and Critics. Paul de St. Victor. Hippolyte Taine.
Academic Critics. Linguistic and Literary Study of
French. Philosophical Writers. Comte. Theological
Writers. Montalembert. Ozanam. Lacordaire. Ernest
Renan. Historians. Thierry. Thiers. Guizot. Mignet.
Michelet. Quinet. Tocqueville. Minor Historians.
Conclusion 579
Index 591
Minor Poets of 1830. Alfred de Vigny. Auguste Barbier.
Gérard de Nerval. Curiosités Romantiques. Pétrus Borel.
Louis Bertrand. Second Group of Romantic Poets.
Théodore de Banville. Leconte de Lisle. Charles Baudelaire.
Minor Poets of the Second Romantic Group.
Dupont. The Parnasse. Minor and later Dramatists.
Scribe. Ponsard. Emile Augier. Eugène Labiche. Dumas
the Younger. Victorien Sardou. Classes of Nineteenth-century
Fiction. Minor and later Novelists. Jules Janin.
Charles de Bernard. Jules Sandeau. Octave Feuillet.
Murger. Edmond About. Feydeau. Gustave Droz.
Flaubert. The Naturalists. Emile Zola. Journalists
and Critics. Paul de St. Victor. Hippolyte Taine.
Academic Critics. Linguistic and Literary Study of
French. Philosophical Writers. Comte. Theological
Writers. Montalembert. Ozanam. Lacordaire. Ernest
Renan. Historians. Thierry. Thiers. Guizot. Mignet.
Michelet. Quinet. Tocqueville. Minor Historians.
Conclusion 579
Index 591
Page 25
BOOK I.
MEDIAEVAL LITERATURE.
MEDIAEVAL LITERATURE.
Page 26
CHAPTER I.
THE ORIGINS.
Of all European literatures the French is, by general
consent, that which possesses the most uniformly fertile, Relation of French
to Latin.
brilliant, and unbroken history. In actual age it may
possibly yield to others, but the connection between the language of the
oldest and the language of the newest French literature is far closer than in
these other cases, and the fecundity of mediaeval writers in France far
exceeds that of their rivals elsewhere. For something like three centuries
England, Germany, Italy, and more doubtfully and to a smaller extent,
Spain, were content for the most part to borrow the matter and the manner
of their literary work from France. This brilliant literature was however
long before it assumed a regularly organized form, and in order that it might
do so a previous literature and a previous language had to be dissolved and
precipitated anew. With a few exceptions, to be presently noticed, French
literature is not to be found till after the year 1000, that is to say until a
greater lapse of time had passed since Caesar's campaigns than has passed
from the later date to the present day. Taking the earliest of all monuments,
the Strasburg Oaths, as starting-point, we may say that French language and
French literature were nine hundred years in process of formation. The
result was a remarkable one in linguistic history. French is unquestionably a
daughter of Latin, yet it is not such a daughter as Italian or Spanish. A
knowledge of the older language would enable a reader who knew no other
to spell out, more or less painfully, the meaning of most pages of the two
Peninsular languages; it would hardly enable him to do more than guess at
the meaning of a page of French. The long process of gestation transformed
the appearance of the new tongue completely, though its grammatical forms
and the bulk of its vocabulary are beyond all question Latin. The history of
this process belongs to the head of language, not of literature, and must be
sought elsewhere. It is sufficient to say that the first mention of a lingua
romana rustica is found in the seventh century, while allusions in Latin
documents show us its gradual use in pulpit and market-place, and even as a
THE ORIGINS.
Of all European literatures the French is, by general
consent, that which possesses the most uniformly fertile, Relation of French
to Latin.
brilliant, and unbroken history. In actual age it may
possibly yield to others, but the connection between the language of the
oldest and the language of the newest French literature is far closer than in
these other cases, and the fecundity of mediaeval writers in France far
exceeds that of their rivals elsewhere. For something like three centuries
England, Germany, Italy, and more doubtfully and to a smaller extent,
Spain, were content for the most part to borrow the matter and the manner
of their literary work from France. This brilliant literature was however
long before it assumed a regularly organized form, and in order that it might
do so a previous literature and a previous language had to be dissolved and
precipitated anew. With a few exceptions, to be presently noticed, French
literature is not to be found till after the year 1000, that is to say until a
greater lapse of time had passed since Caesar's campaigns than has passed
from the later date to the present day. Taking the earliest of all monuments,
the Strasburg Oaths, as starting-point, we may say that French language and
French literature were nine hundred years in process of formation. The
result was a remarkable one in linguistic history. French is unquestionably a
daughter of Latin, yet it is not such a daughter as Italian or Spanish. A
knowledge of the older language would enable a reader who knew no other
to spell out, more or less painfully, the meaning of most pages of the two
Peninsular languages; it would hardly enable him to do more than guess at
the meaning of a page of French. The long process of gestation transformed
the appearance of the new tongue completely, though its grammatical forms
and the bulk of its vocabulary are beyond all question Latin. The history of
this process belongs to the head of language, not of literature, and must be
sought elsewhere. It is sufficient to say that the first mention of a lingua
romana rustica is found in the seventh century, while allusions in Latin
documents show us its gradual use in pulpit and market-place, and even as a
Page 27
vehicle for the rude songs of the minstrel, long before any trace of written
French can be found.
Meanwhile, however, Latin was doing more than merely
furnishing the materials of the new language. The Influence of Latin
literary faculty of the Gauls was early noticed, and Literature.
before their subjection had long been completed they were adepts at using
the language of the conquerors. It does not fall within our plan to notice in
detail the Latin literature of Gaul and early France, but the later varieties of
that literature deserve some little attention, because of the influence which
they undoubtedly exercised on the literary forms of the new language. In
early French there is little trace of the influence of the Latin forms which
we call classical. It was the forms of the language which has been said to
have 'dived under ground with Naevius and come up again with Prudentius'
that really influenced the youthful tongue. Ecclesiastical Latin, and
especially the wonderful melody of the early Latin hymn-writers, had by far
the greatest effect upon it. Ingenious and not wholly groundless efforts have
been made to trace the principal forms of early French writing to the
services and service-books of the church, the chronicle to the sacred
histories, the lyric to the psalm and the hymn, the mystery to the elaborate
and dramatic ritual of the church. The Chanson de Geste, indeed, displays
in its matter and style many traces of Germanic origin, but the metre with
its regular iambic cadence and its rigid caesura testifies to Latin influence.
The service thus performed to the literature was not unlike the service
performed to the language. In the one case the scaffolding, or rather the
skeleton, was furnished in the shape of grammar; in the other a similar
skeleton, in the shape of prosody, was supplied. Important additions were
indeed made by the fresh elements introduced. Rhyme Latin had itself
acquired. But of the musical refrains which are among the most charming
features of early French lyric poetry we find no vestige in the older tongue.
The history of the French language, as far as concerns
literature, from the seventh to the eleventh century, can Early Monuments.
be rapidly given. The earliest mention of the Romance
tongue as distinguished from Latin and from German dialect refers to 659,
and occurs in the life of St. Mummolinus or Momolenus, bishop of Noyon,
who was chosen for that office because of his knowledge of the two
languages, Teutonic and Romanic[5]. We may therefore assume that
French can be found.
Meanwhile, however, Latin was doing more than merely
furnishing the materials of the new language. The Influence of Latin
literary faculty of the Gauls was early noticed, and Literature.
before their subjection had long been completed they were adepts at using
the language of the conquerors. It does not fall within our plan to notice in
detail the Latin literature of Gaul and early France, but the later varieties of
that literature deserve some little attention, because of the influence which
they undoubtedly exercised on the literary forms of the new language. In
early French there is little trace of the influence of the Latin forms which
we call classical. It was the forms of the language which has been said to
have 'dived under ground with Naevius and come up again with Prudentius'
that really influenced the youthful tongue. Ecclesiastical Latin, and
especially the wonderful melody of the early Latin hymn-writers, had by far
the greatest effect upon it. Ingenious and not wholly groundless efforts have
been made to trace the principal forms of early French writing to the
services and service-books of the church, the chronicle to the sacred
histories, the lyric to the psalm and the hymn, the mystery to the elaborate
and dramatic ritual of the church. The Chanson de Geste, indeed, displays
in its matter and style many traces of Germanic origin, but the metre with
its regular iambic cadence and its rigid caesura testifies to Latin influence.
The service thus performed to the literature was not unlike the service
performed to the language. In the one case the scaffolding, or rather the
skeleton, was furnished in the shape of grammar; in the other a similar
skeleton, in the shape of prosody, was supplied. Important additions were
indeed made by the fresh elements introduced. Rhyme Latin had itself
acquired. But of the musical refrains which are among the most charming
features of early French lyric poetry we find no vestige in the older tongue.
The history of the French language, as far as concerns
literature, from the seventh to the eleventh century, can Early Monuments.
be rapidly given. The earliest mention of the Romance
tongue as distinguished from Latin and from German dialect refers to 659,
and occurs in the life of St. Mummolinus or Momolenus, bishop of Noyon,
who was chosen for that office because of his knowledge of the two
languages, Teutonic and Romanic[5]. We may therefore assume that
Page 28
Mummolinus preached in the lingua Romana. To the same century is
referred the song of St. Faron, bishop of Meaux[6], but this only exists in
Latin, and a Romance original is inferred rather than proved. In the eighth
century the Romance eloquence of St. Adalbert is commended[7], and to the
same period are referred the glossaries of Reichenau and Cassel, lists
containing in the first case Latin and Romance equivalents, in the second
Teutonic and Romance[8]. By the beginning of the ninth century it was
compulsory for bishops to preach in Romance, and to translate such Latin
homilies as they read[9]; and to this same era has been referred a
fragmentary commentary on the Book of Jonah[10], included in the latest
collection of 'Monuments[11].' In 842 we have the Strasburg Oaths,
celebrated alike in French history and French literature. The text of the MS.
of Nithard which contains them is of the tenth century.
We now come to documents less shapeless. The tenth century itself gives us
the song of St. Eulalie, a poem on the Passion, a life of St. Leger, and
perhaps a poem on Boethius. These four documents are of the highest
interest. Not merely has the language assumed a tolerably regular form, but
its great division into Langue d'Oc and Langue d'Oil is already made, and
grammar, prosody, and other necessities or ornaments of bookwriting, are
present. The following extracts will illustrate this part of French literature.
The Romance oaths and the 'St. Eulalie' are given in full, the 'Passion' and
the 'St. Leger' in extract; it will be observed that the interval between the
first and the others is of very considerable width. This interval probably
represents a century of active change, and of this unfortunately we have no
monuments to mark the progress accurately.
Les Serments de Strasbourg de 842.
Pro deo amur et pro christian poblo et nostro commun
salvament, d'ist di in avant, in quant deus savir et podir me
dunat, si salvarai eo cist meon fradre Karlo et in aiudha et in
cadhuna cosa, si cum on per dreit son fradra salvar dist, in o
quid il mi altresi fazet, et ab Ludher nul plaid nunqua prindrai,
qui meon vol cist meon fradre Karle in damno sit.
referred the song of St. Faron, bishop of Meaux[6], but this only exists in
Latin, and a Romance original is inferred rather than proved. In the eighth
century the Romance eloquence of St. Adalbert is commended[7], and to the
same period are referred the glossaries of Reichenau and Cassel, lists
containing in the first case Latin and Romance equivalents, in the second
Teutonic and Romance[8]. By the beginning of the ninth century it was
compulsory for bishops to preach in Romance, and to translate such Latin
homilies as they read[9]; and to this same era has been referred a
fragmentary commentary on the Book of Jonah[10], included in the latest
collection of 'Monuments[11].' In 842 we have the Strasburg Oaths,
celebrated alike in French history and French literature. The text of the MS.
of Nithard which contains them is of the tenth century.
We now come to documents less shapeless. The tenth century itself gives us
the song of St. Eulalie, a poem on the Passion, a life of St. Leger, and
perhaps a poem on Boethius. These four documents are of the highest
interest. Not merely has the language assumed a tolerably regular form, but
its great division into Langue d'Oc and Langue d'Oil is already made, and
grammar, prosody, and other necessities or ornaments of bookwriting, are
present. The following extracts will illustrate this part of French literature.
The Romance oaths and the 'St. Eulalie' are given in full, the 'Passion' and
the 'St. Leger' in extract; it will be observed that the interval between the
first and the others is of very considerable width. This interval probably
represents a century of active change, and of this unfortunately we have no
monuments to mark the progress accurately.
Les Serments de Strasbourg de 842.
Pro deo amur et pro christian poblo et nostro commun
salvament, d'ist di in avant, in quant deus savir et podir me
dunat, si salvarai eo cist meon fradre Karlo et in aiudha et in
cadhuna cosa, si cum on per dreit son fradra salvar dist, in o
quid il mi altresi fazet, et ab Ludher nul plaid nunqua prindrai,
qui meon vol cist meon fradre Karle in damno sit.
Page 29
Si Lodhuvigs sagrament, quæ son fradre Karlo jurat, conservat,
et Karlus meos sendra de sua part nun los tanit, si io returnar
nun l'int pois, ne io ne nëuls, cui eo returnar int pois, in nulla
aiudha contra Lodhuwig nun li iv er.
Cantilène de Sainte Eulalie.
Buona pulcella fut Eulalia,
bel auret corps, bellezour anima.
Voldrent la veintre li deo inimi,
voldrent la faire dïaule servir.
Elle non eskoltet les mals conselliers,
qu'elle deo raneiet, chi maent sus en ciel,
Ne por or ned argent ne paramenz,
por manatce regiel ne preiement.
Nïule cose non la pouret omque pleier,
la polle sempre non amast lo deo menestier.
E poro fut presentede Maximiien,
chi rex eret a cels dis sovre pagiens
El li enortet, dont lei nonque chielt.
qued elle fuiet lo nom christiien.
Ell' ent adunet lo suon element,
melz sostendreiet les empedementz,
Qu'elle perdesse sa virginitet:
poros furet morte a grand honestet.
Enz enl fou la getterent, com arde tost.
elle colpes non auret, poro nos coist.
A ezo nos voldret concreidre li rex pagiens;
ad une spede li roveret tolir lo chief.
La domnizelle celle kose non contredist,
volt lo seule lazsier, si ruovet Krist.
In figure de colomb volat a ciel.
tuit orem, que por nos deguet preier,
Qued auuisset de nos Christus mercit
post la mort et a lui nos laist venir
Par souue clementia.
et Karlus meos sendra de sua part nun los tanit, si io returnar
nun l'int pois, ne io ne nëuls, cui eo returnar int pois, in nulla
aiudha contra Lodhuwig nun li iv er.
Cantilène de Sainte Eulalie.
Buona pulcella fut Eulalia,
bel auret corps, bellezour anima.
Voldrent la veintre li deo inimi,
voldrent la faire dïaule servir.
Elle non eskoltet les mals conselliers,
qu'elle deo raneiet, chi maent sus en ciel,
Ne por or ned argent ne paramenz,
por manatce regiel ne preiement.
Nïule cose non la pouret omque pleier,
la polle sempre non amast lo deo menestier.
E poro fut presentede Maximiien,
chi rex eret a cels dis sovre pagiens
El li enortet, dont lei nonque chielt.
qued elle fuiet lo nom christiien.
Ell' ent adunet lo suon element,
melz sostendreiet les empedementz,
Qu'elle perdesse sa virginitet:
poros furet morte a grand honestet.
Enz enl fou la getterent, com arde tost.
elle colpes non auret, poro nos coist.
A ezo nos voldret concreidre li rex pagiens;
ad une spede li roveret tolir lo chief.
La domnizelle celle kose non contredist,
volt lo seule lazsier, si ruovet Krist.
In figure de colomb volat a ciel.
tuit orem, que por nos deguet preier,
Qued auuisset de nos Christus mercit
post la mort et a lui nos laist venir
Par souue clementia.
Page 30
La Passion Du Christ.
Christus Jhesus den s'en leved,
Gehsesmani vil' es n'anez.
toz sos fidels seder rovet,
avan orar sols en anet.
Grant fu li dois, fort marrimenz.
si condormirent tuit adés.
Jhesus cum veg los esveled,
trestoz orar ben los manded.
E dunc orar cum el anned,
si fort sudor dunques suded,
que cum lo sangs a terra curren
de sa sudor las sanctas gutas.
Als sos fidels cum repadred,
tam benlement los conforted
li fel Judas ja s'aproismed
ab gran cumpannie dels judeus.
Jhesus cum vidra los judeus,
zo lor demandet que querént.
il li respondent tuit adun
'Jhesum querem Nazarenum.'
'Eu soi aquel,' zo dis Jhesus.
tuit li felun cadegren jos.
terce ves lor o demanded,
a totas treis chedent envers.
Vie de Saint Léger.
Domine deu devemps lauder
et a sus sancz honor porter;
in su' amor cantomps dels sanz
quæ por lui augrent granz aanz;
et or es temps et si est biens
quæ nos cantumps de sant Lethgier.
Primos didrai vos dels honors
quie il auuret ab duos seniors;
Christus Jhesus den s'en leved,
Gehsesmani vil' es n'anez.
toz sos fidels seder rovet,
avan orar sols en anet.
Grant fu li dois, fort marrimenz.
si condormirent tuit adés.
Jhesus cum veg los esveled,
trestoz orar ben los manded.
E dunc orar cum el anned,
si fort sudor dunques suded,
que cum lo sangs a terra curren
de sa sudor las sanctas gutas.
Als sos fidels cum repadred,
tam benlement los conforted
li fel Judas ja s'aproismed
ab gran cumpannie dels judeus.
Jhesus cum vidra los judeus,
zo lor demandet que querént.
il li respondent tuit adun
'Jhesum querem Nazarenum.'
'Eu soi aquel,' zo dis Jhesus.
tuit li felun cadegren jos.
terce ves lor o demanded,
a totas treis chedent envers.
Vie de Saint Léger.
Domine deu devemps lauder
et a sus sancz honor porter;
in su' amor cantomps dels sanz
quæ por lui augrent granz aanz;
et or es temps et si est biens
quæ nos cantumps de sant Lethgier.
Primos didrai vos dels honors
quie il auuret ab duos seniors;
Page 31
apres ditrai vos dels aanz
que li suos corps susting si granz,
et Evvruïns, cil deumentiz,
qui lui a grand torment occist.
Quant infans fud, donc a ciels temps
al rei lo duistrent soi parent,
qui donc regnevet a ciel di:
cio fud Lothiers fils Baldequi.
il le amat; deu lo covit;
rovat que litteras apresist.
Considering the great extent and the political divisions Dialects and
of the country called France, it is not surprising that the Provincial
language which was so slowly formed should have Literatures.
shown considerable dialectic variations. The characteristics of these
dialects, Norman, Picard, Walloon, Champenois, Angevin, and so forth,
have been much debated by philologists. But it so happens that the different
provinces displayed in point of literature considerable idiosyncrasy, which
it is scarcely possible to dispute. Hardly a district of France but contributed
something special to her wide and varied literature. The South, though its
direct influence was not great, undoubtedly set the example of attention to
lyrical form and cadence. Britanny contributed the wonderfully suggestive
Arthurian legends, and the peculiar music and style of the lai. The border
districts of Flanders seem to deserve the credit of originating the great
beast-epic of Reynard the Fox; Picardy, Eastern Normandy, and the Isle of
France were peculiarly rich in the fabliau; Champagne was the special
home of the lighter lyric poetry, while almost all northern France had a
share in the Chansons de Gestes, many districts, such as Lorraine and the
Cambrésis, having a special geste of their own.
It is however with the eleventh century that the history
of French literature properly so called begins. We have Beginning of
Literature proper.
indeed few Romance manuscripts so early as this, the
date of most of them not being earlier than the twelfth. But by the eleventh
century not merely were laws written in French (charters and other formal
documents were somewhat later), not merely were sermons constantly
composed and preached in that tongue, but also works of definite literature
were produced in it. The Chanson de Roland is our only instance of its epic
que li suos corps susting si granz,
et Evvruïns, cil deumentiz,
qui lui a grand torment occist.
Quant infans fud, donc a ciels temps
al rei lo duistrent soi parent,
qui donc regnevet a ciel di:
cio fud Lothiers fils Baldequi.
il le amat; deu lo covit;
rovat que litteras apresist.
Considering the great extent and the political divisions Dialects and
of the country called France, it is not surprising that the Provincial
language which was so slowly formed should have Literatures.
shown considerable dialectic variations. The characteristics of these
dialects, Norman, Picard, Walloon, Champenois, Angevin, and so forth,
have been much debated by philologists. But it so happens that the different
provinces displayed in point of literature considerable idiosyncrasy, which
it is scarcely possible to dispute. Hardly a district of France but contributed
something special to her wide and varied literature. The South, though its
direct influence was not great, undoubtedly set the example of attention to
lyrical form and cadence. Britanny contributed the wonderfully suggestive
Arthurian legends, and the peculiar music and style of the lai. The border
districts of Flanders seem to deserve the credit of originating the great
beast-epic of Reynard the Fox; Picardy, Eastern Normandy, and the Isle of
France were peculiarly rich in the fabliau; Champagne was the special
home of the lighter lyric poetry, while almost all northern France had a
share in the Chansons de Gestes, many districts, such as Lorraine and the
Cambrésis, having a special geste of their own.
It is however with the eleventh century that the history
of French literature properly so called begins. We have Beginning of
Literature proper.
indeed few Romance manuscripts so early as this, the
date of most of them not being earlier than the twelfth. But by the eleventh
century not merely were laws written in French (charters and other formal
documents were somewhat later), not merely were sermons constantly
composed and preached in that tongue, but also works of definite literature
were produced in it. The Chanson de Roland is our only instance of its epic
Page 32
literature, but is not likely to have stood alone: the mystery of The Ten
Virgins, a medley of French and Latin, has been (but perhaps falsely)
ascribed to the same date; and lyric poetry, even putting aside the obscure
and doubtful Cantilènes, was certainly indulged in to a considerable extent.
From this date it is therefore possible to abandon generalities, and taking
the successive forms and developments of literature, to deal with them in
detail.
Before however we attempt a systematic account of French literature as it
has been actually handed down to us, it is necessary to deal very briefly
with two questions, one of which concerns the antecedence of possible
ballad literature to the existing Chansons de Gestes, the other the machinery
of diffusion to which this and all the early historical developments of the
written French language owed much.
It has been held by many scholars, whose opinions
deserve respect, that an extensive literature of Cantilenae.
Cantilenae[12], or short historical ballads, preceded the
lengthy epics which we now possess, and was to a certain extent worked up
in these compositions. It is hardly necessary to say that this depends in part
upon a much larger question—the question, namely, of the general origins
of epic poetry. There are indeed certain references[13] to these Cantilenae
upon which the theories alluded to have been built. But the Cantilenae
themselves have, as one of the best of French literary historians, the late M.
Paulin Paris, remarks of another debated product, the Provençal epic, only
one defect, 'le défaut d'être perdu,' and investigation on the subject is
therefore more curious than profitable. No remnant of them survives save
the already-mentioned Latin prose canticle of St. Faron, in which vestiges
of a French and versified original are thought to be visible, and the ballad of
Saucourt, a rough song in a Teutonic dialect[14]. In default of direct
evidence an argument has been sought to be founded on the constant
transitions, repetitions, and other peculiarities of the Chansons, some of
which (and especially Roland, the most famous of all) present traces of
repeated handlings of the same subject, such as might be expected in work
which was merely that of a diaskeuast[15] of existing lays.
It is however probable that the explanation of this phenomenon need not be
sought further than in the circumstances of the composition and publication
Virgins, a medley of French and Latin, has been (but perhaps falsely)
ascribed to the same date; and lyric poetry, even putting aside the obscure
and doubtful Cantilènes, was certainly indulged in to a considerable extent.
From this date it is therefore possible to abandon generalities, and taking
the successive forms and developments of literature, to deal with them in
detail.
Before however we attempt a systematic account of French literature as it
has been actually handed down to us, it is necessary to deal very briefly
with two questions, one of which concerns the antecedence of possible
ballad literature to the existing Chansons de Gestes, the other the machinery
of diffusion to which this and all the early historical developments of the
written French language owed much.
It has been held by many scholars, whose opinions
deserve respect, that an extensive literature of Cantilenae.
Cantilenae[12], or short historical ballads, preceded the
lengthy epics which we now possess, and was to a certain extent worked up
in these compositions. It is hardly necessary to say that this depends in part
upon a much larger question—the question, namely, of the general origins
of epic poetry. There are indeed certain references[13] to these Cantilenae
upon which the theories alluded to have been built. But the Cantilenae
themselves have, as one of the best of French literary historians, the late M.
Paulin Paris, remarks of another debated product, the Provençal epic, only
one defect, 'le défaut d'être perdu,' and investigation on the subject is
therefore more curious than profitable. No remnant of them survives save
the already-mentioned Latin prose canticle of St. Faron, in which vestiges
of a French and versified original are thought to be visible, and the ballad of
Saucourt, a rough song in a Teutonic dialect[14]. In default of direct
evidence an argument has been sought to be founded on the constant
transitions, repetitions, and other peculiarities of the Chansons, some of
which (and especially Roland, the most famous of all) present traces of
repeated handlings of the same subject, such as might be expected in work
which was merely that of a diaskeuast[15] of existing lays.
It is however probable that the explanation of this phenomenon need not be
sought further than in the circumstances of the composition and publication
Page 33
of these poems, circumstances which also had a very
considerable influence on the whole course and Trouvères and
Jongleurs.
character of early French literature. We know nothing of
the rise or origin of the two classes of Trouveurs and Jongleurs. The former
(which it is needless to say is the same word as Troubadour, and Trobador,
and Trovatore) is the term for the composing class, the latter for the
performing one. But the separation was not sharp or absolute, and there are
abundant instances of Trouvères[16] who performed their own works, and of
Jongleurs who aspired to the glories if not of original authorship, at any rate
of alteration and revision of the legends they sang or recited. The natural
consequence of this irregular form of publication was a good deal of
repetition in the works published. Different versions of the legends easily
enough got mixed together by the copyist, who it must be remembered was
frequently a mere mechanical reproducer, and neither Trouvère nor
Jongleur; nor should it be forgotten that, so long as recitation was general,
repetitions of this kind were almost inevitable as a rest to the reciter's
memory, and were scarcely likely to attract unfavourable remark or
criticism from the audience. We may therefore conclude, without entering
further into the details of a debate unsuitable to the plan of this history, that,
while but scanty evidence has been shown of the existence previous to the
Chansons de Gestes of a ballad literature identical in subject with those
compositions, at the same time the existence of such a literature is neither
impossible nor improbable. It is otherwise with the hypothesis of the
existence of prose chronicles, from which the early epics (and Roland in
particular) are also held to have derived their origin. But this subject will be
better handled when we come to treat of the beginnings of French prose.
For the present it is sufficient to say that, with the exception of the scattered
fragments already commented upon, there is no department of French
literature before the eleventh century and the Chansons de Gestes, which
possesses historical existence proved by actual monuments, and thus
demands or deserves treatment here.
FOOTNOTES:
[5] 'Fama bonorum operum, quia praevalebat non tantum in Teutonica sed in
Romana lingua, Lotharii regis ad aures usque perveniente,' says his life. The
chronicler Sigebert confirms the statement that he was made bishop 'quod
considerable influence on the whole course and Trouvères and
Jongleurs.
character of early French literature. We know nothing of
the rise or origin of the two classes of Trouveurs and Jongleurs. The former
(which it is needless to say is the same word as Troubadour, and Trobador,
and Trovatore) is the term for the composing class, the latter for the
performing one. But the separation was not sharp or absolute, and there are
abundant instances of Trouvères[16] who performed their own works, and of
Jongleurs who aspired to the glories if not of original authorship, at any rate
of alteration and revision of the legends they sang or recited. The natural
consequence of this irregular form of publication was a good deal of
repetition in the works published. Different versions of the legends easily
enough got mixed together by the copyist, who it must be remembered was
frequently a mere mechanical reproducer, and neither Trouvère nor
Jongleur; nor should it be forgotten that, so long as recitation was general,
repetitions of this kind were almost inevitable as a rest to the reciter's
memory, and were scarcely likely to attract unfavourable remark or
criticism from the audience. We may therefore conclude, without entering
further into the details of a debate unsuitable to the plan of this history, that,
while but scanty evidence has been shown of the existence previous to the
Chansons de Gestes of a ballad literature identical in subject with those
compositions, at the same time the existence of such a literature is neither
impossible nor improbable. It is otherwise with the hypothesis of the
existence of prose chronicles, from which the early epics (and Roland in
particular) are also held to have derived their origin. But this subject will be
better handled when we come to treat of the beginnings of French prose.
For the present it is sufficient to say that, with the exception of the scattered
fragments already commented upon, there is no department of French
literature before the eleventh century and the Chansons de Gestes, which
possesses historical existence proved by actual monuments, and thus
demands or deserves treatment here.
FOOTNOTES:
[5] 'Fama bonorum operum, quia praevalebat non tantum in Teutonica sed in
Romana lingua, Lotharii regis ad aures usque perveniente,' says his life. The
chronicler Sigebert confirms the statement that he was made bishop 'quod
Page 34
Romanam non minus quam Teutonicam calleret linguam.' Lingua Latina and
Lingua Romana are from this time distinguished.
[6] The Latin form of the song is given by Helgaire, Bishop of Meaux, who
wrote a life of St. Faron, his predecessor, towards the end of the ninth century.
Helgaire uses the words 'juxta rusticitatem,' 'carmen rusticum;' and Lingua
Rustica is usually if not universally synonymous with Lingua Romana.
[7] 'Si vulgari id est romana lingua loqueretur omnium aliarum putares inscium.'
[8] The Reichenau Glossary is at Carlsruhe. It was published in 1863 by
Holtzmann. The Cassel Glossary, which came from Fulda, was published in the
last century (1729).
[9] Ordered by the Councils of Tours, Rheims, and Arles (813-851).
[10] In the Library at Valenciennes.
[11] Les plus anciens Monuments de la Langue Française. Paris, 1875.
[12] The subject of the Cantilenae is discussed at great length by M. Léon
Gautier, Les Epopées Françaises, Ed. 2, vol. i. caps. 8-13. Paris, 1878.
[13] These, which are for the most part very vague and not very early, will be
found fully quoted and discussed in Gautier, l. c.
[14] Published by Hoffmann von Fallersleben (1837).
[15] This word (= arranger or putter-in-order) is familiar in Homeric discussion,
and therefore seems appropriate. M. Gaston Paris speaks with apparent
confidence of the pre-existing chants, and, in matter of authority, no one speaks
with more than he: but it can hardly be said that there is proof of the fact.
[16] The older and in this case more usual form.
Lingua Romana are from this time distinguished.
[6] The Latin form of the song is given by Helgaire, Bishop of Meaux, who
wrote a life of St. Faron, his predecessor, towards the end of the ninth century.
Helgaire uses the words 'juxta rusticitatem,' 'carmen rusticum;' and Lingua
Rustica is usually if not universally synonymous with Lingua Romana.
[7] 'Si vulgari id est romana lingua loqueretur omnium aliarum putares inscium.'
[8] The Reichenau Glossary is at Carlsruhe. It was published in 1863 by
Holtzmann. The Cassel Glossary, which came from Fulda, was published in the
last century (1729).
[9] Ordered by the Councils of Tours, Rheims, and Arles (813-851).
[10] In the Library at Valenciennes.
[11] Les plus anciens Monuments de la Langue Française. Paris, 1875.
[12] The subject of the Cantilenae is discussed at great length by M. Léon
Gautier, Les Epopées Françaises, Ed. 2, vol. i. caps. 8-13. Paris, 1878.
[13] These, which are for the most part very vague and not very early, will be
found fully quoted and discussed in Gautier, l. c.
[14] Published by Hoffmann von Fallersleben (1837).
[15] This word (= arranger or putter-in-order) is familiar in Homeric discussion,
and therefore seems appropriate. M. Gaston Paris speaks with apparent
confidence of the pre-existing chants, and, in matter of authority, no one speaks
with more than he: but it can hardly be said that there is proof of the fact.
[16] The older and in this case more usual form.
Page 35
CHAPTER II.
THE CHANSONS DE GESTES.
The earliest form which finished literature took in France was that of epic
or narrative poetry. Towards the middle of the eleventh century certainly,
and probably some half-century earlier, poems of regular construction and
considerable length began to be written. These are the Chansons de Gestes,
so called from their dealing with the Gestes[17], or heroic families of
legendary or historical France. It is remarkable that this class of
composition, notwithstanding its age, its merits, and the abundant examples
of it which have been preserved, was one of the latest to receive recognition
in modern times. The matter of many of the Chansons, under their later
form of verse or prose romances of chivalry, was indeed more or less
known in the eighteenth century. But an appreciation of their real age,
value, and interest has been the reward of the literary investigations of our
own time. It was not till 1837 that the oldest and the most remarkable of
them was first edited from the manuscript found in the Bodleian Library[18].
Since that time investigation has been constant and fruitful, and there are
now more than one hundred of these interesting poems known.
The origin and sources of the Chansons de Gestes have
been made a matter of much controversy. We have Origin of Chansons
de Gestes.
already seen how, from the testimony of historians and
the existence of a few fragments, it appears that rude lays or ballads in the
different vernacular tongues of the country were composed and sung if not
written down at very early dates. According to one theory, we are to look
for the origin of the long and regular epics of the eleventh and subsequent
centuries in these rude compositions, first produced independently, then
strung together, and lastly subjected to some process of editing and union. It
has been sought to find proof of this in the frequent repetitions which take
place in the Chansons, and which sometimes amount to the telling of the
same incident over and over again in slightly varying words. Others have
seen in this peculiarity only a result of improvisation in the first place, and
THE CHANSONS DE GESTES.
The earliest form which finished literature took in France was that of epic
or narrative poetry. Towards the middle of the eleventh century certainly,
and probably some half-century earlier, poems of regular construction and
considerable length began to be written. These are the Chansons de Gestes,
so called from their dealing with the Gestes[17], or heroic families of
legendary or historical France. It is remarkable that this class of
composition, notwithstanding its age, its merits, and the abundant examples
of it which have been preserved, was one of the latest to receive recognition
in modern times. The matter of many of the Chansons, under their later
form of verse or prose romances of chivalry, was indeed more or less
known in the eighteenth century. But an appreciation of their real age,
value, and interest has been the reward of the literary investigations of our
own time. It was not till 1837 that the oldest and the most remarkable of
them was first edited from the manuscript found in the Bodleian Library[18].
Since that time investigation has been constant and fruitful, and there are
now more than one hundred of these interesting poems known.
The origin and sources of the Chansons de Gestes have
been made a matter of much controversy. We have Origin of Chansons
de Gestes.
already seen how, from the testimony of historians and
the existence of a few fragments, it appears that rude lays or ballads in the
different vernacular tongues of the country were composed and sung if not
written down at very early dates. According to one theory, we are to look
for the origin of the long and regular epics of the eleventh and subsequent
centuries in these rude compositions, first produced independently, then
strung together, and lastly subjected to some process of editing and union. It
has been sought to find proof of this in the frequent repetitions which take
place in the Chansons, and which sometimes amount to the telling of the
same incident over and over again in slightly varying words. Others have
seen in this peculiarity only a result of improvisation in the first place, and
Page 36
unskilful or at least uncritical copying in the second. This, however, is a
question rather interesting than important. What is certain is that no literary
source of the Chansons is now actually in existence, and that we have no
authentic information as to any such originals. At a certain period—
approximately given above—the fashion of narrative poems on the great
scale seems to have arisen in France. It spread rapidly, and was eagerly
copied by other nations.
The definition of a Chanson de Geste is as follows. It is
a narrative poem, dealing with a subject connected with Definition.
French history, written in verses of ten or twelve
syllables, which verses are arranged in stanzas of arbitrary length, each
stanza possessing a distinguishing assonance or rhyme in the last syllable of
each line. The assonance, which is characteristic of the earlier Chansons, is
an imperfect rhyme, in which identity of vowel sound is all that is
necessary. Thus traitor, felon, compaingnons, manons, noz, the first, fourth,
and fifth of which have no character of rhyme whatever in modern poetry,
are sufficient terminations for an assonanced poem, because the last vowel
sound, o, is identical. There is moreover in this versification a regular
caesura, sometimes after the fourth, sometimes after the sixth syllable; and
in a few of the older examples the stanzas, or as they are sometimes called
laisses, terminate in a shorter line than usual, which is not assonanced. This
metrical system, it will be observed, is of a fairly elaborate character, a
character which has been used as an argument by those who insist on the
existence of a body of ballad literature anterior to the Chansons. We shall
see in the following chapters how this double definition of a Chanson de
Geste, by matter and by form, serves to exclude from the title other
important and interesting classes of compositions slightly later in date.
The period of composition of these poems extended,
speaking roughly, over three centuries. In the eleventh Period of
they began, but the beginnings are represented only by Composition.
Roland, the Voyage de Charlemagne, and perhaps Le Roi Louis. Most and
nearly all the best date from the twelfth. The thirteenth century also
produces them in great numbers, but by this time a sensible change has
come over their manner, and after the beginning of the fourteenth only a
few pieces deserving the title are written. They then undergo transformation
rather than neglect, and we shall meet them at a later period in other forms.
question rather interesting than important. What is certain is that no literary
source of the Chansons is now actually in existence, and that we have no
authentic information as to any such originals. At a certain period—
approximately given above—the fashion of narrative poems on the great
scale seems to have arisen in France. It spread rapidly, and was eagerly
copied by other nations.
The definition of a Chanson de Geste is as follows. It is
a narrative poem, dealing with a subject connected with Definition.
French history, written in verses of ten or twelve
syllables, which verses are arranged in stanzas of arbitrary length, each
stanza possessing a distinguishing assonance or rhyme in the last syllable of
each line. The assonance, which is characteristic of the earlier Chansons, is
an imperfect rhyme, in which identity of vowel sound is all that is
necessary. Thus traitor, felon, compaingnons, manons, noz, the first, fourth,
and fifth of which have no character of rhyme whatever in modern poetry,
are sufficient terminations for an assonanced poem, because the last vowel
sound, o, is identical. There is moreover in this versification a regular
caesura, sometimes after the fourth, sometimes after the sixth syllable; and
in a few of the older examples the stanzas, or as they are sometimes called
laisses, terminate in a shorter line than usual, which is not assonanced. This
metrical system, it will be observed, is of a fairly elaborate character, a
character which has been used as an argument by those who insist on the
existence of a body of ballad literature anterior to the Chansons. We shall
see in the following chapters how this double definition of a Chanson de
Geste, by matter and by form, serves to exclude from the title other
important and interesting classes of compositions slightly later in date.
The period of composition of these poems extended,
speaking roughly, over three centuries. In the eleventh Period of
they began, but the beginnings are represented only by Composition.
Roland, the Voyage de Charlemagne, and perhaps Le Roi Louis. Most and
nearly all the best date from the twelfth. The thirteenth century also
produces them in great numbers, but by this time a sensible change has
come over their manner, and after the beginning of the fourteenth only a
few pieces deserving the title are written. They then undergo transformation
rather than neglect, and we shall meet them at a later period in other forms.
Page 37
Before dealing with other general characteristics of the early epics of
France it will be well to give some notion of them by actual selection and
narrative. For this purpose we shall take two Chansons typical of two out of
the three stages through which they passed. Roland will serve as a sample
of the earliest, Amis et Amiles of the second. Of the third, as less
characteristic in itself and less marked by uniform features, it will be
sufficient to give some account when we come to the compositions which
chiefly influenced it, namely the romances of Arthur and of antiquity.
The Chanson de Roland, the most ancient and
characteristic of these poems, though extremely popular Chanson de Roland.
in the middle ages[19], passed with them into obscurity.
The earliest allusion to the Oxford MS., which alone represents its earliest
form, was made by Tyrwhitt a century ago. Conybeare forty years later
dealt with it in the Gentleman's Magazine of 1817, and by degrees the
reviving interest of France in her older literature attracted French scholars
to this most important monument of the oldest French. It was first published
as a whole by M. F. Michel in 1837, and since that time it has been the
subject of a very great amount of study. Its length is 4001 decasyllabic
lines, and it concludes with an obscure assertion of authorship, publication
or transcription by a certain Turoldus[20]. The date of the Oxford MS. is
probably the middle of the twelfth century, but its text is attributed by the
best authorities to the end of the eleventh. There are other MSS., but they
are all either mutilated or of much later date. The argument of the poem is
as follows:—
Charlemagne has warred seven years in Spain, but king Marsile of
Saragossa still resists the Christian conqueror. Unable however to meet
Charlemagne in the field, he sends an embassy with presents and a feigned
submission, requesting that prince to return to France, whither he will
follow him and do homage. Roland opposes the reception of these offers,
Ganelon speaks in their favour, and so does Duke Naimes. Then the
question is who shall go to Saragossa to settle the terms. Roland offers to go
himself, but being rejected as too impetuous, suggests Ganelon—a
suggestion which bitterly annoys that knight and by irritating him against
Roland sows the seeds of his future treachery. Ganelon goes to Marsile, and
at first bears himself truthfully and gallantly. The heathen king however
undermines his faith, and a treacherous assault on the French rearguard
France it will be well to give some notion of them by actual selection and
narrative. For this purpose we shall take two Chansons typical of two out of
the three stages through which they passed. Roland will serve as a sample
of the earliest, Amis et Amiles of the second. Of the third, as less
characteristic in itself and less marked by uniform features, it will be
sufficient to give some account when we come to the compositions which
chiefly influenced it, namely the romances of Arthur and of antiquity.
The Chanson de Roland, the most ancient and
characteristic of these poems, though extremely popular Chanson de Roland.
in the middle ages[19], passed with them into obscurity.
The earliest allusion to the Oxford MS., which alone represents its earliest
form, was made by Tyrwhitt a century ago. Conybeare forty years later
dealt with it in the Gentleman's Magazine of 1817, and by degrees the
reviving interest of France in her older literature attracted French scholars
to this most important monument of the oldest French. It was first published
as a whole by M. F. Michel in 1837, and since that time it has been the
subject of a very great amount of study. Its length is 4001 decasyllabic
lines, and it concludes with an obscure assertion of authorship, publication
or transcription by a certain Turoldus[20]. The date of the Oxford MS. is
probably the middle of the twelfth century, but its text is attributed by the
best authorities to the end of the eleventh. There are other MSS., but they
are all either mutilated or of much later date. The argument of the poem is
as follows:—
Charlemagne has warred seven years in Spain, but king Marsile of
Saragossa still resists the Christian conqueror. Unable however to meet
Charlemagne in the field, he sends an embassy with presents and a feigned
submission, requesting that prince to return to France, whither he will
follow him and do homage. Roland opposes the reception of these offers,
Ganelon speaks in their favour, and so does Duke Naimes. Then the
question is who shall go to Saragossa to settle the terms. Roland offers to go
himself, but being rejected as too impetuous, suggests Ganelon—a
suggestion which bitterly annoys that knight and by irritating him against
Roland sows the seeds of his future treachery. Ganelon goes to Marsile, and
at first bears himself truthfully and gallantly. The heathen king however
undermines his faith, and a treacherous assault on the French rearguard
Page 38
when Charlemagne shall be too far off to succour it is resolved on and
planned. Then the traitor returns to Charles with hostages and mighty gifts.
The return to France begins; Roland is stationed to his great wrath in the
fatal place, the rest of the army marches through the Pyrenees, and
meanwhile Marsile gathers an enormous host to fall upon the isolated
rearguard. There is a long catalogue of the felon and miscreant knights and
princes that follow the Spanish king. The pagan host, travelling by cross
paths of the mountains, soon reaches and surrounds Roland and the peers.
Oliver entreats Roland to sound his horn that Charles may hear it and come
to the rescue, but the eager and inflexible hero refuses. Archbishop Turpin
blesses the doomed host, and bids them as the price of his absolution strike
hard. The battle begins and all its incidents are told. The French kill
thousands, but thousands more succeed. Peer after peer falls, and when at
last Roland blows the horn it is too late. Charlemagne hears it and turns
back in an agony of sorrow and haste. But long before he reaches
Roncevaux Roland has died last of his host, and alone, for all the Pagans
have fallen or fled before him.
The arrival of Charlemagne, his grief, and his vengeance on the Pagans,
should perhaps conclude the poem. There is however a sort of afterpiece, in
which the traitor Ganelon is tried, his fate being decided by a single combat
between his kinsman Pinabel and a champion named Thierry, and is
ruthlessly put to death with all his clansmen who have stood surety for him.
Episodes properly so called the poem has none, though the character of
Oliver is finely brought out as contrasted with Roland's somewhat
unreasoning valour, and there is one touching incident when the poet tells
how the Lady Aude, Oliver's sister and Roland's betrothed, falls dead
without a word when the king tells her of the fatal fight at Roncevaux. The
following passage will give an idea of the style of this famous poem. It may
be noticed that the curious refrain Aoi has puzzled all commentators, though
in calling it a refrain we have given the most probable explanation:—
Rollanz s'en turnet, par le camp vait tut suls
cercet les vals e si cercet les munz;
iloec truvat Ivorie et Ivun,
truvat Gerin, Gerer sun cumpaignun,
iloec truvat Engeler le Gascun
e si truvat Berenger e Orun,
planned. Then the traitor returns to Charles with hostages and mighty gifts.
The return to France begins; Roland is stationed to his great wrath in the
fatal place, the rest of the army marches through the Pyrenees, and
meanwhile Marsile gathers an enormous host to fall upon the isolated
rearguard. There is a long catalogue of the felon and miscreant knights and
princes that follow the Spanish king. The pagan host, travelling by cross
paths of the mountains, soon reaches and surrounds Roland and the peers.
Oliver entreats Roland to sound his horn that Charles may hear it and come
to the rescue, but the eager and inflexible hero refuses. Archbishop Turpin
blesses the doomed host, and bids them as the price of his absolution strike
hard. The battle begins and all its incidents are told. The French kill
thousands, but thousands more succeed. Peer after peer falls, and when at
last Roland blows the horn it is too late. Charlemagne hears it and turns
back in an agony of sorrow and haste. But long before he reaches
Roncevaux Roland has died last of his host, and alone, for all the Pagans
have fallen or fled before him.
The arrival of Charlemagne, his grief, and his vengeance on the Pagans,
should perhaps conclude the poem. There is however a sort of afterpiece, in
which the traitor Ganelon is tried, his fate being decided by a single combat
between his kinsman Pinabel and a champion named Thierry, and is
ruthlessly put to death with all his clansmen who have stood surety for him.
Episodes properly so called the poem has none, though the character of
Oliver is finely brought out as contrasted with Roland's somewhat
unreasoning valour, and there is one touching incident when the poet tells
how the Lady Aude, Oliver's sister and Roland's betrothed, falls dead
without a word when the king tells her of the fatal fight at Roncevaux. The
following passage will give an idea of the style of this famous poem. It may
be noticed that the curious refrain Aoi has puzzled all commentators, though
in calling it a refrain we have given the most probable explanation:—
Rollanz s'en turnet, par le camp vait tut suls
cercet les vals e si cercet les munz;
iloec truvat Ivorie et Ivun,
truvat Gerin, Gerer sun cumpaignun,
iloec truvat Engeler le Gascun
e si truvat Berenger e Orun,
Page 39
iloec truvat Anseïs e Sansun,
truvat Gérard le veill de Russillun:
par un e un les ad pris le barun,
al arcevesque en est venuz atut,
sis mist en reng dedevant ses genuilz.
li arcevesque ne poet muër n'en plurt;
lievet sa main, fait sa beneïçun;
aprés ad dit 'mare fustes, seignurs!
tutes voz anmes ait deus li glorïus!
en pareïs les mete en seintes flurs!
la meie mort me rent si anguissus,
ja ne verrai le riche emperëur.'
Rollanz s'en turnet, le camp vait recercer;
desoz un pin e folut e ramer
sun cumpaignun ad truved Oliver,
cuntre sun piz estreit l'ad enbracet.
si cum il poet al arcevesque en vent,
sur un escut l'ad as altres culchet;
e l'arcevesque l'ad asols e seignet.
idonc agreget le doel e la pitet.
ço dit Rollanz 'bels cumpainz Oliver,
vos fustes filz al bon cunte Reiner,
ki tint la marche de Genes desur mer;
pur hanste freindre e pur escuz pecier
e pur osberc e rompre e desmailler,
[pur orgoillos veintre e esmaier]
e pur prozdomes tenir e conseiller
e pur glutuns e veintre e esmaier
en nule terre n'ot meillor chevaler.'
Li quens Rollanz, quant il veit morz ses pers
e Oliver, qu'il tant poeit amer,
tendrur en out, cumencet a plurer,
en sun visage fut mult desculurez.
si grant doel out que mais ne pout ester,
voeillet o nun, a terre chet pasmet.
dist l'arcevesques 'tant mare fustes, ber.'
Li arcevesques quant vit pasmer Rollant,
truvat Gérard le veill de Russillun:
par un e un les ad pris le barun,
al arcevesque en est venuz atut,
sis mist en reng dedevant ses genuilz.
li arcevesque ne poet muër n'en plurt;
lievet sa main, fait sa beneïçun;
aprés ad dit 'mare fustes, seignurs!
tutes voz anmes ait deus li glorïus!
en pareïs les mete en seintes flurs!
la meie mort me rent si anguissus,
ja ne verrai le riche emperëur.'
Rollanz s'en turnet, le camp vait recercer;
desoz un pin e folut e ramer
sun cumpaignun ad truved Oliver,
cuntre sun piz estreit l'ad enbracet.
si cum il poet al arcevesque en vent,
sur un escut l'ad as altres culchet;
e l'arcevesque l'ad asols e seignet.
idonc agreget le doel e la pitet.
ço dit Rollanz 'bels cumpainz Oliver,
vos fustes filz al bon cunte Reiner,
ki tint la marche de Genes desur mer;
pur hanste freindre e pur escuz pecier
e pur osberc e rompre e desmailler,
[pur orgoillos veintre e esmaier]
e pur prozdomes tenir e conseiller
e pur glutuns e veintre e esmaier
en nule terre n'ot meillor chevaler.'
Li quens Rollanz, quant il veit morz ses pers
e Oliver, qu'il tant poeit amer,
tendrur en out, cumencet a plurer,
en sun visage fut mult desculurez.
si grant doel out que mais ne pout ester,
voeillet o nun, a terre chet pasmet.
dist l'arcevesques 'tant mare fustes, ber.'
Li arcevesques quant vit pasmer Rollant,
Page 40
dunc out tel doel, unkes mais n'out si grant;
tendit sa main, si ad pris l'olifan.
en Rencesvals ad une ewe curant;
aler i volt, si'n durrat a Rollant.
tant s'esforçat qu'il se mist en estant,
sun petit pas s'en turnet cancelant,
il est si fieble qu'il ne poet en avant,
nen ad vertut, trop ad perdut del sanc.
einz que om alast un sul arpent de camp,
fait li le coer, si est chaeit avant:
la sue mort li vait mult angoissant.
Li quenz Rollanz revient de pasmeisuns,
sur piez se drecet, mais il ad grant dulur;
guardet aval e si guardet amunt:
sur l'erbe verte, ultre ses cumpaignuns,
la veit gesir le nobilie barun,
ço est l'arcevesque que deus mist en sun num;
cleimet sa culpe, si reguardet amunt,
cuntre le ciel amsdous ses mains ad juinz,
si prïet deu que pareïs li duinst.
morz est Turpin le guerreier Charlun.
par granz batailles e par mult bels sermons
cuntre paiens fut tuz tens campïuns.
deus li otreit seinte beneïçun! Aoi.
Quant Rollanz vit l'arcevesque qu'est morz,
senz Oliver une mais n'out si grant dol,
e dist un mot que destrenche le cor:
'Carles de France chevalce cum il pot;
en Rencesvals damage i ad des noz;
li reis Marsilie ad sa gent perdut tot,
cuntre un des noz ad ben quarante morz.'
Li quenz Rollanz veit l'arcevesque a terre,
defors sun cors veit gesir la buëlle,
desuz le frunt li buillit la cervelle.
desur sun piz, entre les dous furcelles,
cruisiedes ad ses blanches mains, les belles.
forment le pleint a la lei de sa terre.
tendit sa main, si ad pris l'olifan.
en Rencesvals ad une ewe curant;
aler i volt, si'n durrat a Rollant.
tant s'esforçat qu'il se mist en estant,
sun petit pas s'en turnet cancelant,
il est si fieble qu'il ne poet en avant,
nen ad vertut, trop ad perdut del sanc.
einz que om alast un sul arpent de camp,
fait li le coer, si est chaeit avant:
la sue mort li vait mult angoissant.
Li quenz Rollanz revient de pasmeisuns,
sur piez se drecet, mais il ad grant dulur;
guardet aval e si guardet amunt:
sur l'erbe verte, ultre ses cumpaignuns,
la veit gesir le nobilie barun,
ço est l'arcevesque que deus mist en sun num;
cleimet sa culpe, si reguardet amunt,
cuntre le ciel amsdous ses mains ad juinz,
si prïet deu que pareïs li duinst.
morz est Turpin le guerreier Charlun.
par granz batailles e par mult bels sermons
cuntre paiens fut tuz tens campïuns.
deus li otreit seinte beneïçun! Aoi.
Quant Rollanz vit l'arcevesque qu'est morz,
senz Oliver une mais n'out si grant dol,
e dist un mot que destrenche le cor:
'Carles de France chevalce cum il pot;
en Rencesvals damage i ad des noz;
li reis Marsilie ad sa gent perdut tot,
cuntre un des noz ad ben quarante morz.'
Li quenz Rollanz veit l'arcevesque a terre,
defors sun cors veit gesir la buëlle,
desuz le frunt li buillit la cervelle.
desur sun piz, entre les dous furcelles,
cruisiedes ad ses blanches mains, les belles.
forment le pleint a la lei de sa terre.
Page 41
'e, gentilz hom, chevaler de bon aire,
hoi te cumant al glorïus celeste:
ja mais n'ert hume plus volenters le serve.
des les apostles ne fut honc tel prophete
pur lei tenir e pur humes atraire.
ja la vostre anme nen ait doel ne sufraite!
de pareïs li seit la porte uverte!'
As Roland is by far the most interesting of those Amis et Amiles.
Chansons which describe the wars with the Saracens, so
Amis et Amiles[21] may be taken as representing those where the interest is
mainly domestic. Amis et Amiles is the earliest vernacular form of a story
which attained extraordinary popularity in the middle ages, being found in
every language and in most literary forms, prose and verse, narrative and
dramatic. This popularity may partly be assigned to the religious and
marvellous elements which it contains, but is due also to the intrinsic merits
of the story. The Chanson contains 3500 lines, dates probably from the
twelfth century, and is written, like Roland, in decasyllabic verse, but,
unlike Roland, has a shorter line of six syllables and not assonanced at the
end of each stanza. Its story is as follows:—
Amis and Amiles were two noble knights, born and baptized on the same
day, who had the Pope for sponsor, and whose comradeship was specially
sanctioned by a divine message, and by the miraculous likeness which
existed between them. They were however brought up, the one in Berri, the
other in Auvergne, and did not meet till both had received knighthood. As
soon as they had joined company, they resolved to offer their services to
Charles, and did him great service against rebels. Here the action proper
begins. The friends arouse the jealousy of Hardré, a felon knight, of
Ganelon's lineage and likeness. Hardré engages Gombaud of Lorraine, an
enemy of the Emperor, to attack the two friends; but the treason does not
succeed, and the traitor, to escape unpleasant enquiries, recommends
Charles to bestow his own niece Lubias on Amiles. The latter declares that
Amis deserves her better, and to Amis she is married, bearing however no
good-will to Amiles for his resignation of her and for his firm hold on her
husband's affection. Meanwhile, the daughter of Charles, Bellicent,
conceives a violent passion for Amiles, and the traitor Hardré unfortunately
becomes aware of the matter. He at once accuses Amiles of treason, and the
hoi te cumant al glorïus celeste:
ja mais n'ert hume plus volenters le serve.
des les apostles ne fut honc tel prophete
pur lei tenir e pur humes atraire.
ja la vostre anme nen ait doel ne sufraite!
de pareïs li seit la porte uverte!'
As Roland is by far the most interesting of those Amis et Amiles.
Chansons which describe the wars with the Saracens, so
Amis et Amiles[21] may be taken as representing those where the interest is
mainly domestic. Amis et Amiles is the earliest vernacular form of a story
which attained extraordinary popularity in the middle ages, being found in
every language and in most literary forms, prose and verse, narrative and
dramatic. This popularity may partly be assigned to the religious and
marvellous elements which it contains, but is due also to the intrinsic merits
of the story. The Chanson contains 3500 lines, dates probably from the
twelfth century, and is written, like Roland, in decasyllabic verse, but,
unlike Roland, has a shorter line of six syllables and not assonanced at the
end of each stanza. Its story is as follows:—
Amis and Amiles were two noble knights, born and baptized on the same
day, who had the Pope for sponsor, and whose comradeship was specially
sanctioned by a divine message, and by the miraculous likeness which
existed between them. They were however brought up, the one in Berri, the
other in Auvergne, and did not meet till both had received knighthood. As
soon as they had joined company, they resolved to offer their services to
Charles, and did him great service against rebels. Here the action proper
begins. The friends arouse the jealousy of Hardré, a felon knight, of
Ganelon's lineage and likeness. Hardré engages Gombaud of Lorraine, an
enemy of the Emperor, to attack the two friends; but the treason does not
succeed, and the traitor, to escape unpleasant enquiries, recommends
Charles to bestow his own niece Lubias on Amiles. The latter declares that
Amis deserves her better, and to Amis she is married, bearing however no
good-will to Amiles for his resignation of her and for his firm hold on her
husband's affection. Meanwhile, the daughter of Charles, Bellicent,
conceives a violent passion for Amiles, and the traitor Hardré unfortunately
becomes aware of the matter. He at once accuses Amiles of treason, and the
Page 42
knight is too conscious of the dubiousness of his cause to be very willing to
accept the wager of battle. From this difficulty he is saved by Amis, who
comes to Paris from his distant seignory of Blaivies (Blaye), and fights the
battle in the name and armour of his friend, while the latter goes to Blaye
and plays the part of his preserver. Both ventures are made easier by the
extraordinary resemblance of the pair. Amis is successful; he slays Hardré,
and then has no little difficulty in saving himself from a forced marriage
with Bellicent. This embroglio is smoothed out, and Amiles and Bellicent
are happily united. The generous Amis however has not been able to avoid
forswearing himself while playing the part of Amiles; and this sin is
punished, according to a divine warning, by an attack of leprosy. His wife
Lubias seizes the opportunity, procures a separation from him, and almost
starves him, or would do so but for two faithful servants and his little son.
At last a means of cure is revealed to him. If Amiles and Bellicent will
allow their two sons to be slain the blood will recover Amis of his leprosy.
The stricken knight journeys painfully to his friend and tells him the hard
condition. Amiles does not hesitate, and the following passage tells his
deed:—
Li cuens Amiles un petit s'atarja,
vers les anfans pas por pas en ala,
dormans les treuve, moult par les resgarda,
s'espee lieve, ocirre les voldra;
mais de ferir un petit se tarja.
li ainznés freres de l'effroi s'esveilla
que li cuens mainne qui en la chambre entra,
l'anfes se torne, son pere ravisa,
s'espee voit, moult grant paor en a,
son pere apelle, si l'en arraisonna:
'biax sire peres, por deu qui tout forma,
que volez faire? nel me celez vos ja.
ainz mais nus peres tel chose ne pensa.'
'biaux sire fiuls, ocirre vos voil ja
et le tien frere qui delez toi esta;
car mes compains Amis qui moult m'ama,
dou sanc de vos li siens cors garistra,
que gietez est dou siecle.'
accept the wager of battle. From this difficulty he is saved by Amis, who
comes to Paris from his distant seignory of Blaivies (Blaye), and fights the
battle in the name and armour of his friend, while the latter goes to Blaye
and plays the part of his preserver. Both ventures are made easier by the
extraordinary resemblance of the pair. Amis is successful; he slays Hardré,
and then has no little difficulty in saving himself from a forced marriage
with Bellicent. This embroglio is smoothed out, and Amiles and Bellicent
are happily united. The generous Amis however has not been able to avoid
forswearing himself while playing the part of Amiles; and this sin is
punished, according to a divine warning, by an attack of leprosy. His wife
Lubias seizes the opportunity, procures a separation from him, and almost
starves him, or would do so but for two faithful servants and his little son.
At last a means of cure is revealed to him. If Amiles and Bellicent will
allow their two sons to be slain the blood will recover Amis of his leprosy.
The stricken knight journeys painfully to his friend and tells him the hard
condition. Amiles does not hesitate, and the following passage tells his
deed:—
Li cuens Amiles un petit s'atarja,
vers les anfans pas por pas en ala,
dormans les treuve, moult par les resgarda,
s'espee lieve, ocirre les voldra;
mais de ferir un petit se tarja.
li ainznés freres de l'effroi s'esveilla
que li cuens mainne qui en la chambre entra,
l'anfes se torne, son pere ravisa,
s'espee voit, moult grant paor en a,
son pere apelle, si l'en arraisonna:
'biax sire peres, por deu qui tout forma,
que volez faire? nel me celez vos ja.
ainz mais nus peres tel chose ne pensa.'
'biaux sire fiuls, ocirre vos voil ja
et le tien frere qui delez toi esta;
car mes compains Amis qui moult m'ama,
dou sanc de vos li siens cors garistra,
que gietez est dou siecle.'
Page 43
'Biax tres douz peres,' dist l'anfes erramment,
'quant vos compains avra garissement,
se de nos sans a sor soi lavement,
nos sommes vostre de vostre engenrement,
faire en poëz del tout a vo talent.
or nos copez les chiés isnellement;
car dex de glorie nos avra en present,
en paradis en irommes chantant
et proierommes Jhesu cui tout apent
que dou pechié vos face tensement,
vos et Ami, vostre compaingnon gent;
mais nostre mere, la bele Belissant,
nos saluëz por deu omnipotent.'
li cuens l'oït, moult grans pitiés l'en prent
que touz pasmez a la terre s'estent.
quant se redresce, si reprinst hardement.
or orroiz ja merveilles, bonne gent,
que tex n'oïstes en tout vostre vivant.
li cuens Amiles vint vers le lit esrant,
hauce l'espee, li fiuls le col estent.
or est merveilles se li cuers ne li ment.
la teste cope li peres son anfant,
le sanc reciut et cler bacin d'argent:
a poi ne chiet a terre.
No sooner has the blood touched Amis than he is cured, and the knights
solemnly visit the church where Bellicent and the people are assembled.
The story is told and the mother, in despair, rushes to the chamber where
her dead children are lying. But she finds them living and in full health, for
a miracle has been wrought to reward the faithfulness of the friends now
that suffering has purged them of their sin.
This story, touching in itself, is most touchingly told in the Chanson. No
poem of the kind is more vivid in description, or fuller of details of the
manners of the time, than Amis et Amiles. Bellicent and Lubias, the former
passionate and impulsive but loving and faithful, the latter treacherous,
revengeful, and cold-hearted, give perhaps the earliest finished portraits of
feminine character to be found in French literature. Amis and Amiles
'quant vos compains avra garissement,
se de nos sans a sor soi lavement,
nos sommes vostre de vostre engenrement,
faire en poëz del tout a vo talent.
or nos copez les chiés isnellement;
car dex de glorie nos avra en present,
en paradis en irommes chantant
et proierommes Jhesu cui tout apent
que dou pechié vos face tensement,
vos et Ami, vostre compaingnon gent;
mais nostre mere, la bele Belissant,
nos saluëz por deu omnipotent.'
li cuens l'oït, moult grans pitiés l'en prent
que touz pasmez a la terre s'estent.
quant se redresce, si reprinst hardement.
or orroiz ja merveilles, bonne gent,
que tex n'oïstes en tout vostre vivant.
li cuens Amiles vint vers le lit esrant,
hauce l'espee, li fiuls le col estent.
or est merveilles se li cuers ne li ment.
la teste cope li peres son anfant,
le sanc reciut et cler bacin d'argent:
a poi ne chiet a terre.
No sooner has the blood touched Amis than he is cured, and the knights
solemnly visit the church where Bellicent and the people are assembled.
The story is told and the mother, in despair, rushes to the chamber where
her dead children are lying. But she finds them living and in full health, for
a miracle has been wrought to reward the faithfulness of the friends now
that suffering has purged them of their sin.
This story, touching in itself, is most touchingly told in the Chanson. No
poem of the kind is more vivid in description, or fuller of details of the
manners of the time, than Amis et Amiles. Bellicent and Lubias, the former
passionate and impulsive but loving and faithful, the latter treacherous,
revengeful, and cold-hearted, give perhaps the earliest finished portraits of
feminine character to be found in French literature. Amis and Amiles
Page 44
themselves are presented to us under so many more aspects than Roland
and Oliver that they dwell better in the memory. The undercurrent of
savagery which distinguished mediæval times, and the rapid changes of
fortune which were possible therein, are also well brought out. Not even the
immolation of Ganelon's hostages is so striking as the calm ferocity with
which Charlemagne dooms his wife and son as well as his daughter to pay
with their lives the penalty of Bellicent's fault; while the sudden lapse of
Amis from his position of feudal lordship at Blaye to that of a miserable
outcast, smitten and marked out for public scorn and ill-treatment by the
visitation of God, is unusually dramatic. Amis et Amiles bears to Roland
something not at all unlike the relation of the Odyssey to the Iliad. Its
continuation, Jourdains de Blaivies, adds the element of foreign travel and
adventure; but that element is perhaps more characteristically represented,
and the representation has certainly been more generally popular, in Huon
de Bordeaux.
Of the remaining Chansons, the following are the most
remarkable. Aliscans (twelfth century) deals with the Other principal
Chansons.
contest between William of Orange, the great Christian
hero of the south of France, and the Saracens. This poem forms, according
to custom, the centre of a whole group of Chansons dealing with the earlier
and later adventures of the hero, his ancestors, and descendants. Such are Le
Couronnement Loys, La Prise d'Orange, Le Charroi de Nimes, Le Moniage
Guillaume. The series formed by these and others[22] is among the most
interesting of these groups. Le Chevalier au Cygne is a title applied directly
to a somewhat late version of an old folk-tale, and more generally to a
series of poems connected with the House of Bouillon and the Crusades.
The members of this bear the separate headings Antioche[23], Les Chétifs,
Les Enfances Godefroy, etc. Antioche, the first of these, which describes the
exploits of the Christian host, first in attacking and then in defending that
city, is one of the finest of the Chansons, and is probably in its original form
not much later than the events it describes, being written by an eye-witness.
The variety of its personages, the vivid picture of the alternations of
fortune, the vigour of the verse, are all remarkable. This group is terminated
by Baudouin de Sebourc[24], a very late but very important Chanson, which
falls in with the poetry of the fourteenth century, and the Bastart de
Bouillon[25]. La Chevalerie Ogier de Danemarche[26] is the oldest form in
and Oliver that they dwell better in the memory. The undercurrent of
savagery which distinguished mediæval times, and the rapid changes of
fortune which were possible therein, are also well brought out. Not even the
immolation of Ganelon's hostages is so striking as the calm ferocity with
which Charlemagne dooms his wife and son as well as his daughter to pay
with their lives the penalty of Bellicent's fault; while the sudden lapse of
Amis from his position of feudal lordship at Blaye to that of a miserable
outcast, smitten and marked out for public scorn and ill-treatment by the
visitation of God, is unusually dramatic. Amis et Amiles bears to Roland
something not at all unlike the relation of the Odyssey to the Iliad. Its
continuation, Jourdains de Blaivies, adds the element of foreign travel and
adventure; but that element is perhaps more characteristically represented,
and the representation has certainly been more generally popular, in Huon
de Bordeaux.
Of the remaining Chansons, the following are the most
remarkable. Aliscans (twelfth century) deals with the Other principal
Chansons.
contest between William of Orange, the great Christian
hero of the south of France, and the Saracens. This poem forms, according
to custom, the centre of a whole group of Chansons dealing with the earlier
and later adventures of the hero, his ancestors, and descendants. Such are Le
Couronnement Loys, La Prise d'Orange, Le Charroi de Nimes, Le Moniage
Guillaume. The series formed by these and others[22] is among the most
interesting of these groups. Le Chevalier au Cygne is a title applied directly
to a somewhat late version of an old folk-tale, and more generally to a
series of poems connected with the House of Bouillon and the Crusades.
The members of this bear the separate headings Antioche[23], Les Chétifs,
Les Enfances Godefroy, etc. Antioche, the first of these, which describes the
exploits of the Christian host, first in attacking and then in defending that
city, is one of the finest of the Chansons, and is probably in its original form
not much later than the events it describes, being written by an eye-witness.
The variety of its personages, the vivid picture of the alternations of
fortune, the vigour of the verse, are all remarkable. This group is terminated
by Baudouin de Sebourc[24], a very late but very important Chanson, which
falls in with the poetry of the fourteenth century, and the Bastart de
Bouillon[25]. La Chevalerie Ogier de Danemarche[26] is the oldest form in
Page 45
which the adventures of one of the most popular and romantic of
Charlemagne's heroes are related. Fierabras had also a very wide
popularity, and contains some of the liveliest pictures of manners to be
found in these poems, in its description of the rough horse-play of the
knights and the unfilial behaviour of the converted Saracen princess. This
poem is also of much interest philologically[27]. Garin le Loherain[28] is the
centre of a remarkable group dealing not directly with Charlemagne, but
with the provincial disputes and feuds of the nobility of Lorraine. Raoul de
Cambrai[29] is another of the Chansons which deal with 'minor houses,' as
they are called, in contradistinction to the main Carlovingian cycle. Gérard
de Roussillon[30] ranks as a poem with the best of all the Chansons. Hugues
Capet[31], though very late, is attractive by reason of the glimpses it gives
us of a new spirit supplanting that of chivalry proper. In it the heroic
distinctly gives place to the burlesque. Macaire[32], besides being written in
a singular dialect, in which French is mingled with Italian, supplies the
original of the well-known dog of Montargis. Huon de Bordeaux[33],
already mentioned, was not only more than usually popular at the time of its
appearance, but has supplied Shakespeare with some of the dramatis
personae of A Midsummer Night's Dream, and Wieland and Weber with the
plot of a well-known poem and opera. Jourdains de Blaivies, the sequel to
Amis et Amiles, contains, besides much other interesting matter, the incident
which forms the centre of the plot of Pericles. Les Quatre Fils Aymon or
Renaut de Montauban[34] is the foundation of one of the most popular
French chap-books. Les Saisnes[35] deals with Charlemagne's wars with
Witekind. Berte aus grans Piés[36] is a very graceful story of womanly
innocence. Doon de Mayence[37], though not early, includes a charming
love-episode. Gérard de Viane[38] contains the famous battle of Roland and
Oliver. The Voyage de Charlemagne à Constantinople[39] is semi-burlesque
in tone and one of the earliest in which that tone is perceptible.
In these numerous poems there is recognisable in the
first place a distinct family likeness which is common to Social and Literary
Characteristics.
the earliest and latest, and in the second, the natural
difference of manners which the lapse of three hundred years might be
expected to occasion. There is a sameness which almost amounts to
monotony in the plot of most Chansons de Gestes: the hero is almost always
Charlemagne's heroes are related. Fierabras had also a very wide
popularity, and contains some of the liveliest pictures of manners to be
found in these poems, in its description of the rough horse-play of the
knights and the unfilial behaviour of the converted Saracen princess. This
poem is also of much interest philologically[27]. Garin le Loherain[28] is the
centre of a remarkable group dealing not directly with Charlemagne, but
with the provincial disputes and feuds of the nobility of Lorraine. Raoul de
Cambrai[29] is another of the Chansons which deal with 'minor houses,' as
they are called, in contradistinction to the main Carlovingian cycle. Gérard
de Roussillon[30] ranks as a poem with the best of all the Chansons. Hugues
Capet[31], though very late, is attractive by reason of the glimpses it gives
us of a new spirit supplanting that of chivalry proper. In it the heroic
distinctly gives place to the burlesque. Macaire[32], besides being written in
a singular dialect, in which French is mingled with Italian, supplies the
original of the well-known dog of Montargis. Huon de Bordeaux[33],
already mentioned, was not only more than usually popular at the time of its
appearance, but has supplied Shakespeare with some of the dramatis
personae of A Midsummer Night's Dream, and Wieland and Weber with the
plot of a well-known poem and opera. Jourdains de Blaivies, the sequel to
Amis et Amiles, contains, besides much other interesting matter, the incident
which forms the centre of the plot of Pericles. Les Quatre Fils Aymon or
Renaut de Montauban[34] is the foundation of one of the most popular
French chap-books. Les Saisnes[35] deals with Charlemagne's wars with
Witekind. Berte aus grans Piés[36] is a very graceful story of womanly
innocence. Doon de Mayence[37], though not early, includes a charming
love-episode. Gérard de Viane[38] contains the famous battle of Roland and
Oliver. The Voyage de Charlemagne à Constantinople[39] is semi-burlesque
in tone and one of the earliest in which that tone is perceptible.
In these numerous poems there is recognisable in the
first place a distinct family likeness which is common to Social and Literary
Characteristics.
the earliest and latest, and in the second, the natural
difference of manners which the lapse of three hundred years might be
expected to occasion. There is a sameness which almost amounts to
monotony in the plot of most Chansons de Gestes: the hero is almost always
Page 46
either falsely accused of some crime, or else treacherously exposed to the
attacks of Saracens, or of his own countrymen. The agents of this treachery
are commonly of the blood of the arch-traitor Ganelon, and are almost
invariably discomfited by the good knight or his friends and avengers. The
part[40] which Charlemagne plays in these poems is not usually dignified:
he is represented as easily gulled, capricious, and almost ferocious in
temper, ungrateful, and ready to accept bribes and gifts. His good angel is
always Duke Naimes of Bavaria, the Nestor of the Carlovingian epic. In the
earliest Chansons the part played by women is not so conspicuous as in the
later, but in all except Roland it has considerable prominence. Sometimes
the heroine is the wife, daughter, or niece of Charlemagne, sometimes a
Saracen princess. But in either case she is apt to respond without much
delay to the hero's advances, which, indeed, she sometimes anticipates. The
conduct of knights to their ladies is also far from being what we now
consider chivalrous. Blows are very common, and seem to be taken by the
weaker sex as matters of course. The prevailing legal forms are simple and
rather sanguinary. The judgment of God, as shown by ordeal of battle,
settles all disputes; but battle is not permitted unless several nobles of
weight and substance come forward as sponsors for each champion; and
sponsors as well as principal risk their lives in case of the principal's defeat,
unless they can tempt the king's cupidity. These common features are
necessarily in the case of so large a number of poems mixed with much
individual difference, nor are the Chansons by any means monotonous
reading. Their versification is pleasing to the ear, and their language,
considering its age, is of surprising strength, expressiveness, and even
wealth. Though they lack the variety, the pathos, the romantic chivalry, and
the mystical attractions of the Arthurian romances, there is little doubt that
they paint, far more accurately than their successors, an actually existing
state of society, that which prevailed in the palmy time of the feudal system,
when war and religion were deemed the sole subjects worthy to occupy
seriously men of station and birth. In giving utterance to this warlike and
religious sentiment, few periods and classes of literature have been more
strikingly successful. Nowhere is the mere fury of battle better rendered
than in Roland and Fierabras. Nowhere is the valiant indignation of the
beaten warrior, and, at the same time, his humble submission to providence,
better given than in Aliscans. Nowhere do we find the mediæval spirit of
feudal enmity and private war more strikingly depicted than in the cycle of
attacks of Saracens, or of his own countrymen. The agents of this treachery
are commonly of the blood of the arch-traitor Ganelon, and are almost
invariably discomfited by the good knight or his friends and avengers. The
part[40] which Charlemagne plays in these poems is not usually dignified:
he is represented as easily gulled, capricious, and almost ferocious in
temper, ungrateful, and ready to accept bribes and gifts. His good angel is
always Duke Naimes of Bavaria, the Nestor of the Carlovingian epic. In the
earliest Chansons the part played by women is not so conspicuous as in the
later, but in all except Roland it has considerable prominence. Sometimes
the heroine is the wife, daughter, or niece of Charlemagne, sometimes a
Saracen princess. But in either case she is apt to respond without much
delay to the hero's advances, which, indeed, she sometimes anticipates. The
conduct of knights to their ladies is also far from being what we now
consider chivalrous. Blows are very common, and seem to be taken by the
weaker sex as matters of course. The prevailing legal forms are simple and
rather sanguinary. The judgment of God, as shown by ordeal of battle,
settles all disputes; but battle is not permitted unless several nobles of
weight and substance come forward as sponsors for each champion; and
sponsors as well as principal risk their lives in case of the principal's defeat,
unless they can tempt the king's cupidity. These common features are
necessarily in the case of so large a number of poems mixed with much
individual difference, nor are the Chansons by any means monotonous
reading. Their versification is pleasing to the ear, and their language,
considering its age, is of surprising strength, expressiveness, and even
wealth. Though they lack the variety, the pathos, the romantic chivalry, and
the mystical attractions of the Arthurian romances, there is little doubt that
they paint, far more accurately than their successors, an actually existing
state of society, that which prevailed in the palmy time of the feudal system,
when war and religion were deemed the sole subjects worthy to occupy
seriously men of station and birth. In giving utterance to this warlike and
religious sentiment, few periods and classes of literature have been more
strikingly successful. Nowhere is the mere fury of battle better rendered
than in Roland and Fierabras. Nowhere is the valiant indignation of the
beaten warrior, and, at the same time, his humble submission to providence,
better given than in Aliscans. Nowhere do we find the mediæval spirit of
feudal enmity and private war more strikingly depicted than in the cycle of
Page 47
the Lorrainers, and in Raoul de Cambrai. Nowhere is the devout sentiment
and belief of the same time more fully drawn than in Amis et Amiles.
The method of composition and publication of these
poems was peculiar. Ordinarily, though not always, they Authorship.
were composed by the Trouvère, and performed by the
Jongleur. Sometimes the Trouvère condescended to performance, and
sometimes the Jongleur aspired to composition, but not usually. The poet
was commonly a man of priestly or knightly rank, the performer (who
might be of either sex) was probably of no particular station. The Jongleur,
or Jongleresse, wandered from castle to castle, reciting the poems, and
interpolating in them recommendations of the quality of the wares, requests
to the audience to be silent, and often appeals to their generosity. Some of
the manuscripts which we now possess were originally used by Jongleurs,
and it was only in this way that the early Chanson de Geste was intended to
be read. The process of hawking about naturally interfered with the
preservation of the poems in their original purity, and even with the
preservation of the author's name. In very few cases[41] is the latter known
to us.
The question whether the Chansons de Gestes were originally written in
northern or southern French has often been hotly debated. The facts are
these. Only three Chansons exist in Provençal. Two of these[42] are admitted
translations or imitations of Northern originals. The third, Girartz de
Rossilho, is undoubtedly original, but is written in the northernmost dialect
of the Southern tongue. The inference appears to be clear that the Chanson
de Geste is properly a product of northern France. The opposite conclusion
necessitates the supposition that either in the Albigensian war, or by some
inexplicable concatenation of accidents, a body of original Provençal
Chansons has been totally destroyed, with all allusions to, and traditions of,
these poems. Such a hypothesis is evidently unreasonable, and would
probably never have been started had not some of the earliest students of
Old French been committed by local feeling to the championship of the
language of the Troubadours. On the other hand, almost all the dialects of
Northern French are represented, Norman and Picard being perhaps the
commonest[43].
and belief of the same time more fully drawn than in Amis et Amiles.
The method of composition and publication of these
poems was peculiar. Ordinarily, though not always, they Authorship.
were composed by the Trouvère, and performed by the
Jongleur. Sometimes the Trouvère condescended to performance, and
sometimes the Jongleur aspired to composition, but not usually. The poet
was commonly a man of priestly or knightly rank, the performer (who
might be of either sex) was probably of no particular station. The Jongleur,
or Jongleresse, wandered from castle to castle, reciting the poems, and
interpolating in them recommendations of the quality of the wares, requests
to the audience to be silent, and often appeals to their generosity. Some of
the manuscripts which we now possess were originally used by Jongleurs,
and it was only in this way that the early Chanson de Geste was intended to
be read. The process of hawking about naturally interfered with the
preservation of the poems in their original purity, and even with the
preservation of the author's name. In very few cases[41] is the latter known
to us.
The question whether the Chansons de Gestes were originally written in
northern or southern French has often been hotly debated. The facts are
these. Only three Chansons exist in Provençal. Two of these[42] are admitted
translations or imitations of Northern originals. The third, Girartz de
Rossilho, is undoubtedly original, but is written in the northernmost dialect
of the Southern tongue. The inference appears to be clear that the Chanson
de Geste is properly a product of northern France. The opposite conclusion
necessitates the supposition that either in the Albigensian war, or by some
inexplicable concatenation of accidents, a body of original Provençal
Chansons has been totally destroyed, with all allusions to, and traditions of,
these poems. Such a hypothesis is evidently unreasonable, and would
probably never have been started had not some of the earliest students of
Old French been committed by local feeling to the championship of the
language of the Troubadours. On the other hand, almost all the dialects of
Northern French are represented, Norman and Picard being perhaps the
commonest[43].
Page 48
The language of these poems, as the extracts given will
partly show, is neither poor in vocabulary, nor lacking in Style and
harmony of sound. It is indeed, more sonorous and Language.
stately than classical French language was from the seventeenth century to
the days of Victor Hugo, and abounds in picturesque terms which have
since dropped out of use. The massive castles of the baronage, with their
ranges of marble steps leading up to the hall, where feasting is held by day
and where the knights sleep at night, are often described. Dress is
mentioned with peculiar lavishness. Pelisses of ermine, ornaments of gold
and silver, silken underclothing, seem to give the poets special pleasure in
recording them. In no language are what have been called 'perpetual'
epithets more usual, though the abundance of the recurring phrases prevents
monotony. The 'clear countenances' of the ladies, the 'steely brands' of the
knights, their 'marble palaces,' the 'flowing beard' of Charlemagne, the
'guileful tongue' of the traitors, are constant features of the verbal
landscape. From so great a mass of poetry it would be vain in any space
here available to attempt to arrange specimen 'jewels five words long.' But
those who actually read the Chansons will be surprised at the abundance of
fresh striking and poetic phrase.
Before quitting the subject of the Chansons de Gestes, it
may be well to give briefly their subsequent literary Later History.
history. They were at first frequently re-edited, the
tendency always being to increase their length, so that in some cases the
latest versions extant run to thirty or forty thousand lines. As soon as this
limit was reached, they began to be turned into prose, the fourteenth and
fifteenth centuries being the special period of this change. The art of
printing came in time to assist the spread of these prose versions, and for
some centuries they were almost the only form in which the Chansons de
Gestes, under the general title of romances of chivalry, were known. The
verse originals remained for the most part in manuscript, but the prose
romances gained an enduring circulation among the peasantry in France.
From the seventeenth century their vogue was mainly restricted to this
class. But in the middle of the eighteenth the Comte de Tressan was induced
to attempt their revival for the Bibliothèque des Romans. His versions were
executed entirely in the spirit of the day, and did not render any of the
characteristic features of the old Epics. But they drew attention to them, and
partly show, is neither poor in vocabulary, nor lacking in Style and
harmony of sound. It is indeed, more sonorous and Language.
stately than classical French language was from the seventeenth century to
the days of Victor Hugo, and abounds in picturesque terms which have
since dropped out of use. The massive castles of the baronage, with their
ranges of marble steps leading up to the hall, where feasting is held by day
and where the knights sleep at night, are often described. Dress is
mentioned with peculiar lavishness. Pelisses of ermine, ornaments of gold
and silver, silken underclothing, seem to give the poets special pleasure in
recording them. In no language are what have been called 'perpetual'
epithets more usual, though the abundance of the recurring phrases prevents
monotony. The 'clear countenances' of the ladies, the 'steely brands' of the
knights, their 'marble palaces,' the 'flowing beard' of Charlemagne, the
'guileful tongue' of the traitors, are constant features of the verbal
landscape. From so great a mass of poetry it would be vain in any space
here available to attempt to arrange specimen 'jewels five words long.' But
those who actually read the Chansons will be surprised at the abundance of
fresh striking and poetic phrase.
Before quitting the subject of the Chansons de Gestes, it
may be well to give briefly their subsequent literary Later History.
history. They were at first frequently re-edited, the
tendency always being to increase their length, so that in some cases the
latest versions extant run to thirty or forty thousand lines. As soon as this
limit was reached, they began to be turned into prose, the fourteenth and
fifteenth centuries being the special period of this change. The art of
printing came in time to assist the spread of these prose versions, and for
some centuries they were almost the only form in which the Chansons de
Gestes, under the general title of romances of chivalry, were known. The
verse originals remained for the most part in manuscript, but the prose
romances gained an enduring circulation among the peasantry in France.
From the seventeenth century their vogue was mainly restricted to this
class. But in the middle of the eighteenth the Comte de Tressan was induced
to attempt their revival for the Bibliothèque des Romans. His versions were
executed entirely in the spirit of the day, and did not render any of the
characteristic features of the old Epics. But they drew attention to them, and
Page 49
by the end of the century, University Professors began to lecture on old
French poetry. The exertions of M. Paulin Paris, of M. Francisque Michel,
and of some German scholars first brought about the re-editing of the
Chansons in their original form about half a century ago; and since that time
they have received steady attention, and a large number have been
published—a number to which additions are yearly being made. Rather
more than half the known total are now in print.
FOOTNOTES:
[17] Gesta or Geste has three senses: (a) the deeds of a hero; (b) the chronicle of
those deeds; and (c) the family which that chronicle illustrates. The three chief
gestes are those of the King, of Doon de Mayence, and of Garin de Montglane.
Each of these is composed of many poems. Contrasted with these are the 'petites
gestes,' which include only a few Chansons.
[18] La Chanson de Roland, ed. Fr. Michel, Paris, 1837. The MS. is in the
Bodleian Library (Digby 23). Another, of much later date in point of writing but
representing the same text, exists at Venice. Of later versions there are six
manuscripts extant. The Chanson de Roland has since its editio princeps been
repeatedly re-edited, translated, and commented. The most exact edition is that
of Prof. Stengel, Heilbronn, 1878, who has given the Bodleian Manuscript both
in print and in photographic facsimile. The best for general use is that of Léon
Gautier (seventh edition), 1877.
[19] Wace (Roman de Rou, iii. 8038 Andresen) speaks of the Norman Taillefer
as singing at Hastings 'De Karlemaigne et de Rollant.' It has been sought, but
perhaps fancifully, to identify this song with the existing chanson.
[20] 'Ci falt la geste que Turoldus declinet.' The sense of the word declinet is
quite uncertain, and the attempts made to identify Turoldus are futile.
[21] Amis et Amiles, ed. Hoffmann. Erlangen, 1852.
[22] This series is given, sometimes in whole, sometimes in extracts, by Dr.
Jonckbloet, Guillaume d'Orange. The Hague, 1854.
[23] Ed. P. Paris. Paris, 1848.
[24] Ed. Boca. Valenciennes, 1841.
[25] Ed. Schéler. Brussels, 1877.
[26] Ed. Barrois. Paris, 1842.
[27] There exists a Provençal version of it, evidently translated from the French.
The most convenient edition is that of Kroeber and Servois, Paris, 1860. There is
an English fourteenth-century version published by Mr. Herrtage for the Early
English Text Society, 1879.
French poetry. The exertions of M. Paulin Paris, of M. Francisque Michel,
and of some German scholars first brought about the re-editing of the
Chansons in their original form about half a century ago; and since that time
they have received steady attention, and a large number have been
published—a number to which additions are yearly being made. Rather
more than half the known total are now in print.
FOOTNOTES:
[17] Gesta or Geste has three senses: (a) the deeds of a hero; (b) the chronicle of
those deeds; and (c) the family which that chronicle illustrates. The three chief
gestes are those of the King, of Doon de Mayence, and of Garin de Montglane.
Each of these is composed of many poems. Contrasted with these are the 'petites
gestes,' which include only a few Chansons.
[18] La Chanson de Roland, ed. Fr. Michel, Paris, 1837. The MS. is in the
Bodleian Library (Digby 23). Another, of much later date in point of writing but
representing the same text, exists at Venice. Of later versions there are six
manuscripts extant. The Chanson de Roland has since its editio princeps been
repeatedly re-edited, translated, and commented. The most exact edition is that
of Prof. Stengel, Heilbronn, 1878, who has given the Bodleian Manuscript both
in print and in photographic facsimile. The best for general use is that of Léon
Gautier (seventh edition), 1877.
[19] Wace (Roman de Rou, iii. 8038 Andresen) speaks of the Norman Taillefer
as singing at Hastings 'De Karlemaigne et de Rollant.' It has been sought, but
perhaps fancifully, to identify this song with the existing chanson.
[20] 'Ci falt la geste que Turoldus declinet.' The sense of the word declinet is
quite uncertain, and the attempts made to identify Turoldus are futile.
[21] Amis et Amiles, ed. Hoffmann. Erlangen, 1852.
[22] This series is given, sometimes in whole, sometimes in extracts, by Dr.
Jonckbloet, Guillaume d'Orange. The Hague, 1854.
[23] Ed. P. Paris. Paris, 1848.
[24] Ed. Boca. Valenciennes, 1841.
[25] Ed. Schéler. Brussels, 1877.
[26] Ed. Barrois. Paris, 1842.
[27] There exists a Provençal version of it, evidently translated from the French.
The most convenient edition is that of Kroeber and Servois, Paris, 1860. There is
an English fourteenth-century version published by Mr. Herrtage for the Early
English Text Society, 1879.
Page 50
[28] Published partially by MM. P. Paris and E. du Méril and by Herr Stengel.
[29] Ed. Le Glay. Paris, 1840.
[30] Ed. Michel. Paris, 1856.
[31] Ed. La Grange. Paris, 1864.
[32] Ed. Guessard. Paris, 1866.
[33] Ed. Guessard et Grandmaison. Paris, 1860.
[34] Ed. Michelant. Stuttgart, 1862.
[35] Ed. Michel. Paris, 1839.
[36] Ed. Schéler. Brussels, 1874.
[37] Ed. Pey. Paris, 1859.
[38] Ed. Tarbé. Rheims, 1850.
[39] Ed. Michel. London, 1836.
[40] It is very commonly said that this feature is confined to the later Chansons.
This is scarcely the fact, unless by 'later' we are to understand all except Roland.
In Roland itself the presentment is by no means wholly complimentary.
[41] The Turoldus of Roland has been already noticed. Of certain or tolerably
certain authors, Graindor de Douai (revisions of the early crusading Chansons of
'Richard the Pilgrim,' Antioche, &c.), Jean de Flagy (Garin), Bodel (Les
Saisnes), and Adenès le Roi, a fertile author or adapter of the thirteenth century,
are the most noted.
[42] Ferabras and Betonnet d'Hanstone. M. Paul Meyer has recently edited this
latter poem under the title of Daurel et Beton (Paris, 1880). To these should be
added a fragment, Aigar et Maurin, which seems to rank with Girartz.
[43] There has been some reaction of late years against the scepticism which
questioned the 'Provençal Epic.' I cannot however say, though I admit a certain
disqualification for judgment (see note at beginning of next chapter), that I see
any valid reason for this reaction.
[29] Ed. Le Glay. Paris, 1840.
[30] Ed. Michel. Paris, 1856.
[31] Ed. La Grange. Paris, 1864.
[32] Ed. Guessard. Paris, 1866.
[33] Ed. Guessard et Grandmaison. Paris, 1860.
[34] Ed. Michelant. Stuttgart, 1862.
[35] Ed. Michel. Paris, 1839.
[36] Ed. Schéler. Brussels, 1874.
[37] Ed. Pey. Paris, 1859.
[38] Ed. Tarbé. Rheims, 1850.
[39] Ed. Michel. London, 1836.
[40] It is very commonly said that this feature is confined to the later Chansons.
This is scarcely the fact, unless by 'later' we are to understand all except Roland.
In Roland itself the presentment is by no means wholly complimentary.
[41] The Turoldus of Roland has been already noticed. Of certain or tolerably
certain authors, Graindor de Douai (revisions of the early crusading Chansons of
'Richard the Pilgrim,' Antioche, &c.), Jean de Flagy (Garin), Bodel (Les
Saisnes), and Adenès le Roi, a fertile author or adapter of the thirteenth century,
are the most noted.
[42] Ferabras and Betonnet d'Hanstone. M. Paul Meyer has recently edited this
latter poem under the title of Daurel et Beton (Paris, 1880). To these should be
added a fragment, Aigar et Maurin, which seems to rank with Girartz.
[43] There has been some reaction of late years against the scepticism which
questioned the 'Provençal Epic.' I cannot however say, though I admit a certain
disqualification for judgment (see note at beginning of next chapter), that I see
any valid reason for this reaction.
Page 51
CHAPTER III.
PROVENÇAL LITERATURE.
The Romance language, spoken in the country now
called France, has two great divisions, the Langue d'Oc Langue d'Oc.
and the Langue d'Oil[44], which stand to one another in
hardly more intimate relationship than the first of them does to Spanish or
Italian. In strictness, the Langue d'Oc ought not to be called French at all,
inasmuch as those who spoke it applied that term exclusively to Northern
speech, calling their own Limousin, or Provençal, or Auvergnat. At the
time, moreover, when Provençal literature flourished, the districts which
contributed to it were in very loose relationship with the kingdom of
France; and when that relationship was drawn tighter, Provençal literature
began to wither and die. Yet it is not possible to avoid giving some sketch of
the literary developments of Southern France in any history of French
literature, as well because of the connection which subsisted between the
two branches, as because of the altogether mistaken views which have been
not unfrequently held as to that connection. Lord Macaulay[45] speaks of
Provençal in the twelfth century as 'the only one of the vernacular
languages of Europe which had yet been extensively employed for literary
purposes;' and the ignorance of their older literature which, until a very
recent period, distinguished Frenchmen has made it common for writers in
France to speak of the Troubadours as their own literary ancestors. We have
already seen that this supposition as applied to Epic poetry is entirely false;
we shall see hereafter that, except as regards some lyrical developments,
and those not the most characteristic, it is equally ill-grounded as to other
kinds of composition. But the literature of the South is quite interesting
enough in itself without borrowing what does not belong to it, and it
exhibits not a few characteristics which were afterwards blended with those
of the literature of the kingdom at large.
The domain of the Langue d'Oc is included between two
lines, the northernmost of which starts from the Atlantic Range and
PROVENÇAL LITERATURE.
The Romance language, spoken in the country now
called France, has two great divisions, the Langue d'Oc Langue d'Oc.
and the Langue d'Oil[44], which stand to one another in
hardly more intimate relationship than the first of them does to Spanish or
Italian. In strictness, the Langue d'Oc ought not to be called French at all,
inasmuch as those who spoke it applied that term exclusively to Northern
speech, calling their own Limousin, or Provençal, or Auvergnat. At the
time, moreover, when Provençal literature flourished, the districts which
contributed to it were in very loose relationship with the kingdom of
France; and when that relationship was drawn tighter, Provençal literature
began to wither and die. Yet it is not possible to avoid giving some sketch of
the literary developments of Southern France in any history of French
literature, as well because of the connection which subsisted between the
two branches, as because of the altogether mistaken views which have been
not unfrequently held as to that connection. Lord Macaulay[45] speaks of
Provençal in the twelfth century as 'the only one of the vernacular
languages of Europe which had yet been extensively employed for literary
purposes;' and the ignorance of their older literature which, until a very
recent period, distinguished Frenchmen has made it common for writers in
France to speak of the Troubadours as their own literary ancestors. We have
already seen that this supposition as applied to Epic poetry is entirely false;
we shall see hereafter that, except as regards some lyrical developments,
and those not the most characteristic, it is equally ill-grounded as to other
kinds of composition. But the literature of the South is quite interesting
enough in itself without borrowing what does not belong to it, and it
exhibits not a few characteristics which were afterwards blended with those
of the literature of the kingdom at large.
The domain of the Langue d'Oc is included between two
lines, the northernmost of which starts from the Atlantic Range and
Page 52
coast at or about the Charente, follows the northern characteristics.
boundaries of the old provinces of Perigord, Limousin,
Auvergne, and Dauphiné, and overlaps Savoy and a small portion of
Switzerland. The southern limit is formed by the Pyrenees, the Gulf of
Lyons, and the Alps, while Catalonia is overlapped to the south-west just as
Savoy is taken in on the north-east. This wide district gives room for not a
few dialectic varieties with which we need not here busy ourselves. The
general language is distinguished from northern French by the survival to a
greater degree of the vowel character of Latin. The vocabulary is less
dissolved and corroded by foreign influence, and the inflections remain
more distinct. The result, as in Spanish and Italian, is a language more
harmonious, softer, and more cunningly cadenced than northern French, but
endowed with far less vigour, variety, and freshness. The separate
development of the two tongues must have begun at a very early period. A
few early monuments, such as the Passion of Christ[46] and the Mystery of
the Ten Virgins[47], contain mixed dialects. But the earliest piece of
literature in pure Provençal is assigned in its original form to the tenth
century, and is entirely different from northern French[48]. It is arranged in
laisses and assonanced. The uniformity, however, of the terminations of
Provençal makes the assonances more closely approach rhyme than is the
case in northern poetry. Of the eleventh century the principal monuments
are a few charters, a translation of part of St. John's Gospel, and several
religious pieces in prose and verse. Not till the extreme end of this century
does the Troubadour begin to make himself heard. The earliest of these
minstrels whose songs we possess is William IX, Count of Poitiers. With
him Provençal literature, properly so called, begins.
The admirable historian of Provençal literature, Karl
Bartsch, divides its products into three periods; the first Periods of
Provençal
reaching to the end of the eleventh century, and Literature.
comprising the beginnings and experiments of the
language as a literary medium; the second covering the twelfth and
thirteenth centuries, the most flourishing time of the Troubadour poetry, and
possessing also specimens of many other forms of literary composition; the
third, the period of decadence, including the fourteenth and fifteenth
centuries, and remarkable chiefly for some religious literature, and for the
contests of the Toulouse school of poets. In a complete history of Provençal
boundaries of the old provinces of Perigord, Limousin,
Auvergne, and Dauphiné, and overlaps Savoy and a small portion of
Switzerland. The southern limit is formed by the Pyrenees, the Gulf of
Lyons, and the Alps, while Catalonia is overlapped to the south-west just as
Savoy is taken in on the north-east. This wide district gives room for not a
few dialectic varieties with which we need not here busy ourselves. The
general language is distinguished from northern French by the survival to a
greater degree of the vowel character of Latin. The vocabulary is less
dissolved and corroded by foreign influence, and the inflections remain
more distinct. The result, as in Spanish and Italian, is a language more
harmonious, softer, and more cunningly cadenced than northern French, but
endowed with far less vigour, variety, and freshness. The separate
development of the two tongues must have begun at a very early period. A
few early monuments, such as the Passion of Christ[46] and the Mystery of
the Ten Virgins[47], contain mixed dialects. But the earliest piece of
literature in pure Provençal is assigned in its original form to the tenth
century, and is entirely different from northern French[48]. It is arranged in
laisses and assonanced. The uniformity, however, of the terminations of
Provençal makes the assonances more closely approach rhyme than is the
case in northern poetry. Of the eleventh century the principal monuments
are a few charters, a translation of part of St. John's Gospel, and several
religious pieces in prose and verse. Not till the extreme end of this century
does the Troubadour begin to make himself heard. The earliest of these
minstrels whose songs we possess is William IX, Count of Poitiers. With
him Provençal literature, properly so called, begins.
The admirable historian of Provençal literature, Karl
Bartsch, divides its products into three periods; the first Periods of
Provençal
reaching to the end of the eleventh century, and Literature.
comprising the beginnings and experiments of the
language as a literary medium; the second covering the twelfth and
thirteenth centuries, the most flourishing time of the Troubadour poetry, and
possessing also specimens of many other forms of literary composition; the
third, the period of decadence, including the fourteenth and fifteenth
centuries, and remarkable chiefly for some religious literature, and for the
contests of the Toulouse school of poets. In a complete history of Provençal
Page 53
literature notice would also have to be taken of the fitful and spasmodic
attempts of the last four centuries to restore the dialect to the rank of a
literary language, attempts which have never been made with greater energy
and success than in our own time[49], but which hardly call for notice here.
The most remarkable works of the first period have been
already alluded to. This period may possibly have First Period.
produced original epics of the Chanson form, though, as
has been pointed out, no indications of any such exist, except in the solitary
instance of Girartz de Rossilho. The important poem of Auberi of Besançon
on Alexander is lost, except the first hundred verses. It is thought to be the
oldest vernacular poem on the subject, and is in a mixed dialect partaking of
the forms both of north and south. Hymns, sometimes in mixed Latin and
Provençal, sometimes entirely in the latter, are found early. A single prose
monument remains in the shape of a fragmentary translation of the Gospel
of St. John. But by far the most important example of this period is the
Boethius. The poem, as we have it, extends to 238 decasyllabic verses
arranged on the fashion of a Chanson de Geste, and dates from the eleventh
century, or at latest from the beginning of the twelfth, but is thought to be a
rehandling of another poem which may have been written nearly two
centuries earlier. The narrative part of the work is a mere introduction, the
bulk of it consisting of moral reflections taken from the De Consolatione.
It is only in the second period that Provençal literature
becomes of real importance. The stimulus which brought Second Period.
it to perfection has been generally taken to be that of the
crusades, aided by the great development of peaceful civilisation at home
which Provence and Languedoc then saw. The spirit of chivalry rose and
was diffused all over Europe at this time, and in some of its aspects it
received a greater welcome in Provence than anywhere else. For the
mystical, the adventurous, and other sides of the chivalrous character, we
must look to the North, and especially to the Arthurian legends, and the
Romans d'Aventures which they influenced. But, for what has been well
called 'la passion souveraine, aveugle, idolâtre, qui éclipse tous les autres
sentiments, qui dédaigne tous les devoirs, qui se moque de l'enfer et du ciel,
qui absorbe et possède l'âme entière[50],' we must come to the literature of
the south of France. Passion is indeed not the only motive of the
Troubadours, but it is their favourite motive, and their most successful. The
attempts of the last four centuries to restore the dialect to the rank of a
literary language, attempts which have never been made with greater energy
and success than in our own time[49], but which hardly call for notice here.
The most remarkable works of the first period have been
already alluded to. This period may possibly have First Period.
produced original epics of the Chanson form, though, as
has been pointed out, no indications of any such exist, except in the solitary
instance of Girartz de Rossilho. The important poem of Auberi of Besançon
on Alexander is lost, except the first hundred verses. It is thought to be the
oldest vernacular poem on the subject, and is in a mixed dialect partaking of
the forms both of north and south. Hymns, sometimes in mixed Latin and
Provençal, sometimes entirely in the latter, are found early. A single prose
monument remains in the shape of a fragmentary translation of the Gospel
of St. John. But by far the most important example of this period is the
Boethius. The poem, as we have it, extends to 238 decasyllabic verses
arranged on the fashion of a Chanson de Geste, and dates from the eleventh
century, or at latest from the beginning of the twelfth, but is thought to be a
rehandling of another poem which may have been written nearly two
centuries earlier. The narrative part of the work is a mere introduction, the
bulk of it consisting of moral reflections taken from the De Consolatione.
It is only in the second period that Provençal literature
becomes of real importance. The stimulus which brought Second Period.
it to perfection has been generally taken to be that of the
crusades, aided by the great development of peaceful civilisation at home
which Provence and Languedoc then saw. The spirit of chivalry rose and
was diffused all over Europe at this time, and in some of its aspects it
received a greater welcome in Provence than anywhere else. For the
mystical, the adventurous, and other sides of the chivalrous character, we
must look to the North, and especially to the Arthurian legends, and the
Romans d'Aventures which they influenced. But, for what has been well
called 'la passion souveraine, aveugle, idolâtre, qui éclipse tous les autres
sentiments, qui dédaigne tous les devoirs, qui se moque de l'enfer et du ciel,
qui absorbe et possède l'âme entière[50],' we must come to the literature of
the south of France. Passion is indeed not the only motive of the
Troubadours, but it is their favourite motive, and their most successful. The
Page 54
connection of this predominant instinct with the elaborate and unmatched
attention to form which characterises them is a psychological question very
interesting to discuss, but hardly suitable to these pages. It is sufficient here
to say that these various motives and influences produced the Troubadours
and their literature. This literature was chiefly lyrical in form, but also
included many other kinds, of which a short account may be given.
Girartz de Rossilho belongs in all probability to the earliest years of the
period, though the only Provençal manuscript in existence dates from the
end of the thirteenth century. In the third decade of the twelfth Guillem
Bechada had written a poem on the conquest of Jerusalem by the Crusaders,
which, however, has perished, though the northern cycle of the Chevalier au
Cygne may represent it in part. Guillem of Poitiers also wrote a historical
poem on the Crusades with similar ill fate. But the most famous of
historical poems in Provençal has fortunately been preserved to us. This is
the chronicle of the Albigensian War, written in Alexandrines by William of
Tudela and an anonymous writer. We also possess a rhymed chronicle of the
war of 1276-77 in Navarre, by Guillem Anelier. In connection with the
Arthurian cycle there exists a Provençal Roman d'Aventures, entitled
Jaufré. The testimony of Wolfram von Eschenbach would appear to be
decisive as to the existence of a Provençal continuation of Chrestien's
Percevale by a certain Kiot or Guyot, but nothing more is known of this.
Blandin de Cornoalha is another existing romance, and so is the far more
interesting Flamenca, a lively picture of manners dating from the middle of
the thirteenth century. In shorter and slighter narrative poems Provençal is
still less fruitful, though Raimon Vidal, Arnaut de Zurcasses, and one or two
other writers have left work of this kind. A very few narrative poems of a
sacred character are also found, and vestiges of drama may be traced. But,
as we have said, the real importance of the period consists in its lyrical
poetry, the poetry of the Troubadours. The names of 460 separate poets are
given, and 251 pieces have come down to us without the names of their
writers. We have here no space for dwelling on individual persons; it is
sufficient to mention as the most celebrated Arnaut Daniel, Bernart de
Ventadorn, Bertran de Born, Cercamon, Folquet de Marseilha, Gaucelm
Faidit, Guillem of Poitiers, Guillem de Cabestanh, Guiraut de Borneilh,
Guiraut Riquier, Jaufre Rudel, Marcabrun, Peire Cardenal, Peire Vidal,
Peirol, Raimbaut de Vaqueiras, Sordel.
attention to form which characterises them is a psychological question very
interesting to discuss, but hardly suitable to these pages. It is sufficient here
to say that these various motives and influences produced the Troubadours
and their literature. This literature was chiefly lyrical in form, but also
included many other kinds, of which a short account may be given.
Girartz de Rossilho belongs in all probability to the earliest years of the
period, though the only Provençal manuscript in existence dates from the
end of the thirteenth century. In the third decade of the twelfth Guillem
Bechada had written a poem on the conquest of Jerusalem by the Crusaders,
which, however, has perished, though the northern cycle of the Chevalier au
Cygne may represent it in part. Guillem of Poitiers also wrote a historical
poem on the Crusades with similar ill fate. But the most famous of
historical poems in Provençal has fortunately been preserved to us. This is
the chronicle of the Albigensian War, written in Alexandrines by William of
Tudela and an anonymous writer. We also possess a rhymed chronicle of the
war of 1276-77 in Navarre, by Guillem Anelier. In connection with the
Arthurian cycle there exists a Provençal Roman d'Aventures, entitled
Jaufré. The testimony of Wolfram von Eschenbach would appear to be
decisive as to the existence of a Provençal continuation of Chrestien's
Percevale by a certain Kiot or Guyot, but nothing more is known of this.
Blandin de Cornoalha is another existing romance, and so is the far more
interesting Flamenca, a lively picture of manners dating from the middle of
the thirteenth century. In shorter and slighter narrative poems Provençal is
still less fruitful, though Raimon Vidal, Arnaut de Zurcasses, and one or two
other writers have left work of this kind. A very few narrative poems of a
sacred character are also found, and vestiges of drama may be traced. But,
as we have said, the real importance of the period consists in its lyrical
poetry, the poetry of the Troubadours. The names of 460 separate poets are
given, and 251 pieces have come down to us without the names of their
writers. We have here no space for dwelling on individual persons; it is
sufficient to mention as the most celebrated Arnaut Daniel, Bernart de
Ventadorn, Bertran de Born, Cercamon, Folquet de Marseilha, Gaucelm
Faidit, Guillem of Poitiers, Guillem de Cabestanh, Guiraut de Borneilh,
Guiraut Riquier, Jaufre Rudel, Marcabrun, Peire Cardenal, Peire Vidal,
Peirol, Raimbaut de Vaqueiras, Sordel.
Page 55
The chief forms in which these poets exercised their
ingenuity were as follows. The simplest and oldest was Forms of
Troubadour Poetry.
called simply vers; it had few artificial rules, was written
in octosyllabic lines, and arranged in stanzas. From this was developed the
canso, the most usual of Provençal forms. Here the rhymes were interlaced,
and the alternation of masculine and feminine by degrees observed. The
length of the lines varied. Both these forms were consecrated to love verse;
the Sirvente, on the other hand, is panegyrical or satirical, its meaning being
literally 'Song of Service.' It consisted for the most part of short stanzas,
simply rhyme, and corresponding exactly to one another. The planh or
Complaint was a dirge or funeral song written generally in decasyllabics.
The tenson or debate is in dialogue form, and when there are more than two
disputants is called torneijamens. The narrative Romance existed in
Provençal as well as the balada or three-stanza poem, usually with refrain.
The retroensa is a longer refrain poem of later date, but in neither is the
return of the same rhyme in each stanza necessarily observed, as in the
French ballade. The alba is a leave-taking poem at morning, and the serena
(if it can be called a form, for scarcely more than a single example exists) a
poem of remembrance and longing at eventide. The pastorela, which had
numerous sub-divisions, explains itself. The descort is a poem something
like the irregular ode, which varies the structure of its stanzas. The sextine,
in six stanzas of identical and complicated versification, is the stateliest of
all Provençal forms. Not merely the rhymes but the words which rhyme are
repeated on a regular scheme. The breu-doble (double-short) is a curious
little form on three rhymes, two of which are repeated twice in three four-
lined stanzas, and given once in a concluding couplet, while the third
finishes each quatrain. Other forms are often mentioned and given, but they
are not of much consequence.
The prose of the best period of Provençal literature is of little importance.
Its most considerable remains, besides religious works and a few scientific
and grammatical treatises, are a prose version of the Chanson des Albigeois,
and an interesting collection of contemporary lives of the Troubadours.
The productiveness of the last two centuries of
Provençal literature proper has been spoken of by the Third Period.
highest living authority as at most an aftermath. At the
beginning of the fourteenth century, Arnaut Vidal wrote a Roman
ingenuity were as follows. The simplest and oldest was Forms of
Troubadour Poetry.
called simply vers; it had few artificial rules, was written
in octosyllabic lines, and arranged in stanzas. From this was developed the
canso, the most usual of Provençal forms. Here the rhymes were interlaced,
and the alternation of masculine and feminine by degrees observed. The
length of the lines varied. Both these forms were consecrated to love verse;
the Sirvente, on the other hand, is panegyrical or satirical, its meaning being
literally 'Song of Service.' It consisted for the most part of short stanzas,
simply rhyme, and corresponding exactly to one another. The planh or
Complaint was a dirge or funeral song written generally in decasyllabics.
The tenson or debate is in dialogue form, and when there are more than two
disputants is called torneijamens. The narrative Romance existed in
Provençal as well as the balada or three-stanza poem, usually with refrain.
The retroensa is a longer refrain poem of later date, but in neither is the
return of the same rhyme in each stanza necessarily observed, as in the
French ballade. The alba is a leave-taking poem at morning, and the serena
(if it can be called a form, for scarcely more than a single example exists) a
poem of remembrance and longing at eventide. The pastorela, which had
numerous sub-divisions, explains itself. The descort is a poem something
like the irregular ode, which varies the structure of its stanzas. The sextine,
in six stanzas of identical and complicated versification, is the stateliest of
all Provençal forms. Not merely the rhymes but the words which rhyme are
repeated on a regular scheme. The breu-doble (double-short) is a curious
little form on three rhymes, two of which are repeated twice in three four-
lined stanzas, and given once in a concluding couplet, while the third
finishes each quatrain. Other forms are often mentioned and given, but they
are not of much consequence.
The prose of the best period of Provençal literature is of little importance.
Its most considerable remains, besides religious works and a few scientific
and grammatical treatises, are a prose version of the Chanson des Albigeois,
and an interesting collection of contemporary lives of the Troubadours.
The productiveness of the last two centuries of
Provençal literature proper has been spoken of by the Third Period.
highest living authority as at most an aftermath. At the
beginning of the fourteenth century, Arnaut Vidal wrote a Roman
Page 56
d'Aventures entitled Guillem de la Barra. This poet, like most of the other
literary names of the period, belongs to the school of Toulouse, a somewhat
artificial band of writers who flourished throughout the fourteenth and
fifteenth centuries, held poetical tournaments on the first Sunday in May,
invented or adopted the famous phrase gai saber for their pursuits, and
received, if they were successful, the equally famous Golden Violet and
minor trinkets of the same sort. The brotherhood directed itself by an art of
poetry in which the half-forgotten traditions of more spontaneous times
were gathered up.
To this period, and to its latter part, the Waldensian writings entitled La
Nobla Leyczon, to which ignorance and sectarian enthusiasm had given a
much earlier date, are now assigned. There is also a considerable mass of
miscellaneous literature, but nothing of great value, or having much to do
with the only point which is here of importance, the distinctive character of
Provençal literature, and the influence of that literature upon the
development of letters in France generally. With a few words on these two
points this chapter may be concluded.
It may be regarded as not proven that any initial
influence was exercised over northern French literature Literary Relation of
Provençal and
by the literature of the South, and more than this, it may French.
be held to be unlikely that any such influence was
exerted. For in the first place all the more important Defects of
developments of the latter, the Epic, the Drama, the Provençal
Fabliau, are distinctly of northern birth, and either do not Literature.
exist in Provençal at all, or exist for the most part as
imitations of northern originals. With regard to lyric poetry the case is
rather different. The earliest existing lyrics of the North are somewhat later
than the earliest songs of the Troubadours, and no great lyrical variety or
elegance is reached until the Troubadours' work had, by means of Thibaut
de Champagne and others, had an opportunity of penetrating into northern
France. On the other hand, the forms which finished lyric adopted in the
North are by no means identical with those of the Troubadours. The
scientific and melodious figures of the Ballade, the Rondeau, the Chant-
royal, the Rondel, and the Villanelle, cannot by any ingenuity be deduced
from Canso or Balada, Retroensa or Breu-Doble. The Alba and the
Pastorela agree in subject with the Aubade and the Pastourelle, but have no
literary names of the period, belongs to the school of Toulouse, a somewhat
artificial band of writers who flourished throughout the fourteenth and
fifteenth centuries, held poetical tournaments on the first Sunday in May,
invented or adopted the famous phrase gai saber for their pursuits, and
received, if they were successful, the equally famous Golden Violet and
minor trinkets of the same sort. The brotherhood directed itself by an art of
poetry in which the half-forgotten traditions of more spontaneous times
were gathered up.
To this period, and to its latter part, the Waldensian writings entitled La
Nobla Leyczon, to which ignorance and sectarian enthusiasm had given a
much earlier date, are now assigned. There is also a considerable mass of
miscellaneous literature, but nothing of great value, or having much to do
with the only point which is here of importance, the distinctive character of
Provençal literature, and the influence of that literature upon the
development of letters in France generally. With a few words on these two
points this chapter may be concluded.
It may be regarded as not proven that any initial
influence was exercised over northern French literature Literary Relation of
Provençal and
by the literature of the South, and more than this, it may French.
be held to be unlikely that any such influence was
exerted. For in the first place all the more important Defects of
developments of the latter, the Epic, the Drama, the Provençal
Fabliau, are distinctly of northern birth, and either do not Literature.
exist in Provençal at all, or exist for the most part as
imitations of northern originals. With regard to lyric poetry the case is
rather different. The earliest existing lyrics of the North are somewhat later
than the earliest songs of the Troubadours, and no great lyrical variety or
elegance is reached until the Troubadours' work had, by means of Thibaut
de Champagne and others, had an opportunity of penetrating into northern
France. On the other hand, the forms which finished lyric adopted in the
North are by no means identical with those of the Troubadours. The
scientific and melodious figures of the Ballade, the Rondeau, the Chant-
royal, the Rondel, and the Villanelle, cannot by any ingenuity be deduced
from Canso or Balada, Retroensa or Breu-Doble. The Alba and the
Pastorela agree in subject with the Aubade and the Pastourelle, but have no
Page 57
necessary or obvious connection of form. It would, however, be almost as
great a mistake to deny the influence of the spirit of Provençal literature
over French, as to regard the two as standing in the position of mother and
daughter. The Troubadours undoubtedly preceded their Northern brethren in
scrupulous attention to poetical form, and in elaborate devices for ensuring
such attention. They preceded them too in recognising that quality in poetry
for which there is perhaps no other word than elegance. There can be little
doubt that they sacrificed to these two divinities, elegance and the formal
limitation of verse, matters almost equally if not more important. The
motives of their poems are few, and the treatment of those motives
monotonous. Love, war, and personal enmity, with a certain amount of
more or less frigid didactics, almost complete the list. In dealing with the
first and the most fruitful, they fell into the deadly error of stereotyping
their manner of expression. Objection has sometimes been taken to the
'eternal hawthorn and nightingale' of Provençal poetry. The objection would
hardly be fatal, if this eternity did not extend to a great many things besides
hawthorn and nightingales. In the later Troubadours especially, the fault
which has been urged against French dramatic literature just before the
Romantic movement was conspicuously anticipated. Every mood, every
situation of passion, was catalogued and analysed, and the proper method of
treatment, with similes and metaphors complete, was assigned. There was
no freshness and no variety, and in the absence of variety and freshness, that
of vigour was necessarily implied. It may even be doubted whether the
influence of this hot-house verse on the more natural literature of the North
was not injurious rather than beneficial. Certain it is that the artificial poetry
of the Trouvères went (in the persons of the Rondeau and Ballade-writing
Rhétoriqueurs of the fifteenth century) the same way and came to the same
end, that its elder sister had already trodden and reached with the
competitors for the Violet, the Eglantine, and the Marigold of Toulouse.
FOOTNOTES:
[44] Oc and oil (hoc and hoc illud), the respective terms indicating affirmation.
In this chapter the information given is based on a smaller acquaintance at first
hand with the subject than is the case in the chapters on French proper. Herr Karl
Bartsch has been the guide chiefly followed.
[45] Essay on Ranke's History of the Popes.
great a mistake to deny the influence of the spirit of Provençal literature
over French, as to regard the two as standing in the position of mother and
daughter. The Troubadours undoubtedly preceded their Northern brethren in
scrupulous attention to poetical form, and in elaborate devices for ensuring
such attention. They preceded them too in recognising that quality in poetry
for which there is perhaps no other word than elegance. There can be little
doubt that they sacrificed to these two divinities, elegance and the formal
limitation of verse, matters almost equally if not more important. The
motives of their poems are few, and the treatment of those motives
monotonous. Love, war, and personal enmity, with a certain amount of
more or less frigid didactics, almost complete the list. In dealing with the
first and the most fruitful, they fell into the deadly error of stereotyping
their manner of expression. Objection has sometimes been taken to the
'eternal hawthorn and nightingale' of Provençal poetry. The objection would
hardly be fatal, if this eternity did not extend to a great many things besides
hawthorn and nightingales. In the later Troubadours especially, the fault
which has been urged against French dramatic literature just before the
Romantic movement was conspicuously anticipated. Every mood, every
situation of passion, was catalogued and analysed, and the proper method of
treatment, with similes and metaphors complete, was assigned. There was
no freshness and no variety, and in the absence of variety and freshness, that
of vigour was necessarily implied. It may even be doubted whether the
influence of this hot-house verse on the more natural literature of the North
was not injurious rather than beneficial. Certain it is that the artificial poetry
of the Trouvères went (in the persons of the Rondeau and Ballade-writing
Rhétoriqueurs of the fifteenth century) the same way and came to the same
end, that its elder sister had already trodden and reached with the
competitors for the Violet, the Eglantine, and the Marigold of Toulouse.
FOOTNOTES:
[44] Oc and oil (hoc and hoc illud), the respective terms indicating affirmation.
In this chapter the information given is based on a smaller acquaintance at first
hand with the subject than is the case in the chapters on French proper. Herr Karl
Bartsch has been the guide chiefly followed.
[45] Essay on Ranke's History of the Popes.
Page 58
[46] See chap. i.
[47] See chap. x.
[48] The poem on Boethius. See chap. i.
[49] By the school of the so-called Félibres, of whom Mistral and Aubanel are
the chief.
[50] Moland and Héricault's Introduction to Aucassin et Nicolette. Paris, 1856.
[47] See chap. x.
[48] The poem on Boethius. See chap. i.
[49] By the school of the so-called Félibres, of whom Mistral and Aubanel are
the chief.
[50] Moland and Héricault's Introduction to Aucassin et Nicolette. Paris, 1856.
Page 59
CHAPTER IV.
ROMANCES OF ARTHUR AND OF ANTIQUITY.
The passion for narrative poetry, which at first contented
itself with stories drawn from the history or tradition of The Tale of Arthur.
Its Origins.
France, took before very long a wider range. The origin
of the Legend of King Arthur, of the Round Table, of the Holy Graal, and of
all the adventures and traditions connected with these centres, is one of the
most intricate questions in the history of mediaeval literature. It would be
beyond the scope of this book to attempt to deal with it at length. It is
sufficient for our purpose, in the first place, to point out that the question of
the actual existence and acts of Arthur has very little to do with the question
of the origin of the Arthurian cycle. The history of mediaeval literature, as
distinguished from the history of the Middle Ages, need not concern itself
with any conflict between the invaders and the older inhabitants of England.
The question which is of historical literary interest is, whether the traditions
which Geoffrey of Monmouth, Walter Map, Chrestien de Troyes, and their
followers, wrought into a fabric of such astounding extent and complexity,
are due to Breton originals, or whether their authority is nothing but the
ingenuity of Geoffrey working upon the meagre data of Nennius[51]. As far
as this question concerns French literature, the chief champions of these
rival opinions were till lately M. de la Villemarqué and M. Paulin Paris. In
no instance was the former able to produce Breton or Celtic originals of
early date. On the other hand, M. Paris showed that Nennius is sufficient to
account for Geoffrey, and that Geoffrey is sufficient to account for the
purely Arthurian part of subsequent romances and chronicles. The religious
element of the cycle has a different origin, and may possibly not be Celtic at
all. Lastly, we must take into account a large body of Breton and Welsh
poetry from which, especially in the parts of the legend which deal with
Tristram, with King Mark, &c., amplifications have been devised. It must,
however, still be admitted that the extraordinary rapidity with which so vast
a growth of literature was produced, apparently from the slenderest stock, is
one of the most surprising things in literary history. Before the middle of
ROMANCES OF ARTHUR AND OF ANTIQUITY.
The passion for narrative poetry, which at first contented
itself with stories drawn from the history or tradition of The Tale of Arthur.
Its Origins.
France, took before very long a wider range. The origin
of the Legend of King Arthur, of the Round Table, of the Holy Graal, and of
all the adventures and traditions connected with these centres, is one of the
most intricate questions in the history of mediaeval literature. It would be
beyond the scope of this book to attempt to deal with it at length. It is
sufficient for our purpose, in the first place, to point out that the question of
the actual existence and acts of Arthur has very little to do with the question
of the origin of the Arthurian cycle. The history of mediaeval literature, as
distinguished from the history of the Middle Ages, need not concern itself
with any conflict between the invaders and the older inhabitants of England.
The question which is of historical literary interest is, whether the traditions
which Geoffrey of Monmouth, Walter Map, Chrestien de Troyes, and their
followers, wrought into a fabric of such astounding extent and complexity,
are due to Breton originals, or whether their authority is nothing but the
ingenuity of Geoffrey working upon the meagre data of Nennius[51]. As far
as this question concerns French literature, the chief champions of these
rival opinions were till lately M. de la Villemarqué and M. Paulin Paris. In
no instance was the former able to produce Breton or Celtic originals of
early date. On the other hand, M. Paris showed that Nennius is sufficient to
account for Geoffrey, and that Geoffrey is sufficient to account for the
purely Arthurian part of subsequent romances and chronicles. The religious
element of the cycle has a different origin, and may possibly not be Celtic at
all. Lastly, we must take into account a large body of Breton and Welsh
poetry from which, especially in the parts of the legend which deal with
Tristram, with King Mark, &c., amplifications have been devised. It must,
however, still be admitted that the extraordinary rapidity with which so vast
a growth of literature was produced, apparently from the slenderest stock, is
one of the most surprising things in literary history. Before the middle of
Page 60
the twelfth century little or nothing is heard of Arthur. Before that century
closed at least a dozen poems and romances in prose, many of them of great
length, had elaborated the whole legend as it was thenceforward received,
and as we have it condensed and Englished in Malory's well-known book
two centuries and a half later.
The probable genesis of the Arthurian legend, in so far
as it concerns French literature, appears to be as follows. Order of French
First in order of composition, and also in order of Arthurian Cycle.
thought, comes the Legend of Joseph of Arimathea, sometimes called the
'Little St. Graal.' This we have both in verse and prose, and one or both of
these versions is the work of Robert de Borron, a knight and trouvère
possessed of lands in the Gâtinais[52]. There is nothing in this work which is
directly connected with Arthur. By some it has been attributed to a Latin,
but not now producible, 'Book of the Graal,' by others to Byzantine
originals. Anyhow it fell into the hands of the well-known Walter Map[53],
and his exhaustless energy and invention at once seized upon it. He
produced the 'Great St. Graal,' a very much extended version of the early
history of the sacred vase, still keeping clear of definite connection with
Arthur, though tending in that direction. From this, in its turn, sprang the
original form of Percevale, which represents a quest for the vessel by a
knight who has not originally anything to do with the Round Table. The link
of connection between the two stories is to be found in the Merlin,
attributed also to Robert de Borron, wherein the Welsh legends begin to
have more definite influence. This, in its turn, leads to Artus, which gives
the early history of the great king. Then comes the most famous, most
extensive, and finest of all the romances, that of Lancelot du Lac, which is
pretty certainly in part, and perhaps in great part, the work of Map; as is
also the mystical and melancholy but highly poetical Quest of the Saint
Graal, a quest of which Galahad and Lancelot, not, as in the earlier legends,
Percival, are the heroes. To this succeeds the Mort Artus, which forms the
conclusion of the whole, properly speaking. This, however, does not
entirely complete the cycle. Later than Borron, Map, and their unknown
fellow-workers (if such they had), arose one or more trouvères, who worked
up the ancient Celtic legends and lays of Tristram into the Romance of
Tristan, connecting this, more or less clumsily, with the main legend of the
Round Table. Other legends were worked up into the omnium gatherum of
closed at least a dozen poems and romances in prose, many of them of great
length, had elaborated the whole legend as it was thenceforward received,
and as we have it condensed and Englished in Malory's well-known book
two centuries and a half later.
The probable genesis of the Arthurian legend, in so far
as it concerns French literature, appears to be as follows. Order of French
First in order of composition, and also in order of Arthurian Cycle.
thought, comes the Legend of Joseph of Arimathea, sometimes called the
'Little St. Graal.' This we have both in verse and prose, and one or both of
these versions is the work of Robert de Borron, a knight and trouvère
possessed of lands in the Gâtinais[52]. There is nothing in this work which is
directly connected with Arthur. By some it has been attributed to a Latin,
but not now producible, 'Book of the Graal,' by others to Byzantine
originals. Anyhow it fell into the hands of the well-known Walter Map[53],
and his exhaustless energy and invention at once seized upon it. He
produced the 'Great St. Graal,' a very much extended version of the early
history of the sacred vase, still keeping clear of definite connection with
Arthur, though tending in that direction. From this, in its turn, sprang the
original form of Percevale, which represents a quest for the vessel by a
knight who has not originally anything to do with the Round Table. The link
of connection between the two stories is to be found in the Merlin,
attributed also to Robert de Borron, wherein the Welsh legends begin to
have more definite influence. This, in its turn, leads to Artus, which gives
the early history of the great king. Then comes the most famous, most
extensive, and finest of all the romances, that of Lancelot du Lac, which is
pretty certainly in part, and perhaps in great part, the work of Map; as is
also the mystical and melancholy but highly poetical Quest of the Saint
Graal, a quest of which Galahad and Lancelot, not, as in the earlier legends,
Percival, are the heroes. To this succeeds the Mort Artus, which forms the
conclusion of the whole, properly speaking. This, however, does not
entirely complete the cycle. Later than Borron, Map, and their unknown
fellow-workers (if such they had), arose one or more trouvères, who worked
up the ancient Celtic legends and lays of Tristram into the Romance of
Tristan, connecting this, more or less clumsily, with the main legend of the
Round Table. Other legends were worked up into the omnium gatherum of
Page 61
Giron le Courtois, and with this the cycle proper ceases. The later poems
are attributed to two persons, called Luce de Gast and Hélie de Borron. But
not the slightest testimony can be adduced to show that any such persons
ever had existence[54].
These prose romances form for the most part the original literature of the
Arthurian story. But the vogue of this story was very largely increased by a
trouvère who used not prose but octosyllabic verse for his medium.
are attributed to two persons, called Luce de Gast and Hélie de Borron. But
not the slightest testimony can be adduced to show that any such persons
ever had existence[54].
These prose romances form for the most part the original literature of the
Arthurian story. But the vogue of this story was very largely increased by a
trouvère who used not prose but octosyllabic verse for his medium.
Page 62
As is the case with most of these early writers, little or
nothing is known of Chrestien de Troyes but his name. Chrestien de
He lived in the last half of the twelfth century, he was Troyes.
attached to the courts of Flanders, Hainault, and Champagne, and he wrote
most of his works for the lords of these fiefs. Besides his Arthurian work he
translated Ovid, and wrote some short poems. Chrestien de Troyes deserves
a higher place in literature than has sometimes been given to him. His
versification is so exceedingly easy and fluent as to appear almost
pedestrian at times; and his Chevalier à la Charrette, by which he is
perhaps most generally known, contrasts unfavourably in its prolixity with
the nervous and picturesque prose to which it corresponds. But Percevale
and the Chevalier au Lyon are very charming poems, deeply imbued with
the peculiar characteristics of the cycle—religious mysticism, passionate
gallantry, and refined courtesy of manners. Chrestien de Troyes
undoubtedly contributed not a little to the popularity of the Arthurian
legends. Although, by a singular chance, which has not yet been fully
explained, the originals appear to have been for the most part in prose, the
times were by no means ripe for the general enjoyment of work in such a
form. The reciter was still the general if not the only publisher, and
recitation almost of necessity implied poetical form. Chrestien did not
throw the whole of the work of his contemporaries into verse, but he did so
throw a considerable portion of it. His Arthurian works consist of Le
Chevalier à la Charrette, a very close rendering of an episode of Map's
Lancelot; Le Chevalier au Lyon, resting probably upon some previous work
not now in existence; Erec et Énide, the legend which every English reader
knows in Mr. Tennyson's Enid, and which seems to be purely Welsh; Cligès,
which may be called the first Roman d'Aventures; and lastly, Percevale, a
work of vast extent, continued by successive versifiers to the extent of some
fifty thousand lines, and probably representing in part a work of Robert de
Borron, which has only recently been printed by M. Hucher. Percevale is,
perhaps, the best example of Chrestien's fashion of composition. The work
of Borron is very short, amounting in all to some ninety pages in the reprint.
The Percevale le Gallois of Chrestien and his continuators, on the other
hand, contains, as has been said, more than forty-five thousand verses. This
amplification is produced partly by the importation of incidents and
nothing is known of Chrestien de Troyes but his name. Chrestien de
He lived in the last half of the twelfth century, he was Troyes.
attached to the courts of Flanders, Hainault, and Champagne, and he wrote
most of his works for the lords of these fiefs. Besides his Arthurian work he
translated Ovid, and wrote some short poems. Chrestien de Troyes deserves
a higher place in literature than has sometimes been given to him. His
versification is so exceedingly easy and fluent as to appear almost
pedestrian at times; and his Chevalier à la Charrette, by which he is
perhaps most generally known, contrasts unfavourably in its prolixity with
the nervous and picturesque prose to which it corresponds. But Percevale
and the Chevalier au Lyon are very charming poems, deeply imbued with
the peculiar characteristics of the cycle—religious mysticism, passionate
gallantry, and refined courtesy of manners. Chrestien de Troyes
undoubtedly contributed not a little to the popularity of the Arthurian
legends. Although, by a singular chance, which has not yet been fully
explained, the originals appear to have been for the most part in prose, the
times were by no means ripe for the general enjoyment of work in such a
form. The reciter was still the general if not the only publisher, and
recitation almost of necessity implied poetical form. Chrestien did not
throw the whole of the work of his contemporaries into verse, but he did so
throw a considerable portion of it. His Arthurian works consist of Le
Chevalier à la Charrette, a very close rendering of an episode of Map's
Lancelot; Le Chevalier au Lyon, resting probably upon some previous work
not now in existence; Erec et Énide, the legend which every English reader
knows in Mr. Tennyson's Enid, and which seems to be purely Welsh; Cligès,
which may be called the first Roman d'Aventures; and lastly, Percevale, a
work of vast extent, continued by successive versifiers to the extent of some
fifty thousand lines, and probably representing in part a work of Robert de
Borron, which has only recently been printed by M. Hucher. Percevale is,
perhaps, the best example of Chrestien's fashion of composition. The work
of Borron is very short, amounting in all to some ninety pages in the reprint.
The Percevale le Gallois of Chrestien and his continuators, on the other
hand, contains, as has been said, more than forty-five thousand verses. This
amplification is produced partly by the importation of incidents and
Page 63
episodes from other works, but still more by indulging in constant
diffuseness and what we must perhaps call commonplaces.
From a literary point of view the prose romances rank
far higher, especially those in which Map is known or Spirit and Literary
suspected to have had a hand. The peculiarity of what value
of Arthurian
Romances.
may be called their atmosphere is marked. An elaborate
and romantic system of mystical religious sentiment, finding vent in
imaginative and allegorical narrative, a remarkable refinement of manners,
and a combination of delight in battle with devotion to ladies, distinguish
them. This is, in short, the romantic spirit, or, as it is sometimes called, the
spirit of chivalry; and it cannot be too positively asserted that the Arthurian
romances communicate it to literature for the first time, and that nothing
like it is found in the classics. In the work of Map and his contemporaries it
is clearly perceivable. The most important element in this—courtesy—is, as
we have already noticed, almost entirely absent from the Chansons de
Gestes, and where it is present at all it is between persons who are
connected by some natural or artificial relation of comradeship or kin. Nor
are there many traces of it in such fragments and indications as we possess
of the Celtic originals, which may have helped in the production of the
Arthurian romances. No Carlovingian knight would have felt the horror of
Sir Bors when the Lady of Hungerford exercises her undoubted right by
flinging the body of her captive enemy on the camp of his uncle. Even the
chiefs who are presented in the Chanson d'Antioche as joking over the
cannibal banquet of the Roi des Tafurs, and permitting the dead bodies of
Saracens to be torn from the cemeteries and flung into the beleaguered city,
would have very much applauded the deed. Gallantry, again, is as much
absent from the Chansons as clemency and courtesy. The scene in Lancelot,
where Galahault first introduces the Queen and Lancelot to one another,
contrasts in the strongest manner with the downright courtship by which the
Bellicents and Nicolettes of the Carlovingian cycle are won. No doubt Map
represents to a great extent the sentiments of the polished court of England.
But he deserves the credit of having been the first, or almost the first, to
express such manners and sentiments, perhaps also of having being among
the first to conceive them.
These originals are not all equally represented in Malory's English
compilation. Of Robert de Borron's work little survives except by allusion.
diffuseness and what we must perhaps call commonplaces.
From a literary point of view the prose romances rank
far higher, especially those in which Map is known or Spirit and Literary
suspected to have had a hand. The peculiarity of what value
of Arthurian
Romances.
may be called their atmosphere is marked. An elaborate
and romantic system of mystical religious sentiment, finding vent in
imaginative and allegorical narrative, a remarkable refinement of manners,
and a combination of delight in battle with devotion to ladies, distinguish
them. This is, in short, the romantic spirit, or, as it is sometimes called, the
spirit of chivalry; and it cannot be too positively asserted that the Arthurian
romances communicate it to literature for the first time, and that nothing
like it is found in the classics. In the work of Map and his contemporaries it
is clearly perceivable. The most important element in this—courtesy—is, as
we have already noticed, almost entirely absent from the Chansons de
Gestes, and where it is present at all it is between persons who are
connected by some natural or artificial relation of comradeship or kin. Nor
are there many traces of it in such fragments and indications as we possess
of the Celtic originals, which may have helped in the production of the
Arthurian romances. No Carlovingian knight would have felt the horror of
Sir Bors when the Lady of Hungerford exercises her undoubted right by
flinging the body of her captive enemy on the camp of his uncle. Even the
chiefs who are presented in the Chanson d'Antioche as joking over the
cannibal banquet of the Roi des Tafurs, and permitting the dead bodies of
Saracens to be torn from the cemeteries and flung into the beleaguered city,
would have very much applauded the deed. Gallantry, again, is as much
absent from the Chansons as clemency and courtesy. The scene in Lancelot,
where Galahault first introduces the Queen and Lancelot to one another,
contrasts in the strongest manner with the downright courtship by which the
Bellicents and Nicolettes of the Carlovingian cycle are won. No doubt Map
represents to a great extent the sentiments of the polished court of England.
But he deserves the credit of having been the first, or almost the first, to
express such manners and sentiments, perhaps also of having being among
the first to conceive them.
These originals are not all equally represented in Malory's English
compilation. Of Robert de Borron's work little survives except by allusion.
Page 64
Lancelot du Lac itself, the most popular of all the romances, is very
disproportionately drawn upon. Of the youth of Lancelot, of the winning of
Dolorous Gard, of the war with the Saxons, and of the very curious episode
of the false Guinevere, there is nothing; while the most charming story of
Lancelot's relations with Galahault of Sorelois disappears, except in a few
passing allusions to the 'haughty prince.' On the other hand, the Quest of the
Saint Graal, the Mort Artus, some episodes of Lancelot (such as the
Chevalier à la Charrette), and many parts of Tristan and Giron le Courtois,
are given almost in full.
It seems also probable that considerable portions of the original form of the
Arthurian legends are as yet unknown, and have altogether perished. The
very interesting discovery in the Brussels Library, of a prose Percevale not
impossibly older than Chrestien, and quite different from that of Borron, is
an indication of this fact. So also is the discovery by Dr. Jonckbloet in the
Flemish Lancelot, which he has edited, of passages not to be found in the
existing and recognised French originals. The truth would appear to be that
the fascination of the subject, the unusual genius of those who first treated
it, and the tendency of the middle ages to favour imitation, produced in a
very short space of time (the last quarter or half of the twelfth century) an
immense amount of original handling of Geoffrey's theme. To this original
period succeeded one of greater length, in which the legends were
developed not merely by French followers and imitators of Chrestien, but
by his great German adapters, Wolfram von Eschenbach, Gottfried of
Strasburg, Hartmann von der Aue, and by other imitators at home and
abroad. Lastly, as we shall see in a future chapter, come Romans
d'Aventures, connecting themselves by links more or less immediate with
the Round Table cycle, but independent and often quite separate in their
main incidents and catastrophes.
The great number, length, and diversity of the Arthurian romances make it
impossible in the space at our command to abstract all of them, and useless
to select any one, inasmuch as no single poem is (as in the case of the
Chansons) typical of the group. The style, however, of the prose and verse
divisions may be seen in the following extracts from the Chevalier à la
Charrette of Map, and the verse of Chrestien:—
disproportionately drawn upon. Of the youth of Lancelot, of the winning of
Dolorous Gard, of the war with the Saxons, and of the very curious episode
of the false Guinevere, there is nothing; while the most charming story of
Lancelot's relations with Galahault of Sorelois disappears, except in a few
passing allusions to the 'haughty prince.' On the other hand, the Quest of the
Saint Graal, the Mort Artus, some episodes of Lancelot (such as the
Chevalier à la Charrette), and many parts of Tristan and Giron le Courtois,
are given almost in full.
It seems also probable that considerable portions of the original form of the
Arthurian legends are as yet unknown, and have altogether perished. The
very interesting discovery in the Brussels Library, of a prose Percevale not
impossibly older than Chrestien, and quite different from that of Borron, is
an indication of this fact. So also is the discovery by Dr. Jonckbloet in the
Flemish Lancelot, which he has edited, of passages not to be found in the
existing and recognised French originals. The truth would appear to be that
the fascination of the subject, the unusual genius of those who first treated
it, and the tendency of the middle ages to favour imitation, produced in a
very short space of time (the last quarter or half of the twelfth century) an
immense amount of original handling of Geoffrey's theme. To this original
period succeeded one of greater length, in which the legends were
developed not merely by French followers and imitators of Chrestien, but
by his great German adapters, Wolfram von Eschenbach, Gottfried of
Strasburg, Hartmann von der Aue, and by other imitators at home and
abroad. Lastly, as we shall see in a future chapter, come Romans
d'Aventures, connecting themselves by links more or less immediate with
the Round Table cycle, but independent and often quite separate in their
main incidents and catastrophes.
The great number, length, and diversity of the Arthurian romances make it
impossible in the space at our command to abstract all of them, and useless
to select any one, inasmuch as no single poem is (as in the case of the
Chansons) typical of the group. The style, however, of the prose and verse
divisions may be seen in the following extracts from the Chevalier à la
Charrette of Map, and the verse of Chrestien:—
Page 65
Atant sont venu li chevalier jusqu'au pont: lors commencent à
plorer top durement tuit ensamble. Et Lanceloz lor demande
porquoi il plorent et font tel duel? Et il dient que c'est por l'amor
de lui, que trop est perillox li ponz. Atant esgarde Lanceloz l'ève
de çà et de là: si voit que ele est noire et coranz. Si avint que sa
véue torna devers la cité, si vit la tor où la raïne estoit as
fenestres. Lanceloz demande quel vile c'est là?—'Sire, font-il,
c'est le leus où la raïne est.' Si li noment la cité. Et il lor dit: 'Or
n'aiez garde de moi, que ge dont mains le pont que ge onques
mès ne fis, nè il n'est pas si périlleux d'assez comme ge cuidoie.
Mès moult a de là outre bele tor, et s'il m'i voloient hébergier il
m'i auroient encor ennuit à hoste.' Lors descent et les conforte
toz moult durement, et lor dit que il soient ausinc tout asséur
comme il est. Il li lacent les pans de son hauberc ensenble et li
cousent à gros fil de fer qu'il avoient aporté, et ses manches
méesmes li cousent dedenz ses mains, et les piez desoz; et à
bone poiz chaude li ont péez les manicles et tant d'espès comme
il ot entre les cuisses. Et ce fu por miauz tenir contre le trenchant
de l'espée.
Quant il orent Lancelot atorné et bien et bel si lor prie que il s'en
aillent. Et il s'en vont, et le font naigier outre l'ève, et il
enmainent son cheval. Et il vient à la planche droit: puis esgarde
vers la tor où la raïne estoit en prison, si li encline. Après fet le
signe de la verroie croiz enmi son vis, et met son escu derriers
son dos, qu'il ne li nuise. Lors se met desor la planche en
chevauchons, si se traïne par desus si armez comme il estoit, car
il ne li faut ne hauberc ne espée ne chauces ne heaume ne escu.
Et cil de la tor qui le véoient en sont tuit esbahï, ne il n'i a nul ne
nule qui saiche veroiement qui il est; mès qu'il voient qu'il traïne
pardesus l'espée trenchant à la force des braz et à l'enpaignement
des genouz; si ne remaint pas por les filz de fer que des piez et
des mains et des genous ne saille li sanz. Mès por cel péril de
l'espée qui trenche et por l'ève noire et bruiant et parfonde ne
remaint que plus ne resgart vers la tor que vers l'ève, ne plaie ne
angoisse qu'il ait ne prise naient; car se il à cele tor pooit venir il
plorer top durement tuit ensamble. Et Lanceloz lor demande
porquoi il plorent et font tel duel? Et il dient que c'est por l'amor
de lui, que trop est perillox li ponz. Atant esgarde Lanceloz l'ève
de çà et de là: si voit que ele est noire et coranz. Si avint que sa
véue torna devers la cité, si vit la tor où la raïne estoit as
fenestres. Lanceloz demande quel vile c'est là?—'Sire, font-il,
c'est le leus où la raïne est.' Si li noment la cité. Et il lor dit: 'Or
n'aiez garde de moi, que ge dont mains le pont que ge onques
mès ne fis, nè il n'est pas si périlleux d'assez comme ge cuidoie.
Mès moult a de là outre bele tor, et s'il m'i voloient hébergier il
m'i auroient encor ennuit à hoste.' Lors descent et les conforte
toz moult durement, et lor dit que il soient ausinc tout asséur
comme il est. Il li lacent les pans de son hauberc ensenble et li
cousent à gros fil de fer qu'il avoient aporté, et ses manches
méesmes li cousent dedenz ses mains, et les piez desoz; et à
bone poiz chaude li ont péez les manicles et tant d'espès comme
il ot entre les cuisses. Et ce fu por miauz tenir contre le trenchant
de l'espée.
Quant il orent Lancelot atorné et bien et bel si lor prie que il s'en
aillent. Et il s'en vont, et le font naigier outre l'ève, et il
enmainent son cheval. Et il vient à la planche droit: puis esgarde
vers la tor où la raïne estoit en prison, si li encline. Après fet le
signe de la verroie croiz enmi son vis, et met son escu derriers
son dos, qu'il ne li nuise. Lors se met desor la planche en
chevauchons, si se traïne par desus si armez comme il estoit, car
il ne li faut ne hauberc ne espée ne chauces ne heaume ne escu.
Et cil de la tor qui le véoient en sont tuit esbahï, ne il n'i a nul ne
nule qui saiche veroiement qui il est; mès qu'il voient qu'il traïne
pardesus l'espée trenchant à la force des braz et à l'enpaignement
des genouz; si ne remaint pas por les filz de fer que des piez et
des mains et des genous ne saille li sanz. Mès por cel péril de
l'espée qui trenche et por l'ève noire et bruiant et parfonde ne
remaint que plus ne resgart vers la tor que vers l'ève, ne plaie ne
angoisse qu'il ait ne prise naient; car se il à cele tor pooit venir il
Page 66
garroit tot maintenant de ses max. Tant s'est hertiez et traïnez
qu'il est venuz jusqu'à terre.
This becomes in the poem a passage more than 100 lines long, of which the
beginning and end may be given:—
Le droit chemin vont cheminant,
Tant que li jors vet déclinant,
Et vienent au pon de l'espée
Après none, vers la vesprée.
Au pié del' pont, qui molt est max,
Sont descendu de lor chevax,
Et voient l'ève félenesse
Noire et bruiant, roide et espesse,
Tant leide et tant espoantable
Com se fust li fluns au déable;
Et tant périlleuse et parfonde
Qu'il n'est riens nule an tot le monde
S'ele i chéoit, ne fust alée
Ausi com an la mer betée.
Et li ponz qui est an travers
Estoit de toz autres divers,
Qu'ainz tex ne fu ne jamès n'iert.
Einz ne fu, qui voir m'an requiert,
Si max pont ne si male planche:
D'une espée forbie et blanche
Estoit li ponz sor l'ève froide.
Mès l'espée estoit forz et roide,
Et avoit deus lances de lonc.
De chasque part ot uns grant tronc
Où l'espée estoit cloffichiée.
Jà nus ne dot que il i chiée.
Porce que ele brist ne ploit.
Si ne sanble-il pas qui la voit
Qu'ele puisse grant fès porter.
Ce feisoit molt desconforter
Les deus chevaliers qui estoient
Avoec le tierz, que il cuidoient
qu'il est venuz jusqu'à terre.
This becomes in the poem a passage more than 100 lines long, of which the
beginning and end may be given:—
Le droit chemin vont cheminant,
Tant que li jors vet déclinant,
Et vienent au pon de l'espée
Après none, vers la vesprée.
Au pié del' pont, qui molt est max,
Sont descendu de lor chevax,
Et voient l'ève félenesse
Noire et bruiant, roide et espesse,
Tant leide et tant espoantable
Com se fust li fluns au déable;
Et tant périlleuse et parfonde
Qu'il n'est riens nule an tot le monde
S'ele i chéoit, ne fust alée
Ausi com an la mer betée.
Et li ponz qui est an travers
Estoit de toz autres divers,
Qu'ainz tex ne fu ne jamès n'iert.
Einz ne fu, qui voir m'an requiert,
Si max pont ne si male planche:
D'une espée forbie et blanche
Estoit li ponz sor l'ève froide.
Mès l'espée estoit forz et roide,
Et avoit deus lances de lonc.
De chasque part ot uns grant tronc
Où l'espée estoit cloffichiée.
Jà nus ne dot que il i chiée.
Porce que ele brist ne ploit.
Si ne sanble-il pas qui la voit
Qu'ele puisse grant fès porter.
Ce feisoit molt desconforter
Les deus chevaliers qui estoient
Avoec le tierz, que il cuidoient
Page 67
Que dui lyon ou dui liepart
Au chief del' pont de l'autre part
Fussent lié à un perron.
L'ève et li ponz et li lyon
Les metent an itel fréor
Que il tranblent tuit de péor.
* * * * * *
Cil ne li sèvent plus que dire,
Mès de pitié plore et sopire
Li uns et li autres molt fort.
Et cil de trespasser le gort
Au mialz que il set s'aparoille,
Et fet molt estrange mervoille,
Que ses piez désire et ses mains.
N'iert mie toz antiers nè sains
Quant de l'autre part iert venuz.
Bien s'iert sor l'espée tenuz,
Qui plus estoit tranchanz que fauz,
As mains nues et si deschauz
Que il ne s'est lessiez an pié
Souler nè chauce n'avanpié.
De ce guères ne s'esmaioit
S'ès mains et ès piez se plaioit;
Mialz se voloit-il mahaignier
Que chéoir el pont et baignier
An l'ève dont jamès n'issist.
A la grant dolor con li sist
S'an passe outre et à grant destrece:
Mains et genolz et piez se blece.
Mès tot le rasoage et sainne
Amors qui le conduist et mainne:
Si li estoit à sofrir dolz.
A mains, à piez et à genolz
Fet tant que de l'autre part vient.
Au chief del' pont de l'autre part
Fussent lié à un perron.
L'ève et li ponz et li lyon
Les metent an itel fréor
Que il tranblent tuit de péor.
* * * * * *
Cil ne li sèvent plus que dire,
Mès de pitié plore et sopire
Li uns et li autres molt fort.
Et cil de trespasser le gort
Au mialz que il set s'aparoille,
Et fet molt estrange mervoille,
Que ses piez désire et ses mains.
N'iert mie toz antiers nè sains
Quant de l'autre part iert venuz.
Bien s'iert sor l'espée tenuz,
Qui plus estoit tranchanz que fauz,
As mains nues et si deschauz
Que il ne s'est lessiez an pié
Souler nè chauce n'avanpié.
De ce guères ne s'esmaioit
S'ès mains et ès piez se plaioit;
Mialz se voloit-il mahaignier
Que chéoir el pont et baignier
An l'ève dont jamès n'issist.
A la grant dolor con li sist
S'an passe outre et à grant destrece:
Mains et genolz et piez se blece.
Mès tot le rasoage et sainne
Amors qui le conduist et mainne:
Si li estoit à sofrir dolz.
A mains, à piez et à genolz
Fet tant que de l'autre part vient.
Page 68
About the same time as the flourishing of the Arthurian
cycle there began to be written the third great division of Romances of
Antiquity. Chanson
Jean Bodel, 'la matière de Rome la grant[55].' The most d'Alixandre.
important beyond all question of the poems which go to
make up this cycle (as it is sometimes called, though in reality its members
are quite independent one of the other) is the Romance of Alixandre. Of the
earliest French poem on this subject only a few fragments exist. This is
supposed to have been a work of the eleventh or very early twelfth century,
composed in octosyllabic verses, and in the mixed dialect common at the
time in the south-east, by Alberic or Auberi of Besançon or Briançon. The
Chanson d'Alixandre is, however, in all probability a much more important
work than Alberic's. It is in form a regular Chanson de Geste, written in
twelve-syllabled verse, of such strength and grace that the term Alexandrine
has cleaved ever since to the metre. Its length, as we have it[56], is 22,606
verses, and it is assigned to two authors, Lambert the Short[57] and
Alexander of Bernay, though doubt has been expressed whether any of the
present poem is due to Lambert; if we have any of his work, it is not later
than the ninth decade of the twelfth century. Lambert, Alexander, and
perhaps others, are thought to have known not Alberic, but a later ten-
syllabled version into Northern French by Simon of Poitiers. The remoter
sources are various. Foremost among them may undoubtedly be placed the
Pseudo-Callisthenes, an unknown Alexandrian writer translated into Latin
about the fourth century by Julius Valerius, who fathered upon the
philosopher a collection of stories partly gathered from Plutarch, Quintus
Curtius, and a hundred other authorities, partly elaborated according to the
fashion of Greek romancers. Some oriental traditions of Alexander were
also in the possession of western Europe. Out of all these, and with a
considerable admixture of the floating fables of the time, Lambert and
Alexander wove their work. There is, of course, not the slightest attempt at
antiquity of colour. Alexander has twelve peers, he learns the favourite
studies of the middle ages, he is dubbed knight, and so forth. Many
interesting legends, such as that of the Fountain of Perpetual Youth, make
their first appearance in the poem, and it is altogether one of extraordinary
merit. A specimen laisse may be given:—
En icele forest, dont vos m'oëz conter,
nesune male choze ne puet laianz entrer.
cycle there began to be written the third great division of Romances of
Antiquity. Chanson
Jean Bodel, 'la matière de Rome la grant[55].' The most d'Alixandre.
important beyond all question of the poems which go to
make up this cycle (as it is sometimes called, though in reality its members
are quite independent one of the other) is the Romance of Alixandre. Of the
earliest French poem on this subject only a few fragments exist. This is
supposed to have been a work of the eleventh or very early twelfth century,
composed in octosyllabic verses, and in the mixed dialect common at the
time in the south-east, by Alberic or Auberi of Besançon or Briançon. The
Chanson d'Alixandre is, however, in all probability a much more important
work than Alberic's. It is in form a regular Chanson de Geste, written in
twelve-syllabled verse, of such strength and grace that the term Alexandrine
has cleaved ever since to the metre. Its length, as we have it[56], is 22,606
verses, and it is assigned to two authors, Lambert the Short[57] and
Alexander of Bernay, though doubt has been expressed whether any of the
present poem is due to Lambert; if we have any of his work, it is not later
than the ninth decade of the twelfth century. Lambert, Alexander, and
perhaps others, are thought to have known not Alberic, but a later ten-
syllabled version into Northern French by Simon of Poitiers. The remoter
sources are various. Foremost among them may undoubtedly be placed the
Pseudo-Callisthenes, an unknown Alexandrian writer translated into Latin
about the fourth century by Julius Valerius, who fathered upon the
philosopher a collection of stories partly gathered from Plutarch, Quintus
Curtius, and a hundred other authorities, partly elaborated according to the
fashion of Greek romancers. Some oriental traditions of Alexander were
also in the possession of western Europe. Out of all these, and with a
considerable admixture of the floating fables of the time, Lambert and
Alexander wove their work. There is, of course, not the slightest attempt at
antiquity of colour. Alexander has twelve peers, he learns the favourite
studies of the middle ages, he is dubbed knight, and so forth. Many
interesting legends, such as that of the Fountain of Perpetual Youth, make
their first appearance in the poem, and it is altogether one of extraordinary
merit. A specimen laisse may be given:—
En icele forest, dont vos m'oëz conter,
nesune male choze ne puet laianz entrer.
Page 69
li home ne les bestes n'i ozent converser,
onques en nesun tans ne vit hon yverner
ne trop froit ne trop chaut ne neger ne geler.
ce conte l'escripture que hom n'i doit entrer,
se il nen at talent de conquerre ou d'amer.
les deuesses d'amors i doivent habiter,
car c'est lor paradix ou el doivent entrer,
li rois de Macedoine en a oï parler,
qui cercha les merveilles dou mont et de la mer,
et ce fist il meïsmes enz ou fons avaler
en un vessel de voirre, ce ne puet n'on fausser,
qu'il fist faire il meïsmes fort et rëont et cler
et enclorre de fer qu'il ne pëust quasser,
s'il l'estëust a roche ou aillors ahurter,
et si que il poet bien par mi outre esgarder,
por vëoir les poissons tornoier et joster
et faire lor agaiz et sovent cembeler.
et quant il vint a terre, nou mist a oublïer:
la prist la sapïence dou mont a conquester
et faire ses agaiz et sa gent ordener
et conduire les oz et sagement mener,
car ce fust toz li mieudres qui ainz pëust monter
en cheval por conquerre ne de lance joster,
li gentiz et li larges et ii prex por doner.
la forest des puceles ot oï deviser,
cil qui tot volt conquerre i ot talent d'aler:
souz ciel n'a home en terre qui l'en pëust torner.
While the figure of Alexander served as centre to one group of fictions,
most of which were composed in Chanson form, the octosyllabic metre,
which had made the Arthurian romances its own, was used for the
versification of another numerous class, most of which dealt with the tale of
Troy divine.
Here also the poems were neither entirely fictitious, nor
on the other hand based upon the best authorities. Dares Roman de Troie.
Phrygius and Dictys Cretensis, with some epitomes of
Homer, were the chief sources of information. The principal poem of this
onques en nesun tans ne vit hon yverner
ne trop froit ne trop chaut ne neger ne geler.
ce conte l'escripture que hom n'i doit entrer,
se il nen at talent de conquerre ou d'amer.
les deuesses d'amors i doivent habiter,
car c'est lor paradix ou el doivent entrer,
li rois de Macedoine en a oï parler,
qui cercha les merveilles dou mont et de la mer,
et ce fist il meïsmes enz ou fons avaler
en un vessel de voirre, ce ne puet n'on fausser,
qu'il fist faire il meïsmes fort et rëont et cler
et enclorre de fer qu'il ne pëust quasser,
s'il l'estëust a roche ou aillors ahurter,
et si que il poet bien par mi outre esgarder,
por vëoir les poissons tornoier et joster
et faire lor agaiz et sovent cembeler.
et quant il vint a terre, nou mist a oublïer:
la prist la sapïence dou mont a conquester
et faire ses agaiz et sa gent ordener
et conduire les oz et sagement mener,
car ce fust toz li mieudres qui ainz pëust monter
en cheval por conquerre ne de lance joster,
li gentiz et li larges et ii prex por doner.
la forest des puceles ot oï deviser,
cil qui tot volt conquerre i ot talent d'aler:
souz ciel n'a home en terre qui l'en pëust torner.
While the figure of Alexander served as centre to one group of fictions,
most of which were composed in Chanson form, the octosyllabic metre,
which had made the Arthurian romances its own, was used for the
versification of another numerous class, most of which dealt with the tale of
Troy divine.
Here also the poems were neither entirely fictitious, nor
on the other hand based upon the best authorities. Dares Roman de Troie.
Phrygius and Dictys Cretensis, with some epitomes of
Homer, were the chief sources of information. The principal poem of this
Page 70
class is the Roman de Troie of Benoist de Sainte More (c. 1160). This
work[58], which extends to more than thirty thousand verses, has the
redundancy and the long-windedness which characterise many, if not most,
early French poems written in its metre. But it has one merit which ought to
conciliate English readers to Benoist. It contains the undoubted original of
Shakespeare's Cressida. The fortunes of Cressid (or Briseida, as the French
trouvère names her) have been carefully traced out by MM. Moland,
Héricault[59], and Joly, and form a very curious chapter of literary history.
Nor is this episode the only one of merit in Benoist. His verse is always
fluent and facile, and not seldom picturesque, as the following extract
(Andromache's remonstrance with Hector) will show:—
Quant elle voit qe nëant iert,
o ses dous poinz granz cous se fiert,
fier duel demaine e fier martire,
ses cheveus trait e ront e tire.
bien resemble feme desvee:
tote enragiee, eschevelee,
e trestote fors de son sen
court pour son fil Asternaten.
des eux plore molt tendrement,
entre ses braz l'encharge e prent.
vint el palés atot arieres,
o il chauçoit ses genoillieres.
as piez li met e si li dit
'sire, por cest enfant petit
qe tu engendras de ta char
te pri nel tiegnes a eschar
ce qe je t'ai dit e nuncié.
aies de cest enfant pitié:
jamés des euz ne te verra.
s'ui assembles a ceux de la,
hui est ta mort, hui est ta fins.
de toi remandra orfenins.
cruëlz de cuer, lous enragiez,
par qoi ne vos en prent pitiez?
par qoi volez si tost morir?
work[58], which extends to more than thirty thousand verses, has the
redundancy and the long-windedness which characterise many, if not most,
early French poems written in its metre. But it has one merit which ought to
conciliate English readers to Benoist. It contains the undoubted original of
Shakespeare's Cressida. The fortunes of Cressid (or Briseida, as the French
trouvère names her) have been carefully traced out by MM. Moland,
Héricault[59], and Joly, and form a very curious chapter of literary history.
Nor is this episode the only one of merit in Benoist. His verse is always
fluent and facile, and not seldom picturesque, as the following extract
(Andromache's remonstrance with Hector) will show:—
Quant elle voit qe nëant iert,
o ses dous poinz granz cous se fiert,
fier duel demaine e fier martire,
ses cheveus trait e ront e tire.
bien resemble feme desvee:
tote enragiee, eschevelee,
e trestote fors de son sen
court pour son fil Asternaten.
des eux plore molt tendrement,
entre ses braz l'encharge e prent.
vint el palés atot arieres,
o il chauçoit ses genoillieres.
as piez li met e si li dit
'sire, por cest enfant petit
qe tu engendras de ta char
te pri nel tiegnes a eschar
ce qe je t'ai dit e nuncié.
aies de cest enfant pitié:
jamés des euz ne te verra.
s'ui assembles a ceux de la,
hui est ta mort, hui est ta fins.
de toi remandra orfenins.
cruëlz de cuer, lous enragiez,
par qoi ne vos en prent pitiez?
par qoi volez si tost morir?
Page 71
par qoi volez si tost guerpir
et moi e li e vostre pere
e voz serors e vostre mere?
par qoi nos laisseroiz perir?
coment porrons sens vos gerir?
lasse, com male destinee!'
a icest not chaï pasmee
a cas desus le paviment.
celle l'en lieve isnelement
qi estrange duel en demeine:
c'est sa seroge, dame Heleine.
The poems of the Cycle of Antiquity have hitherto been Other Romances on
less diligently studied and reprinted than those of the Classical subjects.
other two. Few of them, with the exception of Alixandre
and Troie, are to be read even in fragments, save in manuscript. Le Roman
d'Enéas, which is attributed to Benoist, is much shorter than the Roman de
Troie, and, with some omissions, follows Virgil pretty closely. Like many
other French poems, it was adapted in German by a Minnesinger, Heinrich
von Veldeke. Le Roman de Thèbes, of which there is some chance of an
edition, stands to Statius in the same relation as Enéas to Virgil. And Le
Roman de Jules César paraphrases, though not directly, Lucan. To these
must be added Athis et Prophilias (Porphyrias), or the Siege of Athens, a
work which has been assigned to many authors, and the origin of which is
not clear, though it enjoyed great popularity in the middle ages. The
Protesilaus of Hugues de Rotelande is the only other poem of this series
worth the mentioning.
Neither of these two classes of poems possesses the value of the Chansons
as documents for social history. The picture of manners in them is much
more artificial. But the Arthurian romances disclose partially and at
intervals a state of society decidedly more advanced than that of the
Chansons. The bourgeois, the country gentleman who is not of full baronial
rank, and other novel personages appear.
et moi e li e vostre pere
e voz serors e vostre mere?
par qoi nos laisseroiz perir?
coment porrons sens vos gerir?
lasse, com male destinee!'
a icest not chaï pasmee
a cas desus le paviment.
celle l'en lieve isnelement
qi estrange duel en demeine:
c'est sa seroge, dame Heleine.
The poems of the Cycle of Antiquity have hitherto been Other Romances on
less diligently studied and reprinted than those of the Classical subjects.
other two. Few of them, with the exception of Alixandre
and Troie, are to be read even in fragments, save in manuscript. Le Roman
d'Enéas, which is attributed to Benoist, is much shorter than the Roman de
Troie, and, with some omissions, follows Virgil pretty closely. Like many
other French poems, it was adapted in German by a Minnesinger, Heinrich
von Veldeke. Le Roman de Thèbes, of which there is some chance of an
edition, stands to Statius in the same relation as Enéas to Virgil. And Le
Roman de Jules César paraphrases, though not directly, Lucan. To these
must be added Athis et Prophilias (Porphyrias), or the Siege of Athens, a
work which has been assigned to many authors, and the origin of which is
not clear, though it enjoyed great popularity in the middle ages. The
Protesilaus of Hugues de Rotelande is the only other poem of this series
worth the mentioning.
Neither of these two classes of poems possesses the value of the Chansons
as documents for social history. The picture of manners in them is much
more artificial. But the Arthurian romances disclose partially and at
intervals a state of society decidedly more advanced than that of the
Chansons. The bourgeois, the country gentleman who is not of full baronial
rank, and other novel personages appear.
Page 72
Note to Third Edition.—Since the second edition was published M. Gaston
Paris has sketched in Romania and summarised in his Manuel, but has not
developed in book form, a view of the Arthurian romances different from
his father's and from that given in the text. In this view the importance of
'Celtic' originals is much increased, and that of Geoffrey diminished, Walter
Map disappears almost entirely to make room for divers unknown French
trouvères, the order of composition is altered, and on the whole a lower
estimate is formed of the literary value of the cycle. The 'Celtic' view has
also been maintained in a book of much learning and value, Studies on the
Legend of the Holy Grail (London, 1888), by Mr. Alfred Nutt. I have not
attempted to incorporate or to combat these views in the text for two
reasons, partly because they will most probably be superseded by others,
and partly because the evidence does not seem to me sufficient to establish
any of them certainly. But having given some years to comparative literary
criticism in different languages and periods, I think I may be entitled to give
a somewhat decided opinion against the 'Celtic' theory, and in favour of that
which assigns the special characteristics of the Arthurian cycle and all but a
very small part of its structure of incident to the literary imagination of the
trouvères, French and English, of the twelfth century. And I may add that as
a whole it seems to me quite the greatest literary creation of the Middle
Ages, except the Divina Commedia, though of course it has the necessary
inferiority of a collection by a great number of different hands to a work of
individual genius.
FOOTNOTES:
[51] Nennius, a Breton monk of the ninth century, has left a brief Latin
Chronicle in which is the earliest authentic account of the Legend of Arthur.
Geoffrey of Monmouth, circa 1140, produced a Historia Britonum, avowedly
based on a book brought from Britanny by Walter, Archdeacon of Oxford. No
trace of this book, unless it be Nennius, can be found. See note at end of chapter.
[52] Department of Seine-et-Marne, near Fontainebleau.
[53] Map as a person belongs rather to English than to French history. He lived
in the last three quarters of the twelfth century.
[54] These various Romances are not by any means equally open to study in
satisfactory critical editions. To take them chronologically, M. Hucher has
published Robert de Borron's Little Saint Graal in prose, his Percevale, and the
Great Saint Graal, with full and valuable if not incontestable notes, 3 vols.; Le
Paris has sketched in Romania and summarised in his Manuel, but has not
developed in book form, a view of the Arthurian romances different from
his father's and from that given in the text. In this view the importance of
'Celtic' originals is much increased, and that of Geoffrey diminished, Walter
Map disappears almost entirely to make room for divers unknown French
trouvères, the order of composition is altered, and on the whole a lower
estimate is formed of the literary value of the cycle. The 'Celtic' view has
also been maintained in a book of much learning and value, Studies on the
Legend of the Holy Grail (London, 1888), by Mr. Alfred Nutt. I have not
attempted to incorporate or to combat these views in the text for two
reasons, partly because they will most probably be superseded by others,
and partly because the evidence does not seem to me sufficient to establish
any of them certainly. But having given some years to comparative literary
criticism in different languages and periods, I think I may be entitled to give
a somewhat decided opinion against the 'Celtic' theory, and in favour of that
which assigns the special characteristics of the Arthurian cycle and all but a
very small part of its structure of incident to the literary imagination of the
trouvères, French and English, of the twelfth century. And I may add that as
a whole it seems to me quite the greatest literary creation of the Middle
Ages, except the Divina Commedia, though of course it has the necessary
inferiority of a collection by a great number of different hands to a work of
individual genius.
FOOTNOTES:
[51] Nennius, a Breton monk of the ninth century, has left a brief Latin
Chronicle in which is the earliest authentic account of the Legend of Arthur.
Geoffrey of Monmouth, circa 1140, produced a Historia Britonum, avowedly
based on a book brought from Britanny by Walter, Archdeacon of Oxford. No
trace of this book, unless it be Nennius, can be found. See note at end of chapter.
[52] Department of Seine-et-Marne, near Fontainebleau.
[53] Map as a person belongs rather to English than to French history. He lived
in the last three quarters of the twelfth century.
[54] These various Romances are not by any means equally open to study in
satisfactory critical editions. To take them chronologically, M. Hucher has
published Robert de Borron's Little Saint Graal in prose, his Percevale, and the
Great Saint Graal, with full and valuable if not incontestable notes, 3 vols.; Le
Page 73
Mans, 1875-1878. The verse form of the Little Saint Graal was published by M.
F. Michel in 1841. An edition of Artus was promised by M. Paulin Paris, but
interrupted or prevented by his death. The great works of Map, Lancelot and the
Quest, as well as the Mort Artus, have never been critically edited in full; and the
sixteenth-century editions being rare and exceedingly costly, as well as
uncritical, they are not easily accessible, except in M. Paris' Abstract and
Commentary, Les Romans de la Table Ronde, 5 vols., 1869-1877. Tristan was
published partially forty years ago by M. F. Michel. Merlin was edited in 1886
by M. G. Paris and M. Ulrich. A complete edition of Chrestien de Troyes has
been undertaken by Dr. Wendelin Förster and has preceded to its second volume
(Yvain). This under its second title of Le Chevalier au Lyon has also been edited
by Dr. Holland (third edition 1886). Besides this there is the great Romance of
Percevale (continued by others, especially a certain Manessier), of which M.
Potvin has given an excellent edition, 6 vols., Mons, 1867-1872, including in it a
previously unknown prose version of the Romance of very early date; Le
Chevalier à la Charrette, continued by Godefroy de Lagny, and edited, with the
original prose from Lancelot du Lac, by Dr. Jonckbloet (The Hague, 1850); and
Erec et Énide, by M. Haupt (Berlin, 1860). This piecemeal condition of the texts,
and the practical inaccessibility of many of them, make independent judgment in
the matter very difficult. What is wanted first of all is a book on the plan of M.
Léon Gautier's Epopées Françaises, giving a complete account of all the existing
texts—for the entire editing of these latter must necessarily take a very long
time. The statements made above represent the opinions which appear most
probable to the writer, not merely from the comparison of authorities on the
subject, but from the actual study of the texts as far as they are open to him. (See
note at end of Chapter.)
[55] This expression occurs in the Chanson des Saisnes, i. 6. 7: 'Ne sont que iij
matières a nul home atandant, De France et de Bretaigne et de Rome la grant.'
[56] Ed. Michelant. Stuttgart, 1846.
[57] Li Cors, otherwise li tors 'the crooked.' Since this book was first written M.
Paul Meyer has treated the whole subject of the paragraph in an admirable
monograph, Alexandre le Grand dans la Littérature Française du Moyen Age, 2
vols. Paris, 1886.
[58] Ed. Joly. Rouen, 1870.
[59] Moland and Héricault's Nouvelles du XIVème Siècle. Paris, 1857. Joly, Op.
cit. See also P. Stapfer, Shakespeare et l'Antiquité. 2 vols. Paris, 1880.
F. Michel in 1841. An edition of Artus was promised by M. Paulin Paris, but
interrupted or prevented by his death. The great works of Map, Lancelot and the
Quest, as well as the Mort Artus, have never been critically edited in full; and the
sixteenth-century editions being rare and exceedingly costly, as well as
uncritical, they are not easily accessible, except in M. Paris' Abstract and
Commentary, Les Romans de la Table Ronde, 5 vols., 1869-1877. Tristan was
published partially forty years ago by M. F. Michel. Merlin was edited in 1886
by M. G. Paris and M. Ulrich. A complete edition of Chrestien de Troyes has
been undertaken by Dr. Wendelin Förster and has preceded to its second volume
(Yvain). This under its second title of Le Chevalier au Lyon has also been edited
by Dr. Holland (third edition 1886). Besides this there is the great Romance of
Percevale (continued by others, especially a certain Manessier), of which M.
Potvin has given an excellent edition, 6 vols., Mons, 1867-1872, including in it a
previously unknown prose version of the Romance of very early date; Le
Chevalier à la Charrette, continued by Godefroy de Lagny, and edited, with the
original prose from Lancelot du Lac, by Dr. Jonckbloet (The Hague, 1850); and
Erec et Énide, by M. Haupt (Berlin, 1860). This piecemeal condition of the texts,
and the practical inaccessibility of many of them, make independent judgment in
the matter very difficult. What is wanted first of all is a book on the plan of M.
Léon Gautier's Epopées Françaises, giving a complete account of all the existing
texts—for the entire editing of these latter must necessarily take a very long
time. The statements made above represent the opinions which appear most
probable to the writer, not merely from the comparison of authorities on the
subject, but from the actual study of the texts as far as they are open to him. (See
note at end of Chapter.)
[55] This expression occurs in the Chanson des Saisnes, i. 6. 7: 'Ne sont que iij
matières a nul home atandant, De France et de Bretaigne et de Rome la grant.'
[56] Ed. Michelant. Stuttgart, 1846.
[57] Li Cors, otherwise li tors 'the crooked.' Since this book was first written M.
Paul Meyer has treated the whole subject of the paragraph in an admirable
monograph, Alexandre le Grand dans la Littérature Française du Moyen Age, 2
vols. Paris, 1886.
[58] Ed. Joly. Rouen, 1870.
[59] Moland and Héricault's Nouvelles du XIVème Siècle. Paris, 1857. Joly, Op.
cit. See also P. Stapfer, Shakespeare et l'Antiquité. 2 vols. Paris, 1880.
Page 74
CHAPTER V.
FABLIAUX. THE ROMAN DU RENART.
Singular as the statement may appear, no one of the
branches of literature hitherto discussed represents what Foreign Elements in
Early French
may be called a specially French spirit. Despite the Literature.
astonishing popularity and extent of the Chansons de
Gestes, they are, as is admitted by the most patriotic French students,
Teutonic in origin probably, and certainly in genius. The Arthurian legends
have at least a tinge both of Celtic and Oriental character; while the greater
number of them were probably written by Englishmen, and their
distinguishing spirit is pretty clearly Anglo-Norman rather than French. On
the other hand, Provençal poetry represents a temperament and a disposition
which find their full development rather in Spanish and Italian literature and
character than in the literature and character of France. All these divisions,
moreover, have this of artificial about them, that they are obviously class
literature—the literature of courtly and knightly society, not that of the
nation at large. Provençal literature gives but scanty social information;
from the earlier Chansons at least it would be hard to tell that there were
any classes but those of nobles, priests, and fighting men; and though, as
has been said, a more complicated state of society appears in the Arthurian
legends, what may be called their atmosphere is even more artificial.
It is far otherwise with the division of literature which
we are now about to handle. The Fabliaux[60], or short The Esprit Gaulois
makes its
verse tales of old France, take in the whole of its society appearance.
from king to peasant with all the intervening classes, and
represent for the most part the view taken of those classes by each other.
Perhaps the bourgeois standpoint is most prominent in them, but it is by no
means the only one. Their tone too is of the kind which has ever since been
specially associated with the French genius. What is called by French
authors the esprit gaulois—a spirit of mischievous and free-spoken
jocularity—does not make its appearance at once, or in all kinds of work. In
FABLIAUX. THE ROMAN DU RENART.
Singular as the statement may appear, no one of the
branches of literature hitherto discussed represents what Foreign Elements in
Early French
may be called a specially French spirit. Despite the Literature.
astonishing popularity and extent of the Chansons de
Gestes, they are, as is admitted by the most patriotic French students,
Teutonic in origin probably, and certainly in genius. The Arthurian legends
have at least a tinge both of Celtic and Oriental character; while the greater
number of them were probably written by Englishmen, and their
distinguishing spirit is pretty clearly Anglo-Norman rather than French. On
the other hand, Provençal poetry represents a temperament and a disposition
which find their full development rather in Spanish and Italian literature and
character than in the literature and character of France. All these divisions,
moreover, have this of artificial about them, that they are obviously class
literature—the literature of courtly and knightly society, not that of the
nation at large. Provençal literature gives but scanty social information;
from the earlier Chansons at least it would be hard to tell that there were
any classes but those of nobles, priests, and fighting men; and though, as
has been said, a more complicated state of society appears in the Arthurian
legends, what may be called their atmosphere is even more artificial.
It is far otherwise with the division of literature which
we are now about to handle. The Fabliaux[60], or short The Esprit Gaulois
makes its
verse tales of old France, take in the whole of its society appearance.
from king to peasant with all the intervening classes, and
represent for the most part the view taken of those classes by each other.
Perhaps the bourgeois standpoint is most prominent in them, but it is by no
means the only one. Their tone too is of the kind which has ever since been
specially associated with the French genius. What is called by French
authors the esprit gaulois—a spirit of mischievous and free-spoken
jocularity—does not make its appearance at once, or in all kinds of work. In
Page 75
most of the early departments of French literature there is a remarkable
deficiency of the comic element, or rather that element is very much kept
under. The comedy of the Chansons consists almost entirely in the roughest
horse-play; while the knightly notion of gabz or jests is exemplified in the
Voyage de Charlemagne à Constantinople, where it seems to be limited to
extravagant, and not always decent, boasts and gasconnades. More comic,
but still farcical in its comedy, is the curious running fire of exaggerated
expressions of poltroonery which the Red Lion keeps up in Antioche, while
the names and virtues of the Christian leaders are being catalogued to
Corbaran. In the Arthurian Romances also the comic element is scantily
represented, and still takes the same form of exaggeration and horse-play.
At the same time it is proper to say that both these classes of compositions
are distinguished, at least in their earlier examples, by a very strict and
remarkable decency of language.
In the Fabliaux the state of things is quite different. The attitude is always a
mocking one, not often going the length of serious satire or moral
indignation, but contenting itself with the peculiar ludicrous presentation of
life and humanity of which the French have ever since been the masters. In
the Fabliaux begins that long course of scoffing at the weaknesses of the
feminine sex which has never been interrupted since. In the Fabliaux is to
be found for the first time satirical delineation of the frailties of churchmen
instead of adoring celebration of the mysteries of the Church. All classes
come in by turns for ridicule—knights, burghers, peasants. Unfortunately
this freedom in choice of subject is accompanied by a still greater freedom
in the choice of language. The coarseness of expression in many of the
Fabliaux equals, if it does not exceed, that to be found in any other branch
of Western literature.
The interest of the Fabliaux as a literary study is
increased by the precision with which they can be Definition of
defined, and the well-marked period of their Fabliaux.
composition. According to the excellent definition of its latest editor, the
Fabliau[61] is 'le récit, le plus souvent comique, d'une aventure réelle ou
possible, qui se passe dans les données moyennes de la vie humaine,' the
recital, for the most part comic, of a real or possible event occurring in the
ordinary conditions of human life. M. de Montaiglon, to be rigidly accurate,
should have added that it must be in verse, and, with very rare, if any,
deficiency of the comic element, or rather that element is very much kept
under. The comedy of the Chansons consists almost entirely in the roughest
horse-play; while the knightly notion of gabz or jests is exemplified in the
Voyage de Charlemagne à Constantinople, where it seems to be limited to
extravagant, and not always decent, boasts and gasconnades. More comic,
but still farcical in its comedy, is the curious running fire of exaggerated
expressions of poltroonery which the Red Lion keeps up in Antioche, while
the names and virtues of the Christian leaders are being catalogued to
Corbaran. In the Arthurian Romances also the comic element is scantily
represented, and still takes the same form of exaggeration and horse-play.
At the same time it is proper to say that both these classes of compositions
are distinguished, at least in their earlier examples, by a very strict and
remarkable decency of language.
In the Fabliaux the state of things is quite different. The attitude is always a
mocking one, not often going the length of serious satire or moral
indignation, but contenting itself with the peculiar ludicrous presentation of
life and humanity of which the French have ever since been the masters. In
the Fabliaux begins that long course of scoffing at the weaknesses of the
feminine sex which has never been interrupted since. In the Fabliaux is to
be found for the first time satirical delineation of the frailties of churchmen
instead of adoring celebration of the mysteries of the Church. All classes
come in by turns for ridicule—knights, burghers, peasants. Unfortunately
this freedom in choice of subject is accompanied by a still greater freedom
in the choice of language. The coarseness of expression in many of the
Fabliaux equals, if it does not exceed, that to be found in any other branch
of Western literature.
The interest of the Fabliaux as a literary study is
increased by the precision with which they can be Definition of
defined, and the well-marked period of their Fabliaux.
composition. According to the excellent definition of its latest editor, the
Fabliau[61] is 'le récit, le plus souvent comique, d'une aventure réelle ou
possible, qui se passe dans les données moyennes de la vie humaine,' the
recital, for the most part comic, of a real or possible event occurring in the
ordinary conditions of human life. M. de Montaiglon, to be rigidly accurate,
should have added that it must be in verse, and, with very rare, if any,
Page 76
exceptions, in octosyllabic couplets. Of such Fabliaux, properly so called,
we possess perhaps two hundred. They are of the most various length,
sometimes not extending to more than a score or so of lines, sometimes
containing several hundreds. They are, like most contemporary literature,
chiefly anonymous, or attributed to persons of whom nothing is known,
though some famous names, especially that of the Trouvère Rutebœuf,
appear among their authors. Their period of composition seems to have
extended from the latter half of the twelfth century to the latter half of the
fourteenth, no manuscript that we have of them being earlier than the
beginning of the thirteenth century, and none later than the beginning of the
fifteenth. If, however, their popularity in their original form ceased at the
latter period, their course was by no means run. They had passed early from
France into Italy (as indeed all the oldest French literature did), and the
stock-in-trade of all the Italian Novellieri from Boccaccio downwards was
supplied by them. In England they found an illustrious copyist in Chaucer,
whose Canterbury Tales are perfect Fabliaux, informed by greater art and
more poetical spirit than were possessed by their original authors. In France
itself the Fabliaux simply became farces or prose tales, as the wandering
reciter of verse gave way to the actor and the bookseller. They appear again
(sometimes after a roundabout journey through Italian versions) in the
pages of the French tale-tellers of the Renaissance, and finally, as far as
collected appearance is concerned, receive their last but not their least
brilliant transformation in the Contes of La Fontaine. In these the cycle is
curiously concluded by a return to the form of the original.
Until MM. de Montaiglon and Raynaud undertook their
edition, which has been slowly completed, the study of Subjects and
the Fabliaux was complicated by the somewhat chaotic character
Fabliaux.
of
conditions of the earlier collections. Barbazan and his
followers printed as Fabliaux almost everything that they found in verse
which was tolerably short. Thus, not merely the mediaeval poems called
dits and débats, descriptions of objects either in monologue or dialogue,
which come sometimes very close to the Fabliau proper, but moral
discourses, short romances, legends like the Lai d'Aristote, and such-like
things, were included. This interferes with a comprehension of the
remarkably characteristic and clearly marked peculiarities of the Fabliau
indicated in the definition given above. As according to this the Fabliau is a
we possess perhaps two hundred. They are of the most various length,
sometimes not extending to more than a score or so of lines, sometimes
containing several hundreds. They are, like most contemporary literature,
chiefly anonymous, or attributed to persons of whom nothing is known,
though some famous names, especially that of the Trouvère Rutebœuf,
appear among their authors. Their period of composition seems to have
extended from the latter half of the twelfth century to the latter half of the
fourteenth, no manuscript that we have of them being earlier than the
beginning of the thirteenth century, and none later than the beginning of the
fifteenth. If, however, their popularity in their original form ceased at the
latter period, their course was by no means run. They had passed early from
France into Italy (as indeed all the oldest French literature did), and the
stock-in-trade of all the Italian Novellieri from Boccaccio downwards was
supplied by them. In England they found an illustrious copyist in Chaucer,
whose Canterbury Tales are perfect Fabliaux, informed by greater art and
more poetical spirit than were possessed by their original authors. In France
itself the Fabliaux simply became farces or prose tales, as the wandering
reciter of verse gave way to the actor and the bookseller. They appear again
(sometimes after a roundabout journey through Italian versions) in the
pages of the French tale-tellers of the Renaissance, and finally, as far as
collected appearance is concerned, receive their last but not their least
brilliant transformation in the Contes of La Fontaine. In these the cycle is
curiously concluded by a return to the form of the original.
Until MM. de Montaiglon and Raynaud undertook their
edition, which has been slowly completed, the study of Subjects and
the Fabliaux was complicated by the somewhat chaotic character
Fabliaux.
of
conditions of the earlier collections. Barbazan and his
followers printed as Fabliaux almost everything that they found in verse
which was tolerably short. Thus, not merely the mediaeval poems called
dits and débats, descriptions of objects either in monologue or dialogue,
which come sometimes very close to the Fabliau proper, but moral
discourses, short romances, legends like the Lai d'Aristote, and such-like
things, were included. This interferes with a comprehension of the
remarkably characteristic and clearly marked peculiarities of the Fabliau
indicated in the definition given above. As according to this the Fabliau is a
Page 77
short comic verse tale of ordinary life, it will be evident that the attempts
which have been made to classify Fabliaux according to their subjects were
not very happy. It is of course possible to take such headings as Priests,
Women, Villeins, Knights, etc., and arrange the existing Fabliaux under
them. But it is not obvious what is gained thereby. A better notion of the
genre may perhaps be obtained from a short view of the subjects of some of
the principal of those Fabliaux whose subjects are capable of description.
Les deux Bordeors Ribaux is a dispute between two Jongleurs who boast
their skill. It is remarkable for a very curious list of Chansons de Gestes
which the clumsy reciter quotes all wrong, and for a great number of the sly
hits at chivalry and the chivalrous romances which are characteristic of all
this literature. Thus one Jongleur, going through the list of his knightly
patrons, tells of Monseignor Augier Poupée—
'Qui à un seul coup de s'espee
Coupe bien à un chat l'oreille;'
and of Monseignor Rogier Ertaut, whose soundness in wind and limb is not
due to enchanted armour or skill in fight, but is accounted for thus—
'Quar onques ne ot cop feru' (for that never has he struck a
blow).
Le Vair Palefroi contains the story of a lover who carries off his beloved on
a palfrey grey from an aged wooer. La Housse Partie, a great favourite,
which appears in more than one form, tells the tale of an unnatural son who
turns his father out of doors, but is brought to a better mind by his own
child, who innocently gives him warning that he in turn will copy his
example. Sire Hain et Dame Anieuse is one of the innumerable stories of
rough correction of scolding wives. Brunain la Vache au Prestre recounts a
trick played on a covetous priest. In Le Dit des Perdrix, a greedy wife eats a
brace of partridges which her husband has destined for his own dinner, and
escapes his wrath by one of the endless stratagems which these tales delight
in assigning to womankind. Le sot Chevalier, though extremely indecorous,
deserves notice for the Chaucerian breadth of its farce, at which it is
impossible to help laughing. The two Englishmen and the Lamb is perhaps
the earliest example of English-French, and turns upon the mistake which
results in an ass's foal being bought instead of the required animal. Le
which have been made to classify Fabliaux according to their subjects were
not very happy. It is of course possible to take such headings as Priests,
Women, Villeins, Knights, etc., and arrange the existing Fabliaux under
them. But it is not obvious what is gained thereby. A better notion of the
genre may perhaps be obtained from a short view of the subjects of some of
the principal of those Fabliaux whose subjects are capable of description.
Les deux Bordeors Ribaux is a dispute between two Jongleurs who boast
their skill. It is remarkable for a very curious list of Chansons de Gestes
which the clumsy reciter quotes all wrong, and for a great number of the sly
hits at chivalry and the chivalrous romances which are characteristic of all
this literature. Thus one Jongleur, going through the list of his knightly
patrons, tells of Monseignor Augier Poupée—
'Qui à un seul coup de s'espee
Coupe bien à un chat l'oreille;'
and of Monseignor Rogier Ertaut, whose soundness in wind and limb is not
due to enchanted armour or skill in fight, but is accounted for thus—
'Quar onques ne ot cop feru' (for that never has he struck a
blow).
Le Vair Palefroi contains the story of a lover who carries off his beloved on
a palfrey grey from an aged wooer. La Housse Partie, a great favourite,
which appears in more than one form, tells the tale of an unnatural son who
turns his father out of doors, but is brought to a better mind by his own
child, who innocently gives him warning that he in turn will copy his
example. Sire Hain et Dame Anieuse is one of the innumerable stories of
rough correction of scolding wives. Brunain la Vache au Prestre recounts a
trick played on a covetous priest. In Le Dit des Perdrix, a greedy wife eats a
brace of partridges which her husband has destined for his own dinner, and
escapes his wrath by one of the endless stratagems which these tales delight
in assigning to womankind. Le sot Chevalier, though extremely indecorous,
deserves notice for the Chaucerian breadth of its farce, at which it is
impossible to help laughing. The two Englishmen and the Lamb is perhaps
the earliest example of English-French, and turns upon the mistake which
results in an ass's foal being bought instead of the required animal. Le
Page 78
Mantel Mautaillié is the famous Arthurian story known in English as 'The
Boy and the Mantle.' Le Vilain Mire is the original of Molière's Médecin
malgré lui. Le Vilain qui conquist Paradis par Plaist is characteristic of the
curious irreverence which accompanied mediaeval devotion. A villein
comes to heaven's gate, is refused admission, and successively silences St.
Peter, St. Thomas, and St. Paul, by very pointed references to their earthly
weaknesses. As a last specimen may be mentioned the curiously simple
word-play of Estula. This is the name of a little dog which, being
pronounced, certain thieves take for 'Es tu là?'
Such are a very few, selected as well as may be for their
typical character, of these stories. It is not unimportant to Sources of
consider briefly the question of their origin. Many of Fabliaux.
them belong no doubt to that strange common fund of fiction which all
nations of the earth indiscriminately possess. A considerable number seem
to be of purely original and indigenous growth: but an actual literary source
is not wanting in many cases. The classics supplied some part of them, the
Scriptures and the lives of the saints another part; while not a little was due
to the importation of Eastern collections of stories resulting from the
Crusades. The chief of these collections were the fables of Bidpai or Pilpai,
in the form known as the romance of 'Calila and Dimna,' and the story of
Sendabar (in its Greek form Syntipas). This was immensely popular in
France under the verse form of Dolopathos, and the prose form of Les sept
Sages de Rome. The remarkable collection of stories called the Gesta
Romanorum is apparently of later date than most of the Fabliaux; but the
tales of which it was composed no doubt floated for some time in the
mouths of Jongleurs before the unknown and probably English author put
them together in Latin.
Closely connected with the Fabliaux is one of the most
singular works of mediaeval imagination, the Roman du The Roman du
Renart.
Renart[62]. This is no place to examine the origin or
antiquity of the custom of making animals the mouthpieces of moral and
satirical utterance on human affairs. It is sufficient that the practice is an
ancient one, and that the middle ages were early acquainted with Aesop and
his followers, as well as with Oriental examples of the same sort. The
original author, whoever he was, of the epic (for it is no less) of 'Reynard
the Fox,' had therefore examples of a certain sort before his eyes. But these
Boy and the Mantle.' Le Vilain Mire is the original of Molière's Médecin
malgré lui. Le Vilain qui conquist Paradis par Plaist is characteristic of the
curious irreverence which accompanied mediaeval devotion. A villein
comes to heaven's gate, is refused admission, and successively silences St.
Peter, St. Thomas, and St. Paul, by very pointed references to their earthly
weaknesses. As a last specimen may be mentioned the curiously simple
word-play of Estula. This is the name of a little dog which, being
pronounced, certain thieves take for 'Es tu là?'
Such are a very few, selected as well as may be for their
typical character, of these stories. It is not unimportant to Sources of
consider briefly the question of their origin. Many of Fabliaux.
them belong no doubt to that strange common fund of fiction which all
nations of the earth indiscriminately possess. A considerable number seem
to be of purely original and indigenous growth: but an actual literary source
is not wanting in many cases. The classics supplied some part of them, the
Scriptures and the lives of the saints another part; while not a little was due
to the importation of Eastern collections of stories resulting from the
Crusades. The chief of these collections were the fables of Bidpai or Pilpai,
in the form known as the romance of 'Calila and Dimna,' and the story of
Sendabar (in its Greek form Syntipas). This was immensely popular in
France under the verse form of Dolopathos, and the prose form of Les sept
Sages de Rome. The remarkable collection of stories called the Gesta
Romanorum is apparently of later date than most of the Fabliaux; but the
tales of which it was composed no doubt floated for some time in the
mouths of Jongleurs before the unknown and probably English author put
them together in Latin.
Closely connected with the Fabliaux is one of the most
singular works of mediaeval imagination, the Roman du The Roman du
Renart.
Renart[62]. This is no place to examine the origin or
antiquity of the custom of making animals the mouthpieces of moral and
satirical utterance on human affairs. It is sufficient that the practice is an
ancient one, and that the middle ages were early acquainted with Aesop and
his followers, as well as with Oriental examples of the same sort. The
original author, whoever he was, of the epic (for it is no less) of 'Reynard
the Fox,' had therefore examples of a certain sort before his eyes. But these
Page 79
examples contented themselves for the most part with work of small
dimension, and had not attempted connected or continuous story. A fierce
battle has been fought as to the nationality of Reynard. The facts are these.
The oldest form of the story now extant is in Latin. It is succeeded at no
very great interval by German, Flemish, and French versions. Of these the
German as it stands is apparently the oldest, the Latin version being
probably of the second half of the twelfth century, and the German a little
later. But (and this is a capital point) the names of the more important beasts
are in all the versions French. From this and some minute local indications,
it seems likely that the original language of the epic is French, but French of
the Walloon or Picard dialect, and that it was written somewhere in the
district between the Seine and the Rhine. This, however, is a matter of the
very smallest literary importance. What is of great literary importance is the
fact that it is in France that the story receives its principal development, and
that it makes its home. The Latin, Flemish, and German Reynards, though
they all cover nearly the same ground, do not together amount to more than
five-and-twenty thousand lines. The French in its successive developments
amounts to more than ninety thousand in the texts already published or
abstracted; and this does not include the variants in the Vienna manuscript
of Renart le Contrefait, or the different developments of the Ancien Renart,
recently published by M. Ernest Martin.
The order and history of the building up of this vast
composition are as follows. The oldest known 'branches,' The Ancien Renart.
as the separate portions of the story are called, date from
the beginning of the thirteenth century. These are due to a named author,
Pierre de Saint Cloud. But it is impossible to say that they were actually the
first written in French: indeed it is extremely improbable that they were so.
However this may be, during the thirteenth century a very large number of
poets wrote pieces independent of each other in composition, but possessing
the same general design, and putting the same personages into play. In what
has hitherto been the standard edition of Renart, Méon published thirty-two
such poems, amounting in the aggregate to more than thirty thousand
verses. Chabaille added five more in his supplement, and M. Ernest Martin
has found yet another in an Italianised version. This last editor thinks that
eleven branches, which he has printed together, constitute an 'ancient
collection' within the Ancien Renart, and have a certain connection and
dimension, and had not attempted connected or continuous story. A fierce
battle has been fought as to the nationality of Reynard. The facts are these.
The oldest form of the story now extant is in Latin. It is succeeded at no
very great interval by German, Flemish, and French versions. Of these the
German as it stands is apparently the oldest, the Latin version being
probably of the second half of the twelfth century, and the German a little
later. But (and this is a capital point) the names of the more important beasts
are in all the versions French. From this and some minute local indications,
it seems likely that the original language of the epic is French, but French of
the Walloon or Picard dialect, and that it was written somewhere in the
district between the Seine and the Rhine. This, however, is a matter of the
very smallest literary importance. What is of great literary importance is the
fact that it is in France that the story receives its principal development, and
that it makes its home. The Latin, Flemish, and German Reynards, though
they all cover nearly the same ground, do not together amount to more than
five-and-twenty thousand lines. The French in its successive developments
amounts to more than ninety thousand in the texts already published or
abstracted; and this does not include the variants in the Vienna manuscript
of Renart le Contrefait, or the different developments of the Ancien Renart,
recently published by M. Ernest Martin.
The order and history of the building up of this vast
composition are as follows. The oldest known 'branches,' The Ancien Renart.
as the separate portions of the story are called, date from
the beginning of the thirteenth century. These are due to a named author,
Pierre de Saint Cloud. But it is impossible to say that they were actually the
first written in French: indeed it is extremely improbable that they were so.
However this may be, during the thirteenth century a very large number of
poets wrote pieces independent of each other in composition, but possessing
the same general design, and putting the same personages into play. In what
has hitherto been the standard edition of Renart, Méon published thirty-two
such poems, amounting in the aggregate to more than thirty thousand
verses. Chabaille added five more in his supplement, and M. Ernest Martin
has found yet another in an Italianised version. This last editor thinks that
eleven branches, which he has printed together, constitute an 'ancient
collection' within the Ancien Renart, and have a certain connection and
Page 80
interdependence. However this may be, the general plan is extremely loose,
or rather non-existent. Everybody knows the outline of the story of
Reynard; how he is among the animals (Noble the lion, who is king,
Chanticleer the cock, Firapel the leopard, Grimbart the badger, Isengrin the
wolf, and the rest) the special representative of cunning and valour
tempered by discretion, while his enemy Isengrin is in the same way the
type of stupid headlong force, and many of the others have moral character
less strongly marked but tolerably well sustained. How this general idea is
illustrated the titles of the branches show better than the most elaborate
description. 'How Reynard ate the carrier's fish;' 'how Reynard made
Isengrin fish for eels;' 'how Reynard cut the tail of Tybert the cat;' 'how
Reynard made Isengrin go down the well;' 'of Isengrin and the mare;' 'how
Reynard and Tybert sang vespers and matins;' 'the pilgrimage of Reynard,'
and so forth. Written by different persons, and at different times, these
branches are of course by no means uniform in literary value. But the
uniformity of spirit in most, if not in all of them, is extremely remarkable.
What is most noticeable in this spirit is the perpetual undertone of satirical
comment on human life and its affairs which distinguishes it. The moral is
never obtrusively put forward, and it is especially noteworthy that in this
Ancien Renart, as contrasted with the later development of the poem, there
is no mere allegorising, and no attempt to make the animals men in
disguise. They are quite natural and distinct foxes, wolves, cats, and so
forth, acting after their kind, with the exception of their possession of
reason and language.
The next stage of the composition shows an alteration
and a degradation. Renart le Couronné, or Le Le Couronnement
Renart.
Couronnement Renart[63], is a poem of some 3400 lines,
which was once attributed to Marie de France, for no other reason than that
the manuscript which contains it subjoins her Ysopet or fables. It is,
however, certainly not hers, and is in all probability a little later than her
time. The main subject of it is the cunning of the fox, who first reconciles
the great preaching orders Franciscans and Dominicans; then himself
becomes a monk, and inculcates on them the art of Renardie; then repairs to
court as a confessor to the lion king Noble who is ill, and contrives to be
appointed his successor, after which he holds tournaments, journeys to
Palestine, and so forth. It is characteristic of the decline of taste that in the
or rather non-existent. Everybody knows the outline of the story of
Reynard; how he is among the animals (Noble the lion, who is king,
Chanticleer the cock, Firapel the leopard, Grimbart the badger, Isengrin the
wolf, and the rest) the special representative of cunning and valour
tempered by discretion, while his enemy Isengrin is in the same way the
type of stupid headlong force, and many of the others have moral character
less strongly marked but tolerably well sustained. How this general idea is
illustrated the titles of the branches show better than the most elaborate
description. 'How Reynard ate the carrier's fish;' 'how Reynard made
Isengrin fish for eels;' 'how Reynard cut the tail of Tybert the cat;' 'how
Reynard made Isengrin go down the well;' 'of Isengrin and the mare;' 'how
Reynard and Tybert sang vespers and matins;' 'the pilgrimage of Reynard,'
and so forth. Written by different persons, and at different times, these
branches are of course by no means uniform in literary value. But the
uniformity of spirit in most, if not in all of them, is extremely remarkable.
What is most noticeable in this spirit is the perpetual undertone of satirical
comment on human life and its affairs which distinguishes it. The moral is
never obtrusively put forward, and it is especially noteworthy that in this
Ancien Renart, as contrasted with the later development of the poem, there
is no mere allegorising, and no attempt to make the animals men in
disguise. They are quite natural and distinct foxes, wolves, cats, and so
forth, acting after their kind, with the exception of their possession of
reason and language.
The next stage of the composition shows an alteration
and a degradation. Renart le Couronné, or Le Le Couronnement
Renart.
Couronnement Renart[63], is a poem of some 3400 lines,
which was once attributed to Marie de France, for no other reason than that
the manuscript which contains it subjoins her Ysopet or fables. It is,
however, certainly not hers, and is in all probability a little later than her
time. The main subject of it is the cunning of the fox, who first reconciles
the great preaching orders Franciscans and Dominicans; then himself
becomes a monk, and inculcates on them the art of Renardie; then repairs to
court as a confessor to the lion king Noble who is ill, and contrives to be
appointed his successor, after which he holds tournaments, journeys to
Palestine, and so forth. It is characteristic of the decline of taste that in the
Page 81
list of his army a whole bestiary (or list of the real and fictitious beasts of
mediaeval zoology) is thrust in; and the very introduction of the abstract
term Renardie, or foxiness, is an evil sign of the abstracting and allegorising
which was about to spoil poetry for a time, and to make much of the
literature of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries tedious and heavy. The
poem is of little value or interest. The only chronological indication as to its
composition is the eulogy of William of Flanders, killed ('jadis,' says the
author) in 1251.
The next poem of the cycle is of much greater length,
and of at least proportionately greater value, though it Renart le Nouvel.
has not the freshness and verve of the earlier branches.
Renart le Nouvel was written in 1288 by Jacquemart Giélée, a Fleming.
This poem is in many ways interesting, though not much can be said for its
general conception, and though it suffers terribly from the allegorising
already alluded to. In its first book (it consists of more than 8000 lines,
divided into two books and many branches) Renart, in consequence of one
of his usual quarrels with Isengrin, gets into trouble with the king, and is
besieged in Maupertuis. But the sense of verisimilitude is now so far lost,
that Maupertuis, instead of being a fox's earth, is an actual feudal castle; and
more than this, the animals which attack and defend it are armed in panoply,
ride horses, and fight like knights of the period. Besides this the old familiar
and homely personages are mixed up with a very strange set of abstractions
in the shape of the seven deadly sins. All this is curiously blended with
reminiscences and rehandlings of the older and simpler adventures. Another
remarkable feature about Renart le Nouvel is that it is full of songs, chiefly
love songs, which are given with the music. Its descriptions, though prolix,
and injured by allegorical phrases, are sometimes vigorous.
The cycle was finally completed in the second quarter of
the fourteenth century by the singular work or works Renart le
Contrefait.
called Renart le Contrefait. This has, unfortunately,
never been printed in full, nor in any but the most meagre extracts and
abstracts. Its length is enormous; though, in the absence of opportunity for
examining it, it is not easy to tell how much is common to the three
manuscripts which contain it. Two of these are in Paris and one in Vienna,
the latter being apparently identical with one which Ménage saw and read
in the seventeenth century. One of the Parisian manuscripts contains about
mediaeval zoology) is thrust in; and the very introduction of the abstract
term Renardie, or foxiness, is an evil sign of the abstracting and allegorising
which was about to spoil poetry for a time, and to make much of the
literature of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries tedious and heavy. The
poem is of little value or interest. The only chronological indication as to its
composition is the eulogy of William of Flanders, killed ('jadis,' says the
author) in 1251.
The next poem of the cycle is of much greater length,
and of at least proportionately greater value, though it Renart le Nouvel.
has not the freshness and verve of the earlier branches.
Renart le Nouvel was written in 1288 by Jacquemart Giélée, a Fleming.
This poem is in many ways interesting, though not much can be said for its
general conception, and though it suffers terribly from the allegorising
already alluded to. In its first book (it consists of more than 8000 lines,
divided into two books and many branches) Renart, in consequence of one
of his usual quarrels with Isengrin, gets into trouble with the king, and is
besieged in Maupertuis. But the sense of verisimilitude is now so far lost,
that Maupertuis, instead of being a fox's earth, is an actual feudal castle; and
more than this, the animals which attack and defend it are armed in panoply,
ride horses, and fight like knights of the period. Besides this the old familiar
and homely personages are mixed up with a very strange set of abstractions
in the shape of the seven deadly sins. All this is curiously blended with
reminiscences and rehandlings of the older and simpler adventures. Another
remarkable feature about Renart le Nouvel is that it is full of songs, chiefly
love songs, which are given with the music. Its descriptions, though prolix,
and injured by allegorical phrases, are sometimes vigorous.
The cycle was finally completed in the second quarter of
the fourteenth century by the singular work or works Renart le
Contrefait.
called Renart le Contrefait. This has, unfortunately,
never been printed in full, nor in any but the most meagre extracts and
abstracts. Its length is enormous; though, in the absence of opportunity for
examining it, it is not easy to tell how much is common to the three
manuscripts which contain it. Two of these are in Paris and one in Vienna,
the latter being apparently identical with one which Ménage saw and read
in the seventeenth century. One of the Parisian manuscripts contains about
Page 82
32,000 verses, the other about 19,000; and the Vienna version seems to
consist of from 20,000 to 25,000 lines of verse, and about half that number
of prose. The author (who, in so far as he was a single person, appears to
have been a clerk of Troyes, in Champagne) wrote it, as he says, to avoid
idleness, and seems to have regarded it as a vast commonplace book, in
which to insert the result not merely of his satirical reflection, but of his
miscellaneous reading. A noteworthy point about this poem is that in one
place the writer expressly disowns any concealment of his satirical
intention. His book, he says, has nothing to do with the kind of fox that kills
pullets, has a big brush, and wears a red skin, but with the fox that has two
hands and, what is more, two faces under one hood[64]. Notwithstanding
this, however, there are many passages where the old 'common form' of the
epic is observed, and where the old personages make their appearance.
Indeed their former adventures are sometimes served up again with slight
alterations. Besides this there is a certain number of amusing stories and
fabliaux, the most frequently quoted of which is the tale of an ugly but wise
knight who married a silly but beautiful girl in hopes of having children
uniting the advantages of both parents, whereas the actual offspring of the
union were as ugly as the father and as silly as the mother. Combined with
these things are numerous allusions to the grievances of the peasants and
burghers of the time against the upper classes, with some striking legends
illustrative thereof, such as the story of a noble dame, who, hearing that a
vassal's wife had been buried in a large shroud of good stuff, had the body
taken up and seized the shroud to make horsecloths of. This original matter,
however, is drowned in a deluge not merely of moralising but of didactic
verse of all kinds. The history of Alexander is told in one version by
Reynard to the lion king in 7000 verses, and is preluded and followed by an
account of the history of the world on a scarcely smaller scale. This
proceeding, at least in the Vienna version, seems to be burdensome even to
Noble himself, who, at the reign of Augustus, suggests that Reynard should
exchange verse for prose, and 'compress.' The warning cannot be said to be
unnecessary: but works as long as Renart le Contrefait, and, as far as it is
possible to judge, not more interesting, have been printed of late years; and
it is very much to be wished that the publication of it might be undertaken
by some competent scholar.
consist of from 20,000 to 25,000 lines of verse, and about half that number
of prose. The author (who, in so far as he was a single person, appears to
have been a clerk of Troyes, in Champagne) wrote it, as he says, to avoid
idleness, and seems to have regarded it as a vast commonplace book, in
which to insert the result not merely of his satirical reflection, but of his
miscellaneous reading. A noteworthy point about this poem is that in one
place the writer expressly disowns any concealment of his satirical
intention. His book, he says, has nothing to do with the kind of fox that kills
pullets, has a big brush, and wears a red skin, but with the fox that has two
hands and, what is more, two faces under one hood[64]. Notwithstanding
this, however, there are many passages where the old 'common form' of the
epic is observed, and where the old personages make their appearance.
Indeed their former adventures are sometimes served up again with slight
alterations. Besides this there is a certain number of amusing stories and
fabliaux, the most frequently quoted of which is the tale of an ugly but wise
knight who married a silly but beautiful girl in hopes of having children
uniting the advantages of both parents, whereas the actual offspring of the
union were as ugly as the father and as silly as the mother. Combined with
these things are numerous allusions to the grievances of the peasants and
burghers of the time against the upper classes, with some striking legends
illustrative thereof, such as the story of a noble dame, who, hearing that a
vassal's wife had been buried in a large shroud of good stuff, had the body
taken up and seized the shroud to make horsecloths of. This original matter,
however, is drowned in a deluge not merely of moralising but of didactic
verse of all kinds. The history of Alexander is told in one version by
Reynard to the lion king in 7000 verses, and is preluded and followed by an
account of the history of the world on a scarcely smaller scale. This
proceeding, at least in the Vienna version, seems to be burdensome even to
Noble himself, who, at the reign of Augustus, suggests that Reynard should
exchange verse for prose, and 'compress.' The warning cannot be said to be
unnecessary: but works as long as Renart le Contrefait, and, as far as it is
possible to judge, not more interesting, have been printed of late years; and
it is very much to be wished that the publication of it might be undertaken
by some competent scholar.
Page 83
Renart is not the only bestial personage who was made
at this time a vehicle of satire. In the days of Philippe le Fauvel.
Bel a certain François de Rues composed a poem
entitled Fauvel, from the name of the hero, a kind of Centaur, who
represents vice of all kinds. The direct object of the poem was to attack the
pope and the clergy.
Some extracts from the Fabliau of the Partridges and from Renart may
appropriately now be given:—
Por ce que fabliaus dire sueil,
en lieu de fable dire vueil
une aventure qui est vraie,
d'un vilain qui delés sa haie
prist deus pertris par aventure.
en l'atorner mist moult sa cure;
sa fame les fist au feu metre.
ele s'en sot bien entremetre:
le feu a fait, la haste atorne.
et li vilains tantost s'en torne,
por le prestre s'en va corant.
mais au revenir targa tant
que cuites furent les pertris.
la dame a le haste jus mis,
s'en pinça une pelëure,
quar molt ama la lechëure,
quant diex li dona a avoir.
ne bëoit pas a grant avoir,
mais a tos ses bons acomplir.
l'une pertris cort envaïr:
andeus les eles en menjue.
puis est alee en mi la rue
savoir se ses sires venoit.
quant ele venir ne le voit,
tantost arriere s'en retorne,
et le remanant tel atorne
mal du morsel qui remainsist.
adonc s'apenssa et si dist
at this time a vehicle of satire. In the days of Philippe le Fauvel.
Bel a certain François de Rues composed a poem
entitled Fauvel, from the name of the hero, a kind of Centaur, who
represents vice of all kinds. The direct object of the poem was to attack the
pope and the clergy.
Some extracts from the Fabliau of the Partridges and from Renart may
appropriately now be given:—
Por ce que fabliaus dire sueil,
en lieu de fable dire vueil
une aventure qui est vraie,
d'un vilain qui delés sa haie
prist deus pertris par aventure.
en l'atorner mist moult sa cure;
sa fame les fist au feu metre.
ele s'en sot bien entremetre:
le feu a fait, la haste atorne.
et li vilains tantost s'en torne,
por le prestre s'en va corant.
mais au revenir targa tant
que cuites furent les pertris.
la dame a le haste jus mis,
s'en pinça une pelëure,
quar molt ama la lechëure,
quant diex li dona a avoir.
ne bëoit pas a grant avoir,
mais a tos ses bons acomplir.
l'une pertris cort envaïr:
andeus les eles en menjue.
puis est alee en mi la rue
savoir se ses sires venoit.
quant ele venir ne le voit,
tantost arriere s'en retorne,
et le remanant tel atorne
mal du morsel qui remainsist.
adonc s'apenssa et si dist
Page 84
que l'autre encore mengera.
moult tres bien set qu'ele dira,
s'on li demande que devindrent:
ele dira que li chat vindrent,
quant ele les ot arrier traites;
tost li orent des mains retraites,
et chascuns la seue en porta.
* * * * * *
Tant dura cele demoree
que la dame fu saoulee,
et li vilains ne targa mie:
a l'ostel vint, en haut s'escrie
'diva, sont cuites les pertris?'
'sire,' dist ele. 'ainçois va pis,
quar mengies les a li chas.'
li vilains saut isnel le pas,
seure li cort comme enragiés.
ja li ëust les iex sachiés,
quant el crie 'c'est gas, c'est gas.
fuiiés,' fet ele, 'Sathanas!
couvertes sont por tenir chaudes.'
(He accepts the excuse; bids her lay the table, and goes to sharpen his knife.
The priest arrives. She tells him that her husband is plotting outrage against
him, and as a proof shows him sharpening his knife. The priest flies, and
she tells her husband that he has run off with the partridges. The husband
pursues, but in vain, and the Fabliau thus concludes:—)
A l'ostel li vilains retorne,
et lors sa feme en araisone:
'diva,' fait il, 'et quar me dis
coment tu perdis les pertris?'
cele li dist 'se diex m'aït,
tantost que li prestres me vit,
si me prïa, se tant l'amasse,
que je les pertris li moustrasse,
moult tres bien set qu'ele dira,
s'on li demande que devindrent:
ele dira que li chat vindrent,
quant ele les ot arrier traites;
tost li orent des mains retraites,
et chascuns la seue en porta.
* * * * * *
Tant dura cele demoree
que la dame fu saoulee,
et li vilains ne targa mie:
a l'ostel vint, en haut s'escrie
'diva, sont cuites les pertris?'
'sire,' dist ele. 'ainçois va pis,
quar mengies les a li chas.'
li vilains saut isnel le pas,
seure li cort comme enragiés.
ja li ëust les iex sachiés,
quant el crie 'c'est gas, c'est gas.
fuiiés,' fet ele, 'Sathanas!
couvertes sont por tenir chaudes.'
(He accepts the excuse; bids her lay the table, and goes to sharpen his knife.
The priest arrives. She tells him that her husband is plotting outrage against
him, and as a proof shows him sharpening his knife. The priest flies, and
she tells her husband that he has run off with the partridges. The husband
pursues, but in vain, and the Fabliau thus concludes:—)
A l'ostel li vilains retorne,
et lors sa feme en araisone:
'diva,' fait il, 'et quar me dis
coment tu perdis les pertris?'
cele li dist 'se diex m'aït,
tantost que li prestres me vit,
si me prïa, se tant l'amasse,
que je les pertris li moustrasse,
Page 85
quar moult volentiers les verroit
et je le menai la tout droit
ou je les avoie couvertes.
il ot tantost les mains ouvertes,
si les prist et si s'en fuï.
mes je gueres ne le sivi,
ains le vous fis moult tost savoir.'
cil respont 'bien pués dire voir
or le laissons a itant estre.'
ainsi fu engingniés le prestre
et Gombaus qui les pertris prist.
par example cis fabliaus dist:
fame est faite por decevoir.
mençonge fait devenir voir
et voir fait devenir mençonge.
cil n'i vout metre plus d'alonge
qui fist cest fablel et ces dis.
ci faut li fabliaus des pertris.
(Reynard and Isengrin go a-fishing.)
Ce fu un poi devant Noël
que l'en metoit bacons en sel,
li ciex fu clers et estelez,
et li vivier fu si gelez,
ou Ysengrin devoit peschier,
qu'on pooit par desus treschier,
fors tant c'un pertuis i avoit,
qui des vilains faiz i estoit,
ou il menoient lor atoivre
chascune nuit juër et boivre:
un seel i estoit laissiez.
la vint Renarz toz eslaissiez
et son compere apela.
'sire,' fait il, 'traiiez vos ça:
ci est la plenté des poissons
et li engins ou nos peschons
les anguiles et les barbiaus
et je le menai la tout droit
ou je les avoie couvertes.
il ot tantost les mains ouvertes,
si les prist et si s'en fuï.
mes je gueres ne le sivi,
ains le vous fis moult tost savoir.'
cil respont 'bien pués dire voir
or le laissons a itant estre.'
ainsi fu engingniés le prestre
et Gombaus qui les pertris prist.
par example cis fabliaus dist:
fame est faite por decevoir.
mençonge fait devenir voir
et voir fait devenir mençonge.
cil n'i vout metre plus d'alonge
qui fist cest fablel et ces dis.
ci faut li fabliaus des pertris.
(Reynard and Isengrin go a-fishing.)
Ce fu un poi devant Noël
que l'en metoit bacons en sel,
li ciex fu clers et estelez,
et li vivier fu si gelez,
ou Ysengrin devoit peschier,
qu'on pooit par desus treschier,
fors tant c'un pertuis i avoit,
qui des vilains faiz i estoit,
ou il menoient lor atoivre
chascune nuit juër et boivre:
un seel i estoit laissiez.
la vint Renarz toz eslaissiez
et son compere apela.
'sire,' fait il, 'traiiez vos ça:
ci est la plenté des poissons
et li engins ou nos peschons
les anguiles et les barbiaus
Page 86
et autres poissons bons et biaus.'
dist Ysengrins 'sire Renart,
or le prenez de l'une part,
sel me laciez bien a la qeue.'
Renarz le prent et si li neue
entor la qeue au miex qu'il puet.
'frere,' fait il, 'or vos estuet
moult sagement a maintenir
por les poissons avant venir.'
lors s'est en un buisson fichiez:
si mist son groing entre ses piez
tant que il voie que il face.
et Ysengrins est seur la glace
et li sëaus en la fontaine
plains de glaçons a bone estraine.
l'aive conmence a englacier
et li sëaus a enlacier
qui a la qeue fu noëz:
de glaçons fu bien serondez.
la qeue est en l'aive gelee
et en la glace seelee.
This chapter would be incomplete without a reference to the Ysopet of
Marie de France[65], which may be said to be a link of juncture between the
Fabliau and the Roman du Renart. Ysopet (diminutive of Aesop) became a
common term in the middle ages for a collection of fables. There is one
known as the Ysopet of Lyons, which was published not long ago[66]; but
that of Marie is by far the most important. It consists of 103 pieces, written
in octosyllabic couplets, with moralities, and a conclusion which informs us
that the author wrote it 'for the love of Count William' (supposed to be
Long-Sword), translating it from an English version of a Latin translation of
the Greek. Marie's graceful style and her easy versification are very
noticeable here, while her morals are often well deduced and sharply put.
The famous 'Wolf and Lamb' will serve as a specimen.
Ce dist dou leu e dou aignel,
qui beveient a un rossel:
dist Ysengrins 'sire Renart,
or le prenez de l'une part,
sel me laciez bien a la qeue.'
Renarz le prent et si li neue
entor la qeue au miex qu'il puet.
'frere,' fait il, 'or vos estuet
moult sagement a maintenir
por les poissons avant venir.'
lors s'est en un buisson fichiez:
si mist son groing entre ses piez
tant que il voie que il face.
et Ysengrins est seur la glace
et li sëaus en la fontaine
plains de glaçons a bone estraine.
l'aive conmence a englacier
et li sëaus a enlacier
qui a la qeue fu noëz:
de glaçons fu bien serondez.
la qeue est en l'aive gelee
et en la glace seelee.
This chapter would be incomplete without a reference to the Ysopet of
Marie de France[65], which may be said to be a link of juncture between the
Fabliau and the Roman du Renart. Ysopet (diminutive of Aesop) became a
common term in the middle ages for a collection of fables. There is one
known as the Ysopet of Lyons, which was published not long ago[66]; but
that of Marie is by far the most important. It consists of 103 pieces, written
in octosyllabic couplets, with moralities, and a conclusion which informs us
that the author wrote it 'for the love of Count William' (supposed to be
Long-Sword), translating it from an English version of a Latin translation of
the Greek. Marie's graceful style and her easy versification are very
noticeable here, while her morals are often well deduced and sharply put.
The famous 'Wolf and Lamb' will serve as a specimen.
Ce dist dou leu e dou aignel,
qui beveient a un rossel:
Page 87
li lox a lo sorse beveit
e li aigniaus aval esteit.
irieement parla li lus
ki mult esteit cuntralïus;
par mautalent palla a lui:
'tu m'as,' dist il, 'fet grant anui.'
li aignez li ad respundu
'sire, eh quei?' 'dunc ne veis tu?
tu m'as ci ceste aigue tourblee:
n'en puis beivre ma saolee.
autresi m'en irai, ce crei,
cum jeo ving, tut murant de sei.'
li aignelez adunc respunt
'sire, ja bevez vus amunt:
de vus me vient kankes j'ai beu.'
'qoi,' fist li lox, 'maldis me tu?'
l'aigneus respunt 'n'en ai voleir.'
lous li dit 'jeo sai de veir:
ce meïsme me fist tes pere
a ceste surce u od lui ere,
or ad sis meis, si cum jeo crei.'
'qu'en retraiez,' feit il, 'sor mei?
n'ere pas nez, si cum jeo cuit.'
'e cei pur ce,' li lus a dit:
'ja me fais tu ore cuntraire
e chose ke tu ne deiz faire.'
dunc prist li lox l'engnel petit,
as denz l'estrangle, si l'ocit.
Moralité.
Ci funt li riche robëur,
li vesconte e li jugëur,
de ceus k'il unt en lur justise.
fausse aqoison par cuveitise
truevent assez pur eus cunfundre.
suvent les funt as plaiz semundre,
e li aigniaus aval esteit.
irieement parla li lus
ki mult esteit cuntralïus;
par mautalent palla a lui:
'tu m'as,' dist il, 'fet grant anui.'
li aignez li ad respundu
'sire, eh quei?' 'dunc ne veis tu?
tu m'as ci ceste aigue tourblee:
n'en puis beivre ma saolee.
autresi m'en irai, ce crei,
cum jeo ving, tut murant de sei.'
li aignelez adunc respunt
'sire, ja bevez vus amunt:
de vus me vient kankes j'ai beu.'
'qoi,' fist li lox, 'maldis me tu?'
l'aigneus respunt 'n'en ai voleir.'
lous li dit 'jeo sai de veir:
ce meïsme me fist tes pere
a ceste surce u od lui ere,
or ad sis meis, si cum jeo crei.'
'qu'en retraiez,' feit il, 'sor mei?
n'ere pas nez, si cum jeo cuit.'
'e cei pur ce,' li lus a dit:
'ja me fais tu ore cuntraire
e chose ke tu ne deiz faire.'
dunc prist li lox l'engnel petit,
as denz l'estrangle, si l'ocit.
Moralité.
Ci funt li riche robëur,
li vesconte e li jugëur,
de ceus k'il unt en lur justise.
fausse aqoison par cuveitise
truevent assez pur eus cunfundre.
suvent les funt as plaiz semundre,
Page 88
la char lur tolent e la pel,
si cum li lox fist a l'aingnel.
FOOTNOTES:
[60] The first collection of Fabliaux was published by Barbazan in 1756. This
was re-edited by Méon in 1808, and reinforced by the same author with a fresh
collection in 1823. Meanwhile Le Grand d'Aussy had (1774-1781) given
extracts, abstracts, and translations into modern French of many of them.
Jubinal, Robert, and others enriched the collection further, and in vol. xxiii. of
the Histoire Littéraire M. V. Le Clerc published an excellent study of the subject.
A complete collection of Fabliaux has, however, only recently been attempted,
by M. M. A. de Montaiglon and G. Raynaud (6 vols., Paris, 1872-1888).
[61] Fabliau is, of course, the Latin fabula. The genealogy of the word is fabula,
fabella, fabel, fable, fablel, fableau, fabliau. All these last five forms exist.
[62] It should be noticed that this title, though consecrated by usage, is a
misnomer. It should be Roman de Renart, for this latter is a proper name. The
class name is goupil (vulpes). The standard edition is that of Méon (4 vols.,
Paris, 1826) with the supplement of Chabaille, 1835. This includes not merely
the Ancien Renart, but the Couronnement and Renart le Nouvel. Renart le
Contrefait has never been printed. Rothe (Paris, 1845) and Wolf (Vienna, 1861)
have given the best accounts of it. Recently M. Ernest Martin has given a new
critical edition of the Ancien Renart (3 vols., Strasburg and Paris, 1882-1887).
[63] The necessary expression of the genitive by de is later than this. Mediaeval
French retained the inflection of nouns, though in a dilapidated condition.
Properly speaking Renars is the nominative, Renart the general inflected case.
[64] This is a free translation of the last line of the original, which is as follows:
—
Pour renard qui gelines tue,
Qui a la rousse peau vestue,
Qui a grand queue et quatre piés,
N'est pas ce livre communiés;
Mais pour cellui qui a deux mains
Dont il sont en ce siècle mains,
Qui ont sous la chappe Faulx Semblant.
Wolf, Op. cit. p. 5.
The final allusion is to a personage of the Roman de la Rose.
[65] Ed. Roquefort, vol. ii. See next chapter.
[66] By Dr. W. Förster. Heilbronn, 1882.
si cum li lox fist a l'aingnel.
FOOTNOTES:
[60] The first collection of Fabliaux was published by Barbazan in 1756. This
was re-edited by Méon in 1808, and reinforced by the same author with a fresh
collection in 1823. Meanwhile Le Grand d'Aussy had (1774-1781) given
extracts, abstracts, and translations into modern French of many of them.
Jubinal, Robert, and others enriched the collection further, and in vol. xxiii. of
the Histoire Littéraire M. V. Le Clerc published an excellent study of the subject.
A complete collection of Fabliaux has, however, only recently been attempted,
by M. M. A. de Montaiglon and G. Raynaud (6 vols., Paris, 1872-1888).
[61] Fabliau is, of course, the Latin fabula. The genealogy of the word is fabula,
fabella, fabel, fable, fablel, fableau, fabliau. All these last five forms exist.
[62] It should be noticed that this title, though consecrated by usage, is a
misnomer. It should be Roman de Renart, for this latter is a proper name. The
class name is goupil (vulpes). The standard edition is that of Méon (4 vols.,
Paris, 1826) with the supplement of Chabaille, 1835. This includes not merely
the Ancien Renart, but the Couronnement and Renart le Nouvel. Renart le
Contrefait has never been printed. Rothe (Paris, 1845) and Wolf (Vienna, 1861)
have given the best accounts of it. Recently M. Ernest Martin has given a new
critical edition of the Ancien Renart (3 vols., Strasburg and Paris, 1882-1887).
[63] The necessary expression of the genitive by de is later than this. Mediaeval
French retained the inflection of nouns, though in a dilapidated condition.
Properly speaking Renars is the nominative, Renart the general inflected case.
[64] This is a free translation of the last line of the original, which is as follows:
—
Pour renard qui gelines tue,
Qui a la rousse peau vestue,
Qui a grand queue et quatre piés,
N'est pas ce livre communiés;
Mais pour cellui qui a deux mains
Dont il sont en ce siècle mains,
Qui ont sous la chappe Faulx Semblant.
Wolf, Op. cit. p. 5.
The final allusion is to a personage of the Roman de la Rose.
[65] Ed. Roquefort, vol. ii. See next chapter.
[66] By Dr. W. Förster. Heilbronn, 1882.
Page 89
Page 90
CHAPTER VI.
EARLY LYRICS.
The lyric poetry of the middle ages in France divides
itself naturally into two periods, distinguished by very Early and Later
Lyrics.
strongly marked characteristics. The end of the
thirteenth century is the dividing point in this as in many other branches of
literature. After that we get the extremely interesting, if artificial, forms of
the Rondeau and Ballade, with their many varieties and congeners. With
these we shall not busy ourselves in the present chapter. But the twelfth and
thirteenth centuries are provided with a lyric growth, less perfect indeed in
form than that which occupied French singers from Machault to Marot, but
more spontaneous, fuller of individuality, variety, and vigour, and scarcely
less abundant in amount.
Before the twelfth century we find no traces of genuine
lyrical work in France. The ubiquitous Cantilenae Origins of Lyric.
indeed again make their appearance in the speculations
of literary historians, but here as elsewhere they have no Romances and
demonstrable historical existence. Except a few sacred Pastourelles.
songs, sometimes, as in the case of Saint Eulalie, in early Romance
language, sometimes in what the French call langue farcie, that is to say, a
mixture of French and Latin, nothing regularly lyrical is found up to the end
of the eleventh century. But soon afterwards lyric work becomes
exceedingly abundant. This is what forms the contents of Herr Karl
Bartsch's delightful volume of Romanzen und Pastourellen[67]. These are
the two earliest forms of French lyric poetry. They are recognised by the
Troubadour Raimon Vidal as the special property of the Northern tongue,
and no reasonable pretence has been put forward to show that they are other
than indigenous. The tendency of both is towards iambic rhythm, but it is
not exclusively manifested as in later verse. It is one of the most interesting
things in French literary history to see how early the estrangement of the
language from the anapaestic and dactylic measures natural to Teutonic
EARLY LYRICS.
The lyric poetry of the middle ages in France divides
itself naturally into two periods, distinguished by very Early and Later
Lyrics.
strongly marked characteristics. The end of the
thirteenth century is the dividing point in this as in many other branches of
literature. After that we get the extremely interesting, if artificial, forms of
the Rondeau and Ballade, with their many varieties and congeners. With
these we shall not busy ourselves in the present chapter. But the twelfth and
thirteenth centuries are provided with a lyric growth, less perfect indeed in
form than that which occupied French singers from Machault to Marot, but
more spontaneous, fuller of individuality, variety, and vigour, and scarcely
less abundant in amount.
Before the twelfth century we find no traces of genuine
lyrical work in France. The ubiquitous Cantilenae Origins of Lyric.
indeed again make their appearance in the speculations
of literary historians, but here as elsewhere they have no Romances and
demonstrable historical existence. Except a few sacred Pastourelles.
songs, sometimes, as in the case of Saint Eulalie, in early Romance
language, sometimes in what the French call langue farcie, that is to say, a
mixture of French and Latin, nothing regularly lyrical is found up to the end
of the eleventh century. But soon afterwards lyric work becomes
exceedingly abundant. This is what forms the contents of Herr Karl
Bartsch's delightful volume of Romanzen und Pastourellen[67]. These are
the two earliest forms of French lyric poetry. They are recognised by the
Troubadour Raimon Vidal as the special property of the Northern tongue,
and no reasonable pretence has been put forward to show that they are other
than indigenous. The tendency of both is towards iambic rhythm, but it is
not exclusively manifested as in later verse. It is one of the most interesting
things in French literary history to see how early the estrangement of the
language from the anapaestic and dactylic measures natural to Teutonic
Page 91
speech began to declare itself[68]. These early poems bubble over with
natural gaiety, their refrains, musical though semi-articulate as they are, are
sweet and manifold in cadence, but the main body of the versification is
either iambic or trochaic (it was long before the latter measure became
infrequent), and the freedom of the ballad-metres of England and Germany
is seldom present. The Romance differs in form and still more in subject
from the Pastourelle, and both differ very remarkably from the form and
manner of Provençal poetry. It has been observed by nearly all students,
that the love-poems of the latter language are almost always at once
personal and abstract in subject. The Romance and the Pastourelle, on the
contrary, are almost always dramatic. They tell a story, and often (though
not always in the case of the Pastourelle) they tell it of some one other than
the singer. The most common form of the Romance is that of a poem
varying from twenty lines long to ten times that length and divided into
stanzas. These stanzas consist of a certain number (not usually less than
three or more than eight) of lines of equal length capped with a refrain in a
different metre. By far the best, though by no means the earliest, of them
are those of Audefroy le Bastard, who, according to the late M. Paulin Paris,
may be fixed at the beginning of the thirteenth century. Audefroy's poems
are very much alike in plan, telling for the most part how the course of
some impeded true love at last ran smooth. They rank with the very best
mediaeval poetry in colour, in lively painting of manners and feelings, and
in grace of versification. Unfortunately they are one and all rather too long
for quotation here. The anonymous Romance of 'Bele Erembors' will
represent the class well enough. The rhyme still bears traces of assonance,
which is thought to have prevailed till Audefroy's time:—
Quant vient en mai, que l'on dit as lons jors,
Que Frans en France repairent de roi cort,
Reynauz repaire devant el premier front
Si s'en passa lez lo mes Arembor,
Ainz n'en designa le chief drecier a mont.
E Raynaut amis!
Bele Erembors a la fenestre au jor
Sor ses genolz tient paile de color;
Voit Frans de France qui repairent de cort,
natural gaiety, their refrains, musical though semi-articulate as they are, are
sweet and manifold in cadence, but the main body of the versification is
either iambic or trochaic (it was long before the latter measure became
infrequent), and the freedom of the ballad-metres of England and Germany
is seldom present. The Romance differs in form and still more in subject
from the Pastourelle, and both differ very remarkably from the form and
manner of Provençal poetry. It has been observed by nearly all students,
that the love-poems of the latter language are almost always at once
personal and abstract in subject. The Romance and the Pastourelle, on the
contrary, are almost always dramatic. They tell a story, and often (though
not always in the case of the Pastourelle) they tell it of some one other than
the singer. The most common form of the Romance is that of a poem
varying from twenty lines long to ten times that length and divided into
stanzas. These stanzas consist of a certain number (not usually less than
three or more than eight) of lines of equal length capped with a refrain in a
different metre. By far the best, though by no means the earliest, of them
are those of Audefroy le Bastard, who, according to the late M. Paulin Paris,
may be fixed at the beginning of the thirteenth century. Audefroy's poems
are very much alike in plan, telling for the most part how the course of
some impeded true love at last ran smooth. They rank with the very best
mediaeval poetry in colour, in lively painting of manners and feelings, and
in grace of versification. Unfortunately they are one and all rather too long
for quotation here. The anonymous Romance of 'Bele Erembors' will
represent the class well enough. The rhyme still bears traces of assonance,
which is thought to have prevailed till Audefroy's time:—
Quant vient en mai, que l'on dit as lons jors,
Que Frans en France repairent de roi cort,
Reynauz repaire devant el premier front
Si s'en passa lez lo mes Arembor,
Ainz n'en designa le chief drecier a mont.
E Raynaut amis!
Bele Erembors a la fenestre au jor
Sor ses genolz tient paile de color;
Voit Frans de France qui repairent de cort,
Page 92
E voit Raynaut devant el premier front:
En haut parole, si a dit sa raison.
E Raynaut amis!
'Amis Raynaut, j'ai ja veu cel jor
Se passisoiz selon mon pere tor,
Dolanz fussiez se ne parlasse a vos.'
'Ja mesfaistes, fille d'Empereor,
Autrui amastes, si obliastes nos.'
E Raynaut amis!
'Sire Raynaut, je m'en escondirai:
A cent puceles sor sainz vos jurerai,
A trente dames que avuec moi menrai,
C'onques nul hom fors vostre cors n'amai.
Prennez l'emmende et je vos baiserai.'
E Raynaut amis!
Li cuens Raynauz en monta lo degre,
Gros par espaules, greles par lo baudre;
Blonde ot lo poil, menu, recercele:
En nule terre n'ot so biau bacheler.
Voit l'Erembors, so comence a plorer.
E Raynaut amis!
Li cuens Raynauz est montez en la tor,
Si s'est assis en un lit point a flors,
Dejoste lui se siet bele Erembors.
* * * * * *
Lors recomencent lor premieres amors.
E Raynaut amis!
The Pastourelle is still more uniform in subject. It invariably represents the
knight or the poet riding past and seeing a fair shepherdess by his road-side.
He alights and woos her with or without success. In this class of poem the
stanzas are usually longer, and consist of shorter lines than is the case with
En haut parole, si a dit sa raison.
E Raynaut amis!
'Amis Raynaut, j'ai ja veu cel jor
Se passisoiz selon mon pere tor,
Dolanz fussiez se ne parlasse a vos.'
'Ja mesfaistes, fille d'Empereor,
Autrui amastes, si obliastes nos.'
E Raynaut amis!
'Sire Raynaut, je m'en escondirai:
A cent puceles sor sainz vos jurerai,
A trente dames que avuec moi menrai,
C'onques nul hom fors vostre cors n'amai.
Prennez l'emmende et je vos baiserai.'
E Raynaut amis!
Li cuens Raynauz en monta lo degre,
Gros par espaules, greles par lo baudre;
Blonde ot lo poil, menu, recercele:
En nule terre n'ot so biau bacheler.
Voit l'Erembors, so comence a plorer.
E Raynaut amis!
Li cuens Raynauz est montez en la tor,
Si s'est assis en un lit point a flors,
Dejoste lui se siet bele Erembors.
* * * * * *
Lors recomencent lor premieres amors.
E Raynaut amis!
The Pastourelle is still more uniform in subject. It invariably represents the
knight or the poet riding past and seeing a fair shepherdess by his road-side.
He alights and woos her with or without success. In this class of poem the
stanzas are usually longer, and consist of shorter lines than is the case with
Page 93
the Romances, while the refrains are more usually meaningless though
generally very musical. It is, however, well to add that the very great
diversity of metrical arrangement in this class makes it impossible to give a
general description of it. There are Pastourelles consisting merely of four-
lined stanzas with no refrain at all. The following is a good specimen of the
class:—
De Saint Quentin a Cambrai
Chevalchoie l'autre jour;
Les un boisson esgardai,
Touse i vi de bel atour.
La colour
Ot freche com rose en mai.
De cuer gai
Chantant la trovai
Ceste chansonnete
'En non deu, j'ai bel ami,
Cointe et joli,
Tant soie je brunete.'
Vers la pastoure tornai
Quant la vi en son destour;
Hautement la saluai
Et di 'deus vos doinst bon jour
Et honour.
Celle ke ci trove ai,
Sens delai
Ses amis serai.'
Dont dist la doucete
'En non deu, j'ai bel ami,
Cointe et joli,
Tant soie je brunete.'
Deles li seoir alai
Et li priai de s'amour,
Celle dist 'Je n'amerai
Vos ne autrui par nul tour,
generally very musical. It is, however, well to add that the very great
diversity of metrical arrangement in this class makes it impossible to give a
general description of it. There are Pastourelles consisting merely of four-
lined stanzas with no refrain at all. The following is a good specimen of the
class:—
De Saint Quentin a Cambrai
Chevalchoie l'autre jour;
Les un boisson esgardai,
Touse i vi de bel atour.
La colour
Ot freche com rose en mai.
De cuer gai
Chantant la trovai
Ceste chansonnete
'En non deu, j'ai bel ami,
Cointe et joli,
Tant soie je brunete.'
Vers la pastoure tornai
Quant la vi en son destour;
Hautement la saluai
Et di 'deus vos doinst bon jour
Et honour.
Celle ke ci trove ai,
Sens delai
Ses amis serai.'
Dont dist la doucete
'En non deu, j'ai bel ami,
Cointe et joli,
Tant soie je brunete.'
Deles li seoir alai
Et li priai de s'amour,
Celle dist 'Je n'amerai
Vos ne autrui par nul tour,
Page 94
Sens pastour,
Robin, ke fiencie l'ai.
Joie en ai,
Si en chanterai
Ceste chansonnete:
En non deu, j'ai bel ami,
Cointe et joli,
Tant soie je brunete.'
So various, notwithstanding the simplicity and apparent monotony of their
subjects, are these charming poems, that it is difficult to give, by mere
citation of any one or even of several, an idea of their beauty. In no part of
the literature of the middle ages are its lighter characteristics more
pleasantly shown. The childish freedom from care and afterthought, the half
unconscious delight in the beauty of flowers and the song of birds, the
innocent animal enjoyment of fine weather and the open country, are
nowhere so well represented. Chaucer may give English readers some idea
of all this, but even Chaucer is sophisticated in comparison with the
numerous, and for the most part nameless, singers who preceded him by
almost two centuries in France. As a purely formal and literary
characteristic, the use of the burden or refrain is perhaps their most
noteworthy peculiarity. Herr Bartsch has collected five hundred of these
refrains, all different. There is nothing like this to be found in any other
literature; and, as readers of Béranger know, the fashion was preserved in
France long after it had been given up elsewhere.
After the twelfth century the early lyrical literature of
France undergoes some changes. In the first place it Thirteenth Century.
ceases to be anonymous, and individual singers—some
of them, like Thibaut of Champagne, of very great merit Changes in Lyric.
and individuality—make their appearance. In the second
place it becomes more varied but at the same time more artificial in form,
and exhibits evident marks of the communication between troubadour and
trouvère, and of the imitation by the latter of the stricter forms of Provençal
poetry. The Romance and the Pastourelle are still cultivated, but by their
side grow up French versions, often adapted with considerable
independence, of the forms of the South[69]. Such, for instance, is the
chanson d'amour, a form less artfully regulated indeed than the
Robin, ke fiencie l'ai.
Joie en ai,
Si en chanterai
Ceste chansonnete:
En non deu, j'ai bel ami,
Cointe et joli,
Tant soie je brunete.'
So various, notwithstanding the simplicity and apparent monotony of their
subjects, are these charming poems, that it is difficult to give, by mere
citation of any one or even of several, an idea of their beauty. In no part of
the literature of the middle ages are its lighter characteristics more
pleasantly shown. The childish freedom from care and afterthought, the half
unconscious delight in the beauty of flowers and the song of birds, the
innocent animal enjoyment of fine weather and the open country, are
nowhere so well represented. Chaucer may give English readers some idea
of all this, but even Chaucer is sophisticated in comparison with the
numerous, and for the most part nameless, singers who preceded him by
almost two centuries in France. As a purely formal and literary
characteristic, the use of the burden or refrain is perhaps their most
noteworthy peculiarity. Herr Bartsch has collected five hundred of these
refrains, all different. There is nothing like this to be found in any other
literature; and, as readers of Béranger know, the fashion was preserved in
France long after it had been given up elsewhere.
After the twelfth century the early lyrical literature of
France undergoes some changes. In the first place it Thirteenth Century.
ceases to be anonymous, and individual singers—some
of them, like Thibaut of Champagne, of very great merit Changes in Lyric.
and individuality—make their appearance. In the second
place it becomes more varied but at the same time more artificial in form,
and exhibits evident marks of the communication between troubadour and
trouvère, and of the imitation by the latter of the stricter forms of Provençal
poetry. The Romance and the Pastourelle are still cultivated, but by their
side grow up French versions, often adapted with considerable
independence, of the forms of the South[69]. Such, for instance, is the
chanson d'amour, a form less artfully regulated indeed than the
Page 95
corresponding canzon or sestine of the troubadours, but still of some
intricacy. It consists of five or six stanzas, each of which has two interlaced
rhymes, and concludes with an Envoi, which, however, is often omitted.
Chansonnettes on a reduced scale are also found. In these pieces the
alternation of masculine and feminine rhymes, which was ultimately to
become the chief distinguishing feature of French prosody, is observable,
though it is by no means universal. To the Provençal tenson corresponds the
jeu parti or verse dialogue, which is sometimes arranged in the form of a
Chanson. The salut d'amour is a kind of epistle, sometimes of very great
length and usually in octosyllabic verse, the decasyllable being more
commonly used in the Chanson. Of this the complainte is only a variety.
Again, the Provençal sirvente is represented by the northern serventois, a
poem in Chanson form, but occupied instead of love with war, satire,
religion, and miscellaneous matters. It has even been doubted whether the
serventois is not the forerunner of the sirvente instead of the reverse being
the case. Other forms are motets, rotruenges, aubades. Poems called
rondeaux and ballades also make their appearance, but they are loose in
construction and undecided in form. The thirteenth century is, moreover, the
palmy time of the Pastourelle. Most of those which we possess belong to
this period, and exhibit to the full the already indicated characteristics of
that graceful form. But the lyric forms of the thirteenth century are to some
extent rather imitated than indigenous, and it is no doubt to the fact of this
imitation that the common ascription of general poetical priority to the
Langue d'Oc, unfounded as it has been sufficiently shown to be, is due in
the main. The most courageous defenders of the North have wished to
maintain its claims wholly intact even in this instance, but probability, if not
evidence, is against them.
It has been said that the number of song writers from the
end of the twelfth century to the end of the thirteenth is Traces of Lyric in
the Thirteenth
extremely large. M. Paulin Paris, whose elaborate Century.
chapter in the Histoire Littéraire is still the great
authority on the subject, has enumerated nearly two
Quesnes de
hundred, to whose work have to be added hundreds of Bethune.
anonymous pieces. It would seem indeed that during a
considerable period the practice of song writing was Thibaut de
almost as incumbent on the French gentleman of the Champagne.
intricacy. It consists of five or six stanzas, each of which has two interlaced
rhymes, and concludes with an Envoi, which, however, is often omitted.
Chansonnettes on a reduced scale are also found. In these pieces the
alternation of masculine and feminine rhymes, which was ultimately to
become the chief distinguishing feature of French prosody, is observable,
though it is by no means universal. To the Provençal tenson corresponds the
jeu parti or verse dialogue, which is sometimes arranged in the form of a
Chanson. The salut d'amour is a kind of epistle, sometimes of very great
length and usually in octosyllabic verse, the decasyllable being more
commonly used in the Chanson. Of this the complainte is only a variety.
Again, the Provençal sirvente is represented by the northern serventois, a
poem in Chanson form, but occupied instead of love with war, satire,
religion, and miscellaneous matters. It has even been doubted whether the
serventois is not the forerunner of the sirvente instead of the reverse being
the case. Other forms are motets, rotruenges, aubades. Poems called
rondeaux and ballades also make their appearance, but they are loose in
construction and undecided in form. The thirteenth century is, moreover, the
palmy time of the Pastourelle. Most of those which we possess belong to
this period, and exhibit to the full the already indicated characteristics of
that graceful form. But the lyric forms of the thirteenth century are to some
extent rather imitated than indigenous, and it is no doubt to the fact of this
imitation that the common ascription of general poetical priority to the
Langue d'Oc, unfounded as it has been sufficiently shown to be, is due in
the main. The most courageous defenders of the North have wished to
maintain its claims wholly intact even in this instance, but probability, if not
evidence, is against them.
It has been said that the number of song writers from the
end of the twelfth century to the end of the thirteenth is Traces of Lyric in
the Thirteenth
extremely large. M. Paulin Paris, whose elaborate Century.
chapter in the Histoire Littéraire is still the great
authority on the subject, has enumerated nearly two
Quesnes de
hundred, to whose work have to be added hundreds of Bethune.
anonymous pieces. It would seem indeed that during a
considerable period the practice of song writing was Thibaut de
almost as incumbent on the French gentleman of the Champagne.
Page 96
thirteenth century as that of sonnetteering on the English gentleman of the
sixteenth. There are, however, not a few names which deserve separate
notice. The first of these in point of time, and not the last in point of literary
importance, is that of Quesnes de Bethune, the ancestor of Sully, and
himself a famous warrior, statesman, and poet. His epitaph by a poet not
usually remarkable for eloquence[70] is a very striking one. It gives us
approximately the date of his death, 1224; and the word vieux is supposed
to show that Quesnes must have been born at least as early as the middle of
the twelfth century. He took part in two crusades, that of Philip Augustus
and that which Villehardouin has chronicled. His poems[71] are of all
classes, historical, satirical, and amorous, some of last being addressed to
Marie, Countess of Champagne; and his Chansons are, in the technical
sense, some of the earliest we possess. Contemporary with Quesnes
apparently was the personage who is known under the title of Châtelain de
Coucy, and whose love for the Lady of Fayel resulted in an interchange of
very tender and beautiful verse; the poem known as the lady's own is one of
the very best of its kind. Long afterwards lover and lady became the hero
and heroine of a romance, which has led some persons to throw doubt upon
their historical existence, and the Lady of Fayel has even been deprived of
her poem by a well-known kind of criticism. Of more importance is Thibaut
de Champagne, King of Navarre, who is indeed the most important single
figure of early French lyrical poetry. He was born in 1201, and died in
1253. His high position as a feudal prince in both north and south, the
minority of St. Louis, and the intimate relations which existed between the
King's mother, Blanche of Castille, and Thibaut, made him the mark for a
good deal of satirical invective. There is a tradition that he was Blanche's
lover, the only objection to which is that the Queen was thirty years his
senior. Thibaut's poems have been more than once reprinted, the last edition
being that of M. Tarbé[72]; this contains eighty-one pieces, not a few of
which, however, are probably the work of others. The majority of them are
Chansons d'Amour, of the kind just defined. There are, however, a good
many Jeux-Partis, and a certain number of nondescript poems on
miscellaneous subjects. There is more reason for the common opinion
which attributes to Thibaut the marriage of the poetical qualities of northern
and southern France, than the mere fact of his having been both Count of
Champagne and King of Navarre. His poems have in reality something of
the freshness and the individuality of the Trouvères, mixed with a great deal
sixteenth. There are, however, not a few names which deserve separate
notice. The first of these in point of time, and not the last in point of literary
importance, is that of Quesnes de Bethune, the ancestor of Sully, and
himself a famous warrior, statesman, and poet. His epitaph by a poet not
usually remarkable for eloquence[70] is a very striking one. It gives us
approximately the date of his death, 1224; and the word vieux is supposed
to show that Quesnes must have been born at least as early as the middle of
the twelfth century. He took part in two crusades, that of Philip Augustus
and that which Villehardouin has chronicled. His poems[71] are of all
classes, historical, satirical, and amorous, some of last being addressed to
Marie, Countess of Champagne; and his Chansons are, in the technical
sense, some of the earliest we possess. Contemporary with Quesnes
apparently was the personage who is known under the title of Châtelain de
Coucy, and whose love for the Lady of Fayel resulted in an interchange of
very tender and beautiful verse; the poem known as the lady's own is one of
the very best of its kind. Long afterwards lover and lady became the hero
and heroine of a romance, which has led some persons to throw doubt upon
their historical existence, and the Lady of Fayel has even been deprived of
her poem by a well-known kind of criticism. Of more importance is Thibaut
de Champagne, King of Navarre, who is indeed the most important single
figure of early French lyrical poetry. He was born in 1201, and died in
1253. His high position as a feudal prince in both north and south, the
minority of St. Louis, and the intimate relations which existed between the
King's mother, Blanche of Castille, and Thibaut, made him the mark for a
good deal of satirical invective. There is a tradition that he was Blanche's
lover, the only objection to which is that the Queen was thirty years his
senior. Thibaut's poems have been more than once reprinted, the last edition
being that of M. Tarbé[72]; this contains eighty-one pieces, not a few of
which, however, are probably the work of others. The majority of them are
Chansons d'Amour, of the kind just defined. There are, however, a good
many Jeux-Partis, and a certain number of nondescript poems on
miscellaneous subjects. There is more reason for the common opinion
which attributes to Thibaut the marriage of the poetical qualities of northern
and southern France, than the mere fact of his having been both Count of
Champagne and King of Navarre. His poems have in reality something of
the freshness and the individuality of the Trouvères, mixed with a great deal
Page 97
of the formal grace and elegance of the Troubadours. The following may
serve as an example:—
Contre le tens qui desbrise
Yvers, et revient este,
Et la mauvis se desguise,
Qui de lonc tens n'a chante
Ferai chanson. Car a gre
Me vient que j'aie en pense
Amor, qui en moi s'est mise.
Bien m'a droit son dart gete.
Douce dame, de franchise,
N'ai je point en vos trove:
S'ele ne s'i est puis mise
Que je ne vos esgarde,
Trop avez vers moi fierte.
Mais ce fait vostre biaute,
Ou il n'i a pas de devise,
Tant en i a grand plante.
En moi n'a point d'astenance
Que je puisse aillors penser,
Pors que la, ou conoissance
Ne merci ne puis trover.
Bien fui fait por li amer;
Car ne m'en puis saoler.
Et quant plus aurai cheance,
Plus la me convendra douter.
D'une riens sui en doutance,
Que je ne puis plus celer,
Qu'en li n'ait un po d'enfance.
Ce me fait deconforter,
Que s'a moi a bon penser
Ne l'ose ele desmontrer.
Si feist qu'a sa semblance
Le poisse deviner.
serve as an example:—
Contre le tens qui desbrise
Yvers, et revient este,
Et la mauvis se desguise,
Qui de lonc tens n'a chante
Ferai chanson. Car a gre
Me vient que j'aie en pense
Amor, qui en moi s'est mise.
Bien m'a droit son dart gete.
Douce dame, de franchise,
N'ai je point en vos trove:
S'ele ne s'i est puis mise
Que je ne vos esgarde,
Trop avez vers moi fierte.
Mais ce fait vostre biaute,
Ou il n'i a pas de devise,
Tant en i a grand plante.
En moi n'a point d'astenance
Que je puisse aillors penser,
Pors que la, ou conoissance
Ne merci ne puis trover.
Bien fui fait por li amer;
Car ne m'en puis saoler.
Et quant plus aurai cheance,
Plus la me convendra douter.
D'une riens sui en doutance,
Que je ne puis plus celer,
Qu'en li n'ait un po d'enfance.
Ce me fait deconforter,
Que s'a moi a bon penser
Ne l'ose ele desmontrer.
Si feist qu'a sa semblance
Le poisse deviner.
Page 98
Des que je li fis priere
Et la pris a esgarder,
Me fist amors la lumiere
Des iels par le cuer passer.
Cil conduit me fait grever:
Dont je ne me soi garder:
Ne ne puet torner arriere
Mon cuer; miex voudrait crever.
Dame, a vos m'estuet clamer,
Et que merci vos requiere.
Diex m'i laist pitie trover!
Besides Thibaut there are not a few other song writers of Minor Singers.
the thirteenth century, who rise out of the crowd named
by M. Paulin Paris. Some of these, as might be expected, Adam de la Halle.
are famous for their achievements in other departments
of literature. Such are Adam de la Halle, Jean Bodel, Guyot de Provins.
There are, however, two, Gace Brulé and Colin Muset, who survive solely
but worthily as song writers. Gace Brulé was a knight of Champagne, Colin
Muset a professed minstrel. The former chiefly composed sentimental
work; the latter, with the proverbial or professional gaiety of his class, drew
nearer to the satirical tone of the Fabliau writers. His best-known and most
usually quoted work describes the different welcome which he receives
from his family on his return from professional tours, according to the
success or ill-success with which he has met. Two other poets, Adam de la
Halle and Rutebœuf, are far more prominent in literary history. Adam de la
Halle[73] bore the surname 'Le Bossu d'Arras,' from his native town, though
the term hunchback seems to have had no literal application to him. His
exact date is not known, but it must probably have been from the fourth to
the ninth decade of the thirteenth century. His dramatic works, which are of
signal importance, will be noticed elsewhere. But besides these he has left
some seventy or eighty lyrical pieces of one kind or another. Adam's life
was not uneventful; he was at first a monk, but left his convent and married.
Then he proved as faithless to his temporal as he had been to his spiritual
vows. He lampooned his wife, his family, his townsmen, and, shaking the
dust of Arras from his feet, retired first to Douai and then to the court of
Et la pris a esgarder,
Me fist amors la lumiere
Des iels par le cuer passer.
Cil conduit me fait grever:
Dont je ne me soi garder:
Ne ne puet torner arriere
Mon cuer; miex voudrait crever.
Dame, a vos m'estuet clamer,
Et que merci vos requiere.
Diex m'i laist pitie trover!
Besides Thibaut there are not a few other song writers of Minor Singers.
the thirteenth century, who rise out of the crowd named
by M. Paulin Paris. Some of these, as might be expected, Adam de la Halle.
are famous for their achievements in other departments
of literature. Such are Adam de la Halle, Jean Bodel, Guyot de Provins.
There are, however, two, Gace Brulé and Colin Muset, who survive solely
but worthily as song writers. Gace Brulé was a knight of Champagne, Colin
Muset a professed minstrel. The former chiefly composed sentimental
work; the latter, with the proverbial or professional gaiety of his class, drew
nearer to the satirical tone of the Fabliau writers. His best-known and most
usually quoted work describes the different welcome which he receives
from his family on his return from professional tours, according to the
success or ill-success with which he has met. Two other poets, Adam de la
Halle and Rutebœuf, are far more prominent in literary history. Adam de la
Halle[73] bore the surname 'Le Bossu d'Arras,' from his native town, though
the term hunchback seems to have had no literal application to him. His
exact date is not known, but it must probably have been from the fourth to
the ninth decade of the thirteenth century. His dramatic works, which are of
signal importance, will be noticed elsewhere. But besides these he has left
some seventy or eighty lyrical pieces of one kind or another. Adam's life
was not uneventful; he was at first a monk, but left his convent and married.
Then he proved as faithless to his temporal as he had been to his spiritual
vows. He lampooned his wife, his family, his townsmen, and, shaking the
dust of Arras from his feet, retired first to Douai and then to the court of
Page 99
Robert of Artois, whom he accompanied to Italy. He died in that country
about 1288. The style of Adam de la Halle varies from the coarsest satire to
the most graceful tenderness. Of the latter the following song is a good
specimen:—
Diex!
Comment porroie
Trouver voie
D'aler a chelui
Cui amiete je sui?
Chainturelle, va-i
En lieu de mi;
Car tu fus sieue aussi,
Si m'en conquerra miex.
Mais comment serai sans ti?
Dieus!
Chainturelle, mar vous vi;
Au deschaindre m'ochies;
De mes grietes a vous me confortoie,
Quant je vous sentoie,
Ai mi!
A le saveur de mon ami.
Ne pour quant d'autres en ai,
A cleus d'argent et de soie,
Pour men user.
Mais lasse! comment porroie
Sans cheli durer
Qui me tient en joie?
Canchonnete, chelui proie
Qui le m'envoya,
Puis que jou ne puis aler la.
Qu'il en viengne a moi,
Chi droit,
A jour failli,
Pour faire tous ses boins,
about 1288. The style of Adam de la Halle varies from the coarsest satire to
the most graceful tenderness. Of the latter the following song is a good
specimen:—
Diex!
Comment porroie
Trouver voie
D'aler a chelui
Cui amiete je sui?
Chainturelle, va-i
En lieu de mi;
Car tu fus sieue aussi,
Si m'en conquerra miex.
Mais comment serai sans ti?
Dieus!
Chainturelle, mar vous vi;
Au deschaindre m'ochies;
De mes grietes a vous me confortoie,
Quant je vous sentoie,
Ai mi!
A le saveur de mon ami.
Ne pour quant d'autres en ai,
A cleus d'argent et de soie,
Pour men user.
Mais lasse! comment porroie
Sans cheli durer
Qui me tient en joie?
Canchonnete, chelui proie
Qui le m'envoya,
Puis que jou ne puis aler la.
Qu'il en viengne a moi,
Chi droit,
A jour failli,
Pour faire tous ses boins,
Page 100
Et il m'orra,
Quant il ert joins,
Canter a haute vois:
Par chi va la mignotise,
Par chi ou je vois.
Rutebœuf (whose name appears to be a nickname only) Rutebœuf
has been more fortunate than most of the poets of early
France in leaving a considerable and varied work behind him, and in having
it well and collectively edited[74]. Little or nothing, however, is known
about him, except from allusions in his own verse. He was probably born
about 1230; he was certainly married in 1260; there is no allusion in his
poems to any event later than 1285. By birth he may have been either a
Burgundian or a Parisian. His work which, as has been said, is not
inconsiderable in volume, falls into three well-marked divisions in point of
subject. The first consists of personal and of comic poems; the second of
poems sometimes satirical, sometimes panegyrical, on public personages
and events; the third, which is apparently with reason assigned to the latest
period of his life, of devotional poems. In the first division La Pauvreté
Rutebœuf, Le Mariage Rutebœuf, etc., are complaints of his woeful
condition; complaints, however, in which there is nearly as much satire as
appeal. Others, such as Renart le Bestourné, Le Dit des Cordeliers, Frère
Denise, Le Dit de l'Erberie, are poems of the Fabliau kind. In all these there
are many lively strokes of satire, and not a little of the reckless gaiety,
chequered here and there with deeper feeling, which has always been a
characteristic of a certain number of French poets. Rutebœuf's sarcasm is
especially directed towards the monastic orders. The second class of poems,
which is numerous, displays a more elevated strain of thought. Many of
these poems are complaintes or elaborate elegies (often composed on
commission) for distinguished persons, such as Geoffroy de Sargines and
Guillaume de Saint Amour. Others, such as the Complainte d'Outremer, the
Complainte de Constantinople, the Dit de la Voie de Tunes, the Débat du
Croisé et du Décroisé, are comments on the politics and history of the time,
for the most part strongly in favour of the crusading spirit, and reproaching
the nobility of France with their degeneracy. 'Mort sont Ogier et
Charlemagne' is an often-quoted exclamation of Rutebœuf in this sense.
The third class includes La Mort Rutebœuf, otherwise La Repentance
Quant il ert joins,
Canter a haute vois:
Par chi va la mignotise,
Par chi ou je vois.
Rutebœuf (whose name appears to be a nickname only) Rutebœuf
has been more fortunate than most of the poets of early
France in leaving a considerable and varied work behind him, and in having
it well and collectively edited[74]. Little or nothing, however, is known
about him, except from allusions in his own verse. He was probably born
about 1230; he was certainly married in 1260; there is no allusion in his
poems to any event later than 1285. By birth he may have been either a
Burgundian or a Parisian. His work which, as has been said, is not
inconsiderable in volume, falls into three well-marked divisions in point of
subject. The first consists of personal and of comic poems; the second of
poems sometimes satirical, sometimes panegyrical, on public personages
and events; the third, which is apparently with reason assigned to the latest
period of his life, of devotional poems. In the first division La Pauvreté
Rutebœuf, Le Mariage Rutebœuf, etc., are complaints of his woeful
condition; complaints, however, in which there is nearly as much satire as
appeal. Others, such as Renart le Bestourné, Le Dit des Cordeliers, Frère
Denise, Le Dit de l'Erberie, are poems of the Fabliau kind. In all these there
are many lively strokes of satire, and not a little of the reckless gaiety,
chequered here and there with deeper feeling, which has always been a
characteristic of a certain number of French poets. Rutebœuf's sarcasm is
especially directed towards the monastic orders. The second class of poems,
which is numerous, displays a more elevated strain of thought. Many of
these poems are complaintes or elaborate elegies (often composed on
commission) for distinguished persons, such as Geoffroy de Sargines and
Guillaume de Saint Amour. Others, such as the Complainte d'Outremer, the
Complainte de Constantinople, the Dit de la Voie de Tunes, the Débat du
Croisé et du Décroisé, are comments on the politics and history of the time,
for the most part strongly in favour of the crusading spirit, and reproaching
the nobility of France with their degeneracy. 'Mort sont Ogier et
Charlemagne' is an often-quoted exclamation of Rutebœuf in this sense.
The third class includes La Mort Rutebœuf, otherwise La Repentance
Page 101
Rutebœuf, La Voie de Paradis, various poems to the Virgin, the lives of St.
Mary of Egypt and St. Elizabeth of Hungary, and the miracle play of
Théophile. Rutebœuf's favourite metres are either the continuous
octosyllabic couplet, or else a stanza composed of an octosyllabic couplet
and a line of four syllables, the termination of the latter being caught up by
the succeeding couplet. In this the Mariage is written, of which a specimen
may be given:—
En l'an de l'incarnacïon,
VIII jors aprés la nascïon
Jhesu qui soufri passïon,
en l'an soissante,
qu'arbres n'a foille, oisel ne chante,
fis je toute la rien dolante
que de cuer m'aime:
nis li musarz musart me claime.
or puis filer, qu'il me faut traime;
mult ai a faire.
deus ne fist cuer tant de pute aire,
tant li aie fait de contraire
ne de martire,
s'il en mon martire se mire,
qui ne doie de bon cuer dire
'je te claim cuite.'
envoier un home en Egypte,
ceste dolor est plus petite
que n'est la moie;
je n'en puis mais se je m'esmoie.
l'en dit que fous qui ne foloie
pert sa saison:
sui je marïez sanz raison?
or n'ai ne borde ne maison.
encor plus fort:
por plus doner de reconfort
a ceus qui me heent de mort,
tel fame ai prise
que nus fors moi n'aime ne prise,
Mary of Egypt and St. Elizabeth of Hungary, and the miracle play of
Théophile. Rutebœuf's favourite metres are either the continuous
octosyllabic couplet, or else a stanza composed of an octosyllabic couplet
and a line of four syllables, the termination of the latter being caught up by
the succeeding couplet. In this the Mariage is written, of which a specimen
may be given:—
En l'an de l'incarnacïon,
VIII jors aprés la nascïon
Jhesu qui soufri passïon,
en l'an soissante,
qu'arbres n'a foille, oisel ne chante,
fis je toute la rien dolante
que de cuer m'aime:
nis li musarz musart me claime.
or puis filer, qu'il me faut traime;
mult ai a faire.
deus ne fist cuer tant de pute aire,
tant li aie fait de contraire
ne de martire,
s'il en mon martire se mire,
qui ne doie de bon cuer dire
'je te claim cuite.'
envoier un home en Egypte,
ceste dolor est plus petite
que n'est la moie;
je n'en puis mais se je m'esmoie.
l'en dit que fous qui ne foloie
pert sa saison:
sui je marïez sanz raison?
or n'ai ne borde ne maison.
encor plus fort:
por plus doner de reconfort
a ceus qui me heent de mort,
tel fame ai prise
que nus fors moi n'aime ne prise,
Page 102
et s'estoit povre et entreprise,
quant je la pris.
a ci marïage de pris,
c'or sui povres et entrepris
ausi comme ele,
et si n'est pas gente ne bele.
cinquante anz a en s'escuële,
s'est maigre et seche:
n'ai pas paor qu'ele me treche.
despuis que fu nez en la greche
deus de Marie,
ne fu mais tele espouserie.
je sui toz plains d'envoiserie:
bien pert a l'uevre.
Though he has less of the 'lyrical cry' than some others, Rutebœuf is
perhaps the most vigorous poet of his time.
There is one division of early poetry which may also be
noticed under this head, though it is sometimes dealt Lais. Marie de
France.
with as a kind of miniature epic. This is the lai, a term
which is used in old French poetry with two different significations. The
Trouvères of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries made of it a regular
lyrical form. But the most famous of its examples, those which now pass
under the name of Marie de France, are narrative poems in octosyllabic
verse and varying in length considerably. It is agreed that the term and the
thing are of Breton origin; and the opinion which seems most probable is
that the word originally had reference rather to the style of music with
which the harper accompanied his verse, than to the measure, arrangement,
or subject of the latter. As to Marie herself[75], nothing is known about her
with certainty. She lived in England in the reign of Henry III, and often
gives English equivalents for her French words. The lais which we possess,
written by her and attributed to her, are fourteen in number. They bear the
titles of Gugemer, Equitan, Le Fresne, Le Bisclaveret, Lanval, Les Deux
Amants, Ywenec, Le Laustic, Milun, Le Chaitivel, Le Chèvrefeuille, Eliduc,
Graalent and L'Espine. Mr. O'Shaughnessy has paraphrased several of these
in English[76]; they are all narrative in character. Their distinguishing
features are fluent and melodious versification, pure and graceful language
quant je la pris.
a ci marïage de pris,
c'or sui povres et entrepris
ausi comme ele,
et si n'est pas gente ne bele.
cinquante anz a en s'escuële,
s'est maigre et seche:
n'ai pas paor qu'ele me treche.
despuis que fu nez en la greche
deus de Marie,
ne fu mais tele espouserie.
je sui toz plains d'envoiserie:
bien pert a l'uevre.
Though he has less of the 'lyrical cry' than some others, Rutebœuf is
perhaps the most vigorous poet of his time.
There is one division of early poetry which may also be
noticed under this head, though it is sometimes dealt Lais. Marie de
France.
with as a kind of miniature epic. This is the lai, a term
which is used in old French poetry with two different significations. The
Trouvères of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries made of it a regular
lyrical form. But the most famous of its examples, those which now pass
under the name of Marie de France, are narrative poems in octosyllabic
verse and varying in length considerably. It is agreed that the term and the
thing are of Breton origin; and the opinion which seems most probable is
that the word originally had reference rather to the style of music with
which the harper accompanied his verse, than to the measure, arrangement,
or subject of the latter. As to Marie herself[75], nothing is known about her
with certainty. She lived in England in the reign of Henry III, and often
gives English equivalents for her French words. The lais which we possess,
written by her and attributed to her, are fourteen in number. They bear the
titles of Gugemer, Equitan, Le Fresne, Le Bisclaveret, Lanval, Les Deux
Amants, Ywenec, Le Laustic, Milun, Le Chaitivel, Le Chèvrefeuille, Eliduc,
Graalent and L'Espine. Mr. O'Shaughnessy has paraphrased several of these
in English[76]; they are all narrative in character. Their distinguishing
features are fluent and melodious versification, pure and graceful language
Page 103
—among the purest and most graceful, though decidedly Norman in
character, of the time—true poetical feeling, and a lively faculty of
invention and description. After Marie there was a tendency to approximate
the lai to the Provençal descort, and at last, as we have said, it acquired
rules and a form quite alien from those of its earlier examples. There is a
general though not a universal inclination to melancholy of subject in the
early lays, a few of which are anonymous.
Note to Third Edition.—M. Gaston Paris has expressed some surprise at my
remarks on metre (p. 63). This from so accomplished a scholar is a curious
instance of the difficulty which Frenchmen seem to feel in appreciating
quantity. To an English eye and ear which have been trained to classical
prosody the trochaic rhythm of, for instance, the Pastourelle quoted on p.
65, is unmistakable, and there are anapaestic metres to be found here and
there in early poems of the same kind. Indeed, all French poetry is easily
scanned quantitatively, though the usual authorities protest against such
scansion. Voltaire, it is said, took Turgot's hexameters for prose, and the
significance of this is the same whether the mistake, as is probable, was
mischievous or whether it was genuine.
FOOTNOTES:
[67] Leipsic, 1870.
[68] See note at end of chapter.
[69] This miscellaneous lyric for the most part awaits collection and publication.
M. G. Raynaud has given a valuable Bibliographie des Chansonniers Français
des XIIIe et XIVe siècles. 2 vols., Paris, 1884. Also a collection of motets. Paris,
1881.
[70] Philippe Mouskès. This is it:
La terre fut pis en cest an
Quar li vieux Quesnes estoit mors.
[71] The best edition is in Schéler's Trouvères Belges. Brussels, 1876.
[72] Rheims, 1851.
character, of the time—true poetical feeling, and a lively faculty of
invention and description. After Marie there was a tendency to approximate
the lai to the Provençal descort, and at last, as we have said, it acquired
rules and a form quite alien from those of its earlier examples. There is a
general though not a universal inclination to melancholy of subject in the
early lays, a few of which are anonymous.
Note to Third Edition.—M. Gaston Paris has expressed some surprise at my
remarks on metre (p. 63). This from so accomplished a scholar is a curious
instance of the difficulty which Frenchmen seem to feel in appreciating
quantity. To an English eye and ear which have been trained to classical
prosody the trochaic rhythm of, for instance, the Pastourelle quoted on p.
65, is unmistakable, and there are anapaestic metres to be found here and
there in early poems of the same kind. Indeed, all French poetry is easily
scanned quantitatively, though the usual authorities protest against such
scansion. Voltaire, it is said, took Turgot's hexameters for prose, and the
significance of this is the same whether the mistake, as is probable, was
mischievous or whether it was genuine.
FOOTNOTES:
[67] Leipsic, 1870.
[68] See note at end of chapter.
[69] This miscellaneous lyric for the most part awaits collection and publication.
M. G. Raynaud has given a valuable Bibliographie des Chansonniers Français
des XIIIe et XIVe siècles. 2 vols., Paris, 1884. Also a collection of motets. Paris,
1881.
[70] Philippe Mouskès. This is it:
La terre fut pis en cest an
Quar li vieux Quesnes estoit mors.
[71] The best edition is in Schéler's Trouvères Belges. Brussels, 1876.
[72] Rheims, 1851.
Page 104
[73] The most convenient place to look for Adam's history and work is Le
Théâtre Français au Moyen Age. Par Monmerqué et Michel. Paris, 1874. There
are also separate editions of him by Coussemaker, and more recently by A.
Rambeau. Marburg, 1886.
[74] By A. Jubinal. 2nd edition. 3 vols. Paris, 1874.
[75] Ed. Roquefort. 2 vols. Paris, 1820. The first volume contains the lays; the
later the fables, which have been noticed in the last chapter. Later edition,
Warnke. Halle, 1885. Marie also wrote a poem on the Purgatory of St. Patrick.
Three other lays, Tidorel, Gringamor, and Tiolet have been attributed to her, and
are printed in Romania, vol. viii.
[76] Lays of France, London, 1872.
Théâtre Français au Moyen Age. Par Monmerqué et Michel. Paris, 1874. There
are also separate editions of him by Coussemaker, and more recently by A.
Rambeau. Marburg, 1886.
[74] By A. Jubinal. 2nd edition. 3 vols. Paris, 1874.
[75] Ed. Roquefort. 2 vols. Paris, 1820. The first volume contains the lays; the
later the fables, which have been noticed in the last chapter. Later edition,
Warnke. Halle, 1885. Marie also wrote a poem on the Purgatory of St. Patrick.
Three other lays, Tidorel, Gringamor, and Tiolet have been attributed to her, and
are printed in Romania, vol. viii.
[76] Lays of France, London, 1872.
Page 105
CHAPTER VII.
SERIOUS AND ALLEGORICAL POETRY.
In consequence of the slowness with which prose was used for any regular
literary purpose in France, verse continued to do duty for it until a
comparatively late period in almost all departments of literature. By the
very earliest years of the twelfth century, and probably much earlier (though
we have no certain evidence of this latter fact), documents of all kinds
began to be written in verse of various forms. Among the earliest serious
verse that was written rank, as we might expect, verse chronicles. It was not
till 1200 at soonest that long translations from the Latin in French prose
were made, but such translations, and original works as well, were written
in French verse long before.
The rhymed Chronicles were numerous, but, with rare
exceptions, they cannot be said to be of any very great Verse Chronicles.
literary importance. Whether they were imitated directly
from the Chansons de Gestes, or vice versa, is a question which, as it
happens, can be settled without difficulty. For they are almost all in
octosyllabic couplets, a metre certainly later than the assonanced
decasyllabics of the earliest Chansons. The latter form and the somewhat
later dodecasyllable or Alexandrine are rarely used for Verse Chronicles, the
most remarkable exception being the spirited Combat des Trente[77], which
is however very late, and the Chronique de du Guesclin of the same date.
There are earlier examples of history in Alexandrines (some are found in
the twelfth century, such as the account of Henry the Second's Scotch Wars
by Jordan Fantome, Chancellor of the diocese of Winchester), but they are
not numerous or important. It is not unworthy of notice that the majority of
the early Verse Chronicles are English or Anglo-Norman. The first of
importance is that of Geoffrey Gaymar, whose Chronicle of English history
was written about 1146. Gaymar was followed by a much better known
writer, the Jerseyman Wace[78], who not only, as has been mentioned,
versified Geoffrey of Monmouth into the Brut[79], but produced the
SERIOUS AND ALLEGORICAL POETRY.
In consequence of the slowness with which prose was used for any regular
literary purpose in France, verse continued to do duty for it until a
comparatively late period in almost all departments of literature. By the
very earliest years of the twelfth century, and probably much earlier (though
we have no certain evidence of this latter fact), documents of all kinds
began to be written in verse of various forms. Among the earliest serious
verse that was written rank, as we might expect, verse chronicles. It was not
till 1200 at soonest that long translations from the Latin in French prose
were made, but such translations, and original works as well, were written
in French verse long before.
The rhymed Chronicles were numerous, but, with rare
exceptions, they cannot be said to be of any very great Verse Chronicles.
literary importance. Whether they were imitated directly
from the Chansons de Gestes, or vice versa, is a question which, as it
happens, can be settled without difficulty. For they are almost all in
octosyllabic couplets, a metre certainly later than the assonanced
decasyllabics of the earliest Chansons. The latter form and the somewhat
later dodecasyllable or Alexandrine are rarely used for Verse Chronicles, the
most remarkable exception being the spirited Combat des Trente[77], which
is however very late, and the Chronique de du Guesclin of the same date.
There are earlier examples of history in Alexandrines (some are found in
the twelfth century, such as the account of Henry the Second's Scotch Wars
by Jordan Fantome, Chancellor of the diocese of Winchester), but they are
not numerous or important. It is not unworthy of notice that the majority of
the early Verse Chronicles are English or Anglo-Norman. The first of
importance is that of Geoffrey Gaymar, whose Chronicle of English history
was written about 1146. Gaymar was followed by a much better known
writer, the Jerseyman Wace[78], who not only, as has been mentioned,
versified Geoffrey of Monmouth into the Brut[79], but produced the
Page 106
important Roman de Rou[80], giving the history of the Dukes of Normandy
and of the Conquest of England. The date of the Brut is 1155, of the Rou
1160. This latter is the better of the two, though Wace was not a great poet.
It consists chiefly of octosyllabics, with a curious insertion of Alexandrines
in rhymed not assonanced laisses. Wace was followed by Benoist de Sainte-
More, who extended his Chronicle of the Dukes of Normandy to more than
forty thousand verses. The 'Life of St. Thomas' (Becket), by Garnier de Pont
St. Maxence, also deserves notice, as does an anonymous poem on the
English wars in Ireland. But the most interesting of this group is probably
the history[81] of William Marshal, Earl of Pembroke, who died in 1219 and
who during his life played a great part in England. It abounds in passages of
historical interest and literary value. During the thirteenth and fourteenth
centuries, the practice of writing history in verse gradually died out, yet
some of the most important examples date from this time. Such are the
Chronicles of Philippe Mouskès[82], a Fleming, in more than thirty thousand
verses, extending from the Siege of Troy to the year 1243. Mouskès is of
some importance in literary history, because of the great extent to which he
has drawn on the Chansons de Gestes for his information. In 1304
Guillaume Guiart, a native of Orleans, wrote in twelve thousand verses a
Chronicle of the thirteenth century, including a few years earlier and later.
There are a large number of other Verse Chronicles, but few of them are of
much importance historically, and fewer still of any literary interest.
History, however, was by no means the only serious subject which took this
incongruous form in the middle ages. The amount of miscellaneous verse
written during the period between the end of the eleventh and the beginning
of the fifteenth century is indeed enormous. Only a very small portion of it
has ever been printed, and the mere summary description of the manuscripts
which contain it is as yet far from complete. If it be said generally that,
during the greater part of these three hundred years, the first impulse of any
one who wished to write, no matter on what subject, was to write in verse,
and that the popular notion of the want of literary tastes in the middle ages
is utterly mistaken, some idea may be formed of the vast extent of literature,
poetical in form, which was then produced. Much no doubt of this literature
is not in the least worthy of detailed notice; much, whether worthy or not,
must from mere considerations of space and proportion remain unnoticed
here. What is possible, is to indicate briefly the chief forms, authors, and
and of the Conquest of England. The date of the Brut is 1155, of the Rou
1160. This latter is the better of the two, though Wace was not a great poet.
It consists chiefly of octosyllabics, with a curious insertion of Alexandrines
in rhymed not assonanced laisses. Wace was followed by Benoist de Sainte-
More, who extended his Chronicle of the Dukes of Normandy to more than
forty thousand verses. The 'Life of St. Thomas' (Becket), by Garnier de Pont
St. Maxence, also deserves notice, as does an anonymous poem on the
English wars in Ireland. But the most interesting of this group is probably
the history[81] of William Marshal, Earl of Pembroke, who died in 1219 and
who during his life played a great part in England. It abounds in passages of
historical interest and literary value. During the thirteenth and fourteenth
centuries, the practice of writing history in verse gradually died out, yet
some of the most important examples date from this time. Such are the
Chronicles of Philippe Mouskès[82], a Fleming, in more than thirty thousand
verses, extending from the Siege of Troy to the year 1243. Mouskès is of
some importance in literary history, because of the great extent to which he
has drawn on the Chansons de Gestes for his information. In 1304
Guillaume Guiart, a native of Orleans, wrote in twelve thousand verses a
Chronicle of the thirteenth century, including a few years earlier and later.
There are a large number of other Verse Chronicles, but few of them are of
much importance historically, and fewer still of any literary interest.
History, however, was by no means the only serious subject which took this
incongruous form in the middle ages. The amount of miscellaneous verse
written during the period between the end of the eleventh and the beginning
of the fifteenth century is indeed enormous. Only a very small portion of it
has ever been printed, and the mere summary description of the manuscripts
which contain it is as yet far from complete. If it be said generally that,
during the greater part of these three hundred years, the first impulse of any
one who wished to write, no matter on what subject, was to write in verse,
and that the popular notion of the want of literary tastes in the middle ages
is utterly mistaken, some idea may be formed of the vast extent of literature,
poetical in form, which was then produced. Much no doubt of this literature
is not in the least worthy of detailed notice; much, whether worthy or not,
must from mere considerations of space and proportion remain unnoticed
here. What is possible, is to indicate briefly the chief forms, authors, and
Page 107
subjects, which fall under the heading of this chapter, and to give a
somewhat detailed account of the great serious poem of mediæval France,
the Roman de la Rose. Peculiarities of metre and so forth will be indicated
where it is necessary, but it may be said generally that the great mass of this
literature is in octosyllabic couplets.
It has already been observed in discussing the Fabliaux
that the first enquirers into old French literature were led Miscellaneous
Satirical Verse.
to include a very miscellaneous assortment of poems
under that head; and it may now be added that this miscellaneous
assortment with much else constitutes the farrago of the present chapter.
The two great poems of the Roman du Renart and the Roman de la Rose
stand as representatives of the more or less serious poetry of the time, and
everything else may be said to be included between them. Beginning
nearest to the Roman du Renart and its kindred Fabliaux, we find a vast
number of half-satirical styles of poetry, many, if not most of them, known
(according to what has been noted in the preface as characteristic of
mediaeval literature) by distinctive form-names. Of these dits and débats
have already been noticed, but it is not easy to give a notion of the number
of the existing examples, or of the extraordinary diversity of subjects to
which both, and especially the dits, extend. Perhaps some estimate may be
formed from the fact that the dits of three Flemish poets alone, Baudouin de
Condé, Jean de Condé, and Watriquet de Couvin, fill four stout octavo
volumes[83]. The subjects of these and of the large number of dits composed
by other writers and anonymous are almost innumerable. The earliest are
for the most part simple enumerations of the names of streets, of street
cries, of guilds, of coins, and such-like things. By degrees they become
more definitely didactic, and at last allegorical moralising masters them as
it does almost every other kind of poetry in the fourteenth century. The
débat, sometimes called dispute, or bataille, is an easily understood variety
of the dit. Rutebœuf's principal débat has been named; another in a less
serious spirit is that between Charlot et le Barbier. There is a Bataille des
Vins, a Bataille de Caréme et de Charnage, a Débat de l'Hiver et l'Été, etc.,
etc. Another name much used for half-satirical, half-didactic verse was that
of Bible, of which the most famous (probably because it was the first
known) is that of Guyot de Provins,—a violent onslaught on the powers that
somewhat detailed account of the great serious poem of mediæval France,
the Roman de la Rose. Peculiarities of metre and so forth will be indicated
where it is necessary, but it may be said generally that the great mass of this
literature is in octosyllabic couplets.
It has already been observed in discussing the Fabliaux
that the first enquirers into old French literature were led Miscellaneous
Satirical Verse.
to include a very miscellaneous assortment of poems
under that head; and it may now be added that this miscellaneous
assortment with much else constitutes the farrago of the present chapter.
The two great poems of the Roman du Renart and the Roman de la Rose
stand as representatives of the more or less serious poetry of the time, and
everything else may be said to be included between them. Beginning
nearest to the Roman du Renart and its kindred Fabliaux, we find a vast
number of half-satirical styles of poetry, many, if not most of them, known
(according to what has been noted in the preface as characteristic of
mediaeval literature) by distinctive form-names. Of these dits and débats
have already been noticed, but it is not easy to give a notion of the number
of the existing examples, or of the extraordinary diversity of subjects to
which both, and especially the dits, extend. Perhaps some estimate may be
formed from the fact that the dits of three Flemish poets alone, Baudouin de
Condé, Jean de Condé, and Watriquet de Couvin, fill four stout octavo
volumes[83]. The subjects of these and of the large number of dits composed
by other writers and anonymous are almost innumerable. The earliest are
for the most part simple enumerations of the names of streets, of street
cries, of guilds, of coins, and such-like things. By degrees they become
more definitely didactic, and at last allegorical moralising masters them as
it does almost every other kind of poetry in the fourteenth century. The
débat, sometimes called dispute, or bataille, is an easily understood variety
of the dit. Rutebœuf's principal débat has been named; another in a less
serious spirit is that between Charlot et le Barbier. There is a Bataille des
Vins, a Bataille de Caréme et de Charnage, a Débat de l'Hiver et l'Été, etc.,
etc. Another name much used for half-satirical, half-didactic verse was that
of Bible, of which the most famous (probably because it was the first
known) is that of Guyot de Provins,—a violent onslaught on the powers that
Page 108
were in Church and State by a discontented monk. An extract from it will
illustrate this division of the subject as well as anything else:—
Des fisicïens me merveil:
de lor huevre et de lor conseil
rai ge certes mont grant merveille,
nule vie ne s'apareille
a la lor, trop par est diverse
et sor totes autres perverse.
bien les nomme li communs nons;
mais je ne cuit qu'i ne soit hons
qui ne les doie mont douter.
il ne voudroient ja trover
nul home sanz aucun mehaing.
maint oingnement font e maint baing
ou il n'a ne senz ne raison,
cil eschape d'orde prison
qui de lor mains puet eschaper.
qui bien set mentir et guiler
et faire noble contenance,
tout ont trové fors la crëance
que les genz ont lor fait a bien.
tiex mil se font fisicïen
qui n'en sevent voir nes que gié.
li plus maistre sont mont changié
de grant ennui, n'il n'est mestiers
dont il soit tant de mençongiers.
il ocïent mont de la gent:
ja n'ont ne ami ne parent
que il volsissent trover sain;
de ce resont il trop vilain.
mont a d'ordure en ces lïens.
qui en main a fisicïens,
se met par els. il m'ont ëu
entre lor mains: onques ne fu,
ce cuit, nule plus orde vie.
je n'aim mie lor compaignie,
illustrate this division of the subject as well as anything else:—
Des fisicïens me merveil:
de lor huevre et de lor conseil
rai ge certes mont grant merveille,
nule vie ne s'apareille
a la lor, trop par est diverse
et sor totes autres perverse.
bien les nomme li communs nons;
mais je ne cuit qu'i ne soit hons
qui ne les doie mont douter.
il ne voudroient ja trover
nul home sanz aucun mehaing.
maint oingnement font e maint baing
ou il n'a ne senz ne raison,
cil eschape d'orde prison
qui de lor mains puet eschaper.
qui bien set mentir et guiler
et faire noble contenance,
tout ont trové fors la crëance
que les genz ont lor fait a bien.
tiex mil se font fisicïen
qui n'en sevent voir nes que gié.
li plus maistre sont mont changié
de grant ennui, n'il n'est mestiers
dont il soit tant de mençongiers.
il ocïent mont de la gent:
ja n'ont ne ami ne parent
que il volsissent trover sain;
de ce resont il trop vilain.
mont a d'ordure en ces lïens.
qui en main a fisicïens,
se met par els. il m'ont ëu
entre lor mains: onques ne fu,
ce cuit, nule plus orde vie.
je n'aim mie lor compaignie,
Page 109
si m'aït dex, qant je sui sains:
honiz est qui chiet en lor mains.
par foi, qant je malades fui,
moi covint soffrir lor ennui.
Testaments of the satirical kind, chiefly noteworthy for the brilliant use
which Villon made of the tradition of composing them, resveries and
fatrasies (nonsense poems with a more or less satirical drift), parodies of
the offices of the Church, of its sermons, of the miracle plays, are the chief
remaining divisions of the poetry which, under a light and scoffing
envelope, conceals a serious purpose.
Such things have at all times been composed in verse,
and the reason is sufficiently obvious. In the first place, Didactic verse.
the intention of the writers is to a certain extent masked, Philippe de Thaun.
and in the second, the reader's attention is attracted. But the middle ages by
no means confined the use of verse to such cases. Downright instruction
was, as often as not, the object of the verse writer in those days. The
earliest, and as such the most curious of didactic poems, are those of
Philippe de Thaun, an Englishman of Norman extraction, who wrote in the
first quarter of the twelfth century. His two works are a Comput, or
Chronological Treatise, dedicated to an uncle of his, who was chaplain to
Hugh Bigod, Earl of Norfolk, and a Bestiary, or Zoological Catalogue,
dedicated to Adela of Louvain, the wife of Henry the First. Written before
the vogue of the versified Arthurian Romances had consecrated the
octosyllable, these poems are in couplets of six syllables. Their great age,
and to a certain extent their literary merit, deserve an extract:—
Monosceros est beste,
un corn ad en la teste,
pur çeo ad si a nun.
de buc ele ad façun.
par pucele eat prise,
or oëz en quel guise,
quant hom le volt cacer
et prendre et enginner,
si vent horn al orest
u sis repaires est;
honiz est qui chiet en lor mains.
par foi, qant je malades fui,
moi covint soffrir lor ennui.
Testaments of the satirical kind, chiefly noteworthy for the brilliant use
which Villon made of the tradition of composing them, resveries and
fatrasies (nonsense poems with a more or less satirical drift), parodies of
the offices of the Church, of its sermons, of the miracle plays, are the chief
remaining divisions of the poetry which, under a light and scoffing
envelope, conceals a serious purpose.
Such things have at all times been composed in verse,
and the reason is sufficiently obvious. In the first place, Didactic verse.
the intention of the writers is to a certain extent masked, Philippe de Thaun.
and in the second, the reader's attention is attracted. But the middle ages by
no means confined the use of verse to such cases. Downright instruction
was, as often as not, the object of the verse writer in those days. The
earliest, and as such the most curious of didactic poems, are those of
Philippe de Thaun, an Englishman of Norman extraction, who wrote in the
first quarter of the twelfth century. His two works are a Comput, or
Chronological Treatise, dedicated to an uncle of his, who was chaplain to
Hugh Bigod, Earl of Norfolk, and a Bestiary, or Zoological Catalogue,
dedicated to Adela of Louvain, the wife of Henry the First. Written before
the vogue of the versified Arthurian Romances had consecrated the
octosyllable, these poems are in couplets of six syllables. Their great age,
and to a certain extent their literary merit, deserve an extract:—
Monosceros est beste,
un corn ad en la teste,
pur çeo ad si a nun.
de buc ele ad façun.
par pucele eat prise,
or oëz en quel guise,
quant hom le volt cacer
et prendre et enginner,
si vent horn al orest
u sis repaires est;
Page 110
la met une pucele
hors de sein sa mamele,
e par odurement
monosceros la sent;
dune vent a la pucele,
si baiset sa mamele,
en sun devant se dort,
issi vent a sa mort;
li hom survent atant,
ki l'ocit en dormant,
u trestut vif le prent,
si fait puis sun talent.
grant chose signefie,
ne larei nel vus die.
Monosceros griu est,
en franceis un-corn est:
beste de tel baillie
Jhesu Crist signefie;
un deu est e serat
e fud e parmaindrat;
en la virgine se mist,
e pur hom charn i prist,
e pur virginited,
pur mustrer casteed,
a virgine se parut
e virgine le conceut.
virgine est e serat
e tuz jurz parmaindrat.
ores oëz brefment
le signefïement.
Ceste beste en verté
nus signefie dé;
la virgine signefie,
sacez, sancte Marie;
par sa mamele entent
sancte eglise ensement;
e puis par le baiser
hors de sein sa mamele,
e par odurement
monosceros la sent;
dune vent a la pucele,
si baiset sa mamele,
en sun devant se dort,
issi vent a sa mort;
li hom survent atant,
ki l'ocit en dormant,
u trestut vif le prent,
si fait puis sun talent.
grant chose signefie,
ne larei nel vus die.
Monosceros griu est,
en franceis un-corn est:
beste de tel baillie
Jhesu Crist signefie;
un deu est e serat
e fud e parmaindrat;
en la virgine se mist,
e pur hom charn i prist,
e pur virginited,
pur mustrer casteed,
a virgine se parut
e virgine le conceut.
virgine est e serat
e tuz jurz parmaindrat.
ores oëz brefment
le signefïement.
Ceste beste en verté
nus signefie dé;
la virgine signefie,
sacez, sancte Marie;
par sa mamele entent
sancte eglise ensement;
e puis par le baiser
Page 111
çeo deit signefïer,
que hom quant il se dort
en semblance est de mort:
dés cum home dormi,
ki en cruiz mort sufri,
ert sa destructïun
nostre redemptïun,
e sun traveillement
nostre reposement.
si deceut dés dïable
par semblant cuvenable;
anme e cors sunt un,
issi fud dés et hum,
e içeo signefie
beste de tel baillie.
Bestiaries and Computs (the French title of the Chronologies) were for
some time the favourites with didactic verse writers, but before long the
whole encyclopædia, as it was then understood, was turned into verse.
Astrology, hunting, geography, law, medicine, history, the art of war, all had
their treatises; and latterly Trésors, or complete popular educators, as they
would be called nowadays, were composed, the best-known of which is that
of Walter of Metz in 1245.
All, or almost all, these works, written as they were in an
age sincerely pious, if somewhat grotesque in its piety, Moral and
Theological verse.
and theoretically moral, if somewhat loose in its
practice, contained not only abundant moralising, but also more or less
theology of the mystical kind. It would therefore have been strange if ethics
and theology themselves had wanted special exponents in verse. Before the
middle of the twelfth century Samson of Nanteuil (again an Englishman by
residence) had versified the Proverbs of Solomon, and in the latter half of
the same century vernacular lives of the saints begin to be numerous.
Perhaps the most popular of these was the legend of Barlaam and Josaphat,
of which the fullest poetical form has been left us by an English trouvère of
the thirteenth century named Chardry, by whom we have also a verse
rendering of the 'Seven Sleepers,' and some other poems[84]. Somewhat
earlier, Hermann of Valenciennes was a fertile author of this sort of work,
que hom quant il se dort
en semblance est de mort:
dés cum home dormi,
ki en cruiz mort sufri,
ert sa destructïun
nostre redemptïun,
e sun traveillement
nostre reposement.
si deceut dés dïable
par semblant cuvenable;
anme e cors sunt un,
issi fud dés et hum,
e içeo signefie
beste de tel baillie.
Bestiaries and Computs (the French title of the Chronologies) were for
some time the favourites with didactic verse writers, but before long the
whole encyclopædia, as it was then understood, was turned into verse.
Astrology, hunting, geography, law, medicine, history, the art of war, all had
their treatises; and latterly Trésors, or complete popular educators, as they
would be called nowadays, were composed, the best-known of which is that
of Walter of Metz in 1245.
All, or almost all, these works, written as they were in an
age sincerely pious, if somewhat grotesque in its piety, Moral and
Theological verse.
and theoretically moral, if somewhat loose in its
practice, contained not only abundant moralising, but also more or less
theology of the mystical kind. It would therefore have been strange if ethics
and theology themselves had wanted special exponents in verse. Before the
middle of the twelfth century Samson of Nanteuil (again an Englishman by
residence) had versified the Proverbs of Solomon, and in the latter half of
the same century vernacular lives of the saints begin to be numerous.
Perhaps the most popular of these was the legend of Barlaam and Josaphat,
of which the fullest poetical form has been left us by an English trouvère of
the thirteenth century named Chardry, by whom we have also a verse
rendering of the 'Seven Sleepers,' and some other poems[84]. Somewhat
earlier, Hermann of Valenciennes was a fertile author of this sort of work,
Page 112
composing a great Bible de Sapience or versification of the Old Testament,
and a large number of lives of saints. Of books of Eastern origin, one of the
most important was the Castoiement d'un Père à son Fils, which comes
from the Panchatantra, though not directly. The translated work had great
vogue, and set the example of other Castoiements or warnings. The monk
Helinand at the end of the twelfth century composed a poem on 'Death,' and
a vast number of similar poems might be mentioned. The commonest
perhaps of all is a dialogue Des trois Morts et des trois Vifs, which exists in
an astonishing number of variants. Gradually the tone of all this work
becomes more and more allegorical. Dreams, Mirrors, Castles, such as the
'Castle of Seven Flowers,' a poem on the virtues, make their appearance.
The question of the origin of this habit of allegorising
and personification is one which has been often Allegorical verse.
incidentally discussed by literary historians, but which
has never been exhaustively treated. It is certain that, at The Roman de la
a very early period in the middle ages, it makes its Rose.
appearance, though it is not in full flourishing until the thirteenth century. It
seems to have been a reflection in light literature of the same attitude of
mind which led to the development of the scholastic philosophy, and, as in
the case of that philosophy, Byzantine and Eastern influences may have
been at work. Certain it is that in some of the later Greek romances[85],
something very like the imagery of the Roman de la Rose is discoverable.
Perhaps, however, we need not look further than to the natural result of
leisure, mental activity, and literary skill, working upon a very small stock
of positive knowledge, and restrained by circumstances within a very
narrow range of employment. However this may be, the allegorising habit
manifests itself recognisably enough in French literature towards the close
of the twelfth century. In the Méraugis de Portlesguez of Raoul de
Houdenc, the passion for arguing out abstract questions of lovelore is
exemplified, and in the Roman des Eles of the same author the knightly
virtues are definitely personified, or at least allegorised. At the same time
some at all events of the Troubadours, especially Peire Wilhem, carried the
practice yet further. Merci, Pudeur, Loyauté, are introduced by that poet as
persons whom he met as he rode on his travels. In Thibaut de Champagne a
still further advance was made. The representative poem of this allegorical
literature, and moreover one of the most remarkable compositions furnished
and a large number of lives of saints. Of books of Eastern origin, one of the
most important was the Castoiement d'un Père à son Fils, which comes
from the Panchatantra, though not directly. The translated work had great
vogue, and set the example of other Castoiements or warnings. The monk
Helinand at the end of the twelfth century composed a poem on 'Death,' and
a vast number of similar poems might be mentioned. The commonest
perhaps of all is a dialogue Des trois Morts et des trois Vifs, which exists in
an astonishing number of variants. Gradually the tone of all this work
becomes more and more allegorical. Dreams, Mirrors, Castles, such as the
'Castle of Seven Flowers,' a poem on the virtues, make their appearance.
The question of the origin of this habit of allegorising
and personification is one which has been often Allegorical verse.
incidentally discussed by literary historians, but which
has never been exhaustively treated. It is certain that, at The Roman de la
a very early period in the middle ages, it makes its Rose.
appearance, though it is not in full flourishing until the thirteenth century. It
seems to have been a reflection in light literature of the same attitude of
mind which led to the development of the scholastic philosophy, and, as in
the case of that philosophy, Byzantine and Eastern influences may have
been at work. Certain it is that in some of the later Greek romances[85],
something very like the imagery of the Roman de la Rose is discoverable.
Perhaps, however, we need not look further than to the natural result of
leisure, mental activity, and literary skill, working upon a very small stock
of positive knowledge, and restrained by circumstances within a very
narrow range of employment. However this may be, the allegorising habit
manifests itself recognisably enough in French literature towards the close
of the twelfth century. In the Méraugis de Portlesguez of Raoul de
Houdenc, the passion for arguing out abstract questions of lovelore is
exemplified, and in the Roman des Eles of the same author the knightly
virtues are definitely personified, or at least allegorised. At the same time
some at all events of the Troubadours, especially Peire Wilhem, carried the
practice yet further. Merci, Pudeur, Loyauté, are introduced by that poet as
persons whom he met as he rode on his travels. In Thibaut de Champagne a
still further advance was made. The representative poem of this allegorical
literature, and moreover one of the most remarkable compositions furnished
Page 113
by the mediaeval period in France, is the Roman de la Rose[86]. It is
doubtful whether any other poem of such a length has ever attained a
popularity so wide and so enduring. The Roman de la Rose extends to more
than twenty thousand lines, and is written in a very peculiar style; yet it
maintained its vogue, not merely in France but throughout Europe, for
nearly three hundred years from the date of its commencement, and for
more than two hundred from that of its conclusion. The history of the
composition of the poem is singular. It was begun by William of Lorris, of
whom little or nothing is known, but whose work must, so far as it is easy
to make out, have been done before 1240, and is sometimes fixed at 1237.
This portion extends to 4670 lines, and ends quite abruptly. About forty
years later, Jean de Meung, or Clopinel, afterwards one of Philippe le Bel's
paid men of letters, continued it without preface, taking up William of
Lorris' cue, and extended it to 22,817 verses, preserving the metre and some
of the personages, but entirely altering the spirit of the treatment. The
importance of the poem requires that such brief analysis as space will allow
shall be given here. Its general import is sufficiently indicated by the
heading,—
Ci est le Rommant de la Rose
Où l'art d'amors est tote enclose;
though the rage for allegory induced its readers to moralise even its
allegorical character, and to indulge in various far-fetched explanations of
it. In the twentieth year of his age, the author says, he fell asleep and
dreamed a dream. He had left the city on a fair May morning, and walked
abroad till he came to a garden fenced in with a high wall. On the wall were
portrayed figures, Hatred, Félonnie, Villonie, Covetousness, Avarice, Envy,
Sadness, Old Age, Papelardie (Hypocrisy), Poverty—all of which are
described at length. He strives to enter in, and at last finds a barred wicket
at which he is admitted by Dame Oiseuse (Leisure), who tells him that
Déduit (Delight) and his company are within. He finds the company
dancing and singing, Dame Liesse (Enjoyment) being the chief songstress,
while Courtesy greets him and invites him to take part in the festival. The
god of love himself is then described, with many of his suite—Beauty,
Riches, etc. A further description of the garden leads to the fountain of
Narcissus, whose story is told at length. By this the author, who is
doubtful whether any other poem of such a length has ever attained a
popularity so wide and so enduring. The Roman de la Rose extends to more
than twenty thousand lines, and is written in a very peculiar style; yet it
maintained its vogue, not merely in France but throughout Europe, for
nearly three hundred years from the date of its commencement, and for
more than two hundred from that of its conclusion. The history of the
composition of the poem is singular. It was begun by William of Lorris, of
whom little or nothing is known, but whose work must, so far as it is easy
to make out, have been done before 1240, and is sometimes fixed at 1237.
This portion extends to 4670 lines, and ends quite abruptly. About forty
years later, Jean de Meung, or Clopinel, afterwards one of Philippe le Bel's
paid men of letters, continued it without preface, taking up William of
Lorris' cue, and extended it to 22,817 verses, preserving the metre and some
of the personages, but entirely altering the spirit of the treatment. The
importance of the poem requires that such brief analysis as space will allow
shall be given here. Its general import is sufficiently indicated by the
heading,—
Ci est le Rommant de la Rose
Où l'art d'amors est tote enclose;
though the rage for allegory induced its readers to moralise even its
allegorical character, and to indulge in various far-fetched explanations of
it. In the twentieth year of his age, the author says, he fell asleep and
dreamed a dream. He had left the city on a fair May morning, and walked
abroad till he came to a garden fenced in with a high wall. On the wall were
portrayed figures, Hatred, Félonnie, Villonie, Covetousness, Avarice, Envy,
Sadness, Old Age, Papelardie (Hypocrisy), Poverty—all of which are
described at length. He strives to enter in, and at last finds a barred wicket
at which he is admitted by Dame Oiseuse (Leisure), who tells him that
Déduit (Delight) and his company are within. He finds the company
dancing and singing, Dame Liesse (Enjoyment) being the chief songstress,
while Courtesy greets him and invites him to take part in the festival. The
god of love himself is then described, with many of his suite—Beauty,
Riches, etc. A further description of the garden leads to the fountain of
Narcissus, whose story is told at length. By this the author, who is
Page 114
thenceforth called the lover, sees and covets a rosebud. But thorns and
thistles bar his way to it, and the god of love pierces him with his arrows.
He does homage to the god, who accepts his service, and addresses a long
discourse to him on his future duties and conduct. The prospect somewhat
alarms him, when a new personage, Bel Acueil (Gracious Reception),
comes up and tenders his services to the lover, the god having disappeared.
Almost immediately, however, Dangier[87] makes his appearance, and
drives both the lover and Bel Acueil out of the garden. As the former is
bewailing his fate, Reason appears and remonstrates with him. He persists
in his desire, and parleys with Dangier, both directly and by ambassadors,
so that in the end he is brought back by Bel Acueil into the garden and
allowed to see but not to touch the rose. Venus comes to his aid, and he is
further allowed to kiss it. At this, however, Shame, Jealousy, and other evil
agents reproach Dangier. Bel Acueil is immured in a tower, and the lover is
once more driven forth.
Here the portion due to William of Lorris ends. Its main characteristics have
been indicated by this sketch, except that the extreme beauty and grace of
the lavish descriptions which enclose and adorn the somewhat
commonplace allegory perforce escape analysis. It is in these descriptions,
and in a certain tenderness and elegance of general thought and expression,
that the charm of the poem lies, and this is very considerable. The
deficiency of action, however, and the continual allegorising threaten to
make it monotonous had it been much longer continued in the same strain.
It is unlikely that it was this consideration which determined Jean de Meung
to adopt a different style. In his time literature was already agitated by
violent social, political, and religious debates, and the treasures of classical
learning were becoming more and more commonly known. But prose had
not yet become a common literary vehicle, save for history, oratory, and
romance, nor had the duty of treating one thing at a time yet impressed
itself strongly upon authors. Jean de Meung was satirically disposed, was
accomplished in all the learning of his day, and had strong political
opinions. He determined accordingly to make the poem of Lorris, which
was in all probability already popular, the vehicle of his thoughts.
In doing this he takes up the story as his predecessor had left it, at the point
where the lover, deprived of the support of Bel Acueil, and with the
thistles bar his way to it, and the god of love pierces him with his arrows.
He does homage to the god, who accepts his service, and addresses a long
discourse to him on his future duties and conduct. The prospect somewhat
alarms him, when a new personage, Bel Acueil (Gracious Reception),
comes up and tenders his services to the lover, the god having disappeared.
Almost immediately, however, Dangier[87] makes his appearance, and
drives both the lover and Bel Acueil out of the garden. As the former is
bewailing his fate, Reason appears and remonstrates with him. He persists
in his desire, and parleys with Dangier, both directly and by ambassadors,
so that in the end he is brought back by Bel Acueil into the garden and
allowed to see but not to touch the rose. Venus comes to his aid, and he is
further allowed to kiss it. At this, however, Shame, Jealousy, and other evil
agents reproach Dangier. Bel Acueil is immured in a tower, and the lover is
once more driven forth.
Here the portion due to William of Lorris ends. Its main characteristics have
been indicated by this sketch, except that the extreme beauty and grace of
the lavish descriptions which enclose and adorn the somewhat
commonplace allegory perforce escape analysis. It is in these descriptions,
and in a certain tenderness and elegance of general thought and expression,
that the charm of the poem lies, and this is very considerable. The
deficiency of action, however, and the continual allegorising threaten to
make it monotonous had it been much longer continued in the same strain.
It is unlikely that it was this consideration which determined Jean de Meung
to adopt a different style. In his time literature was already agitated by
violent social, political, and religious debates, and the treasures of classical
learning were becoming more and more commonly known. But prose had
not yet become a common literary vehicle, save for history, oratory, and
romance, nor had the duty of treating one thing at a time yet impressed
itself strongly upon authors. Jean de Meung was satirically disposed, was
accomplished in all the learning of his day, and had strong political
opinions. He determined accordingly to make the poem of Lorris, which
was in all probability already popular, the vehicle of his thoughts.
In doing this he takes up the story as his predecessor had left it, at the point
where the lover, deprived of the support of Bel Acueil, and with the
Page 115
suspicions of Dangier thoroughly aroused against him, lies despairing
without the walls of the delightful garden. Reason is once more introduced,
and protests as before, but in a different tone and much more lengthily. She
preaches the disadvantages of love in a speech nearly four hundred lines
long, followed by another double the length, and then by a dialogue in
which the lover takes his share. The difference of manner is felt at once.
The allegory is kept up after a fashion, but instead of the graceful fantasies
of William of Lorris, the staple matter is either sharp and satirical views of
actual life, or else examples drawn indifferently from sacred and profane
history. One speech of Reason's, a thousand lines in length, consists of a
collection of instances of this kind showing the mobility of fortune. At
length she leaves the lover as she found him, 'melancolieux et dolant,' but
unconvinced. Amis (the friend), who has appeared for a moment previously,
now reappears, and comforts him, also at great length, dwelling chiefly on
the ways of women, concerning which much scandal is talked. The scene
with Reason had occupied nearly two thousand lines; that with Amis
extends to double that length, so that Jean de Meung had already excelled
his predecessor in this respect. Profiting by the counsel he has received, the
lover addresses himself to Riches, who guards the way, but fruitlessly. The
god of love, however, takes pity on him (slightly ridiculing him for having
listened to Reason), and summons all his folk to attack the tower and free
Bel Acueil. Among these Faux Semblant presents himself, and, after some
parley, is received. This new personification of hypocrisy gives occasion to
some of the author's most satirical touches as he describes his principles and
practice. After this, Faux Semblant and his companion, Contrainte
Astenance (forced or feigned abstinence), set to work in favour of the lover,
and soon win their way into the tower. There they find an old woman who
acts as Bel Acueil's keeper. She takes a message from them to Bel Acueil,
and then engages in a singular conversation with her prisoner, wherein the
somewhat loose morality of the discourses of Amis is still further enforced
by historical examples, and by paraphrases of not a few passages from
Ovid. She afterward admits the lover, who thus, at nearly the sixteen-
thousandth line from the beginning, recovers through the help of False
Seeming the 'gracious reception' which is to lead him to the rose. The castle,
however, is not taken, and Dangier, with the rest of his allegorical company,
makes a stout resistance to 'Les Barons de L'Ost'—the lords of Love's army.
The god sends to invoke the aid of his mother, and this introduces a new
without the walls of the delightful garden. Reason is once more introduced,
and protests as before, but in a different tone and much more lengthily. She
preaches the disadvantages of love in a speech nearly four hundred lines
long, followed by another double the length, and then by a dialogue in
which the lover takes his share. The difference of manner is felt at once.
The allegory is kept up after a fashion, but instead of the graceful fantasies
of William of Lorris, the staple matter is either sharp and satirical views of
actual life, or else examples drawn indifferently from sacred and profane
history. One speech of Reason's, a thousand lines in length, consists of a
collection of instances of this kind showing the mobility of fortune. At
length she leaves the lover as she found him, 'melancolieux et dolant,' but
unconvinced. Amis (the friend), who has appeared for a moment previously,
now reappears, and comforts him, also at great length, dwelling chiefly on
the ways of women, concerning which much scandal is talked. The scene
with Reason had occupied nearly two thousand lines; that with Amis
extends to double that length, so that Jean de Meung had already excelled
his predecessor in this respect. Profiting by the counsel he has received, the
lover addresses himself to Riches, who guards the way, but fruitlessly. The
god of love, however, takes pity on him (slightly ridiculing him for having
listened to Reason), and summons all his folk to attack the tower and free
Bel Acueil. Among these Faux Semblant presents himself, and, after some
parley, is received. This new personification of hypocrisy gives occasion to
some of the author's most satirical touches as he describes his principles and
practice. After this, Faux Semblant and his companion, Contrainte
Astenance (forced or feigned abstinence), set to work in favour of the lover,
and soon win their way into the tower. There they find an old woman who
acts as Bel Acueil's keeper. She takes a message from them to Bel Acueil,
and then engages in a singular conversation with her prisoner, wherein the
somewhat loose morality of the discourses of Amis is still further enforced
by historical examples, and by paraphrases of not a few passages from
Ovid. She afterward admits the lover, who thus, at nearly the sixteen-
thousandth line from the beginning, recovers through the help of False
Seeming the 'gracious reception' which is to lead him to the rose. The castle,
however, is not taken, and Dangier, with the rest of his allegorical company,
makes a stout resistance to 'Les Barons de L'Ost'—the lords of Love's army.
The god sends to invoke the aid of his mother, and this introduces a new
Page 116
personage. Nature herself, and her confidant, Genius, are brought on the
scene, and nearly five thousand verses serve to convey all manner of
thoughts and scraps of learning, mostly devoted to the support, as before, of
questionably moral doctrines. In these five thousand lines almost all the
current ideas of the middle ages on philosophy and natural science are more
or less explicitly contained. Finally, Venus arrives and, with her burning
brand, drives out Dangier and his crew, though even at this crisis of the
action the writer cannot refrain from telling the story of Pygmalion and the
Image at length. The way being clear, the lover proceeds unmolested to
gather the longed-for rose.
It is impossible to exaggerate, and not easy to describe,
the popularity which this poem enjoyed. Its attacks on Popularity of the
womanhood and on morality generally provoked indeed Roman de la Rose.
not a few replies, of which the most important came long afterwards from
Christine de Pisan and from Gerson. But the general taste was entirely in
favour of it. Allegorical already, it was allegorised in fresh senses, even a
religious meaning being given to it. The numerous manuscripts which
remain of it attest its popularity before the days of printing. It was
frequently printed by the earliest typographers of France, and even in the
sixteenth century it received a fresh lease of life at the hands of Marot, who
re-edited it. Abroad it was praised by Petrarch and translated by
Chaucer[88]; and it is on the whole not too much to say that for fully two
centuries it was the favourite book in the vernacular literature of Europe.
Nor was it unworthy of this popularity. As has been pointed out, the grace
of the part due to William of Lorris is remarkable, and the satirical vigour of
the part due to Jean de Meung perhaps more remarkable still. The
allegorising and the length which repel readers of to-day did not disgust
generations whose favourite literary style was the allegorical, and who had
abundance of leisure; but the real secret of its vogue, as of all such vogues,
is that it faithfully held up the mirror to the later middle ages. In no single
book can that period of history be so conveniently studied. Its inherited
religion and its nascent free-thought; its thirst for knowledge and its lack of
criticism; its sharp social divisions and its indistinct aspirations after liberty
and equality; its traditional morality and asceticism, and its half-pagan,
half-childish relish for the pleasures of sense; its romance and its
coarseness, all its weakness and all its strength, here appear.
scene, and nearly five thousand verses serve to convey all manner of
thoughts and scraps of learning, mostly devoted to the support, as before, of
questionably moral doctrines. In these five thousand lines almost all the
current ideas of the middle ages on philosophy and natural science are more
or less explicitly contained. Finally, Venus arrives and, with her burning
brand, drives out Dangier and his crew, though even at this crisis of the
action the writer cannot refrain from telling the story of Pygmalion and the
Image at length. The way being clear, the lover proceeds unmolested to
gather the longed-for rose.
It is impossible to exaggerate, and not easy to describe,
the popularity which this poem enjoyed. Its attacks on Popularity of the
womanhood and on morality generally provoked indeed Roman de la Rose.
not a few replies, of which the most important came long afterwards from
Christine de Pisan and from Gerson. But the general taste was entirely in
favour of it. Allegorical already, it was allegorised in fresh senses, even a
religious meaning being given to it. The numerous manuscripts which
remain of it attest its popularity before the days of printing. It was
frequently printed by the earliest typographers of France, and even in the
sixteenth century it received a fresh lease of life at the hands of Marot, who
re-edited it. Abroad it was praised by Petrarch and translated by
Chaucer[88]; and it is on the whole not too much to say that for fully two
centuries it was the favourite book in the vernacular literature of Europe.
Nor was it unworthy of this popularity. As has been pointed out, the grace
of the part due to William of Lorris is remarkable, and the satirical vigour of
the part due to Jean de Meung perhaps more remarkable still. The
allegorising and the length which repel readers of to-day did not disgust
generations whose favourite literary style was the allegorical, and who had
abundance of leisure; but the real secret of its vogue, as of all such vogues,
is that it faithfully held up the mirror to the later middle ages. In no single
book can that period of history be so conveniently studied. Its inherited
religion and its nascent free-thought; its thirst for knowledge and its lack of
criticism; its sharp social divisions and its indistinct aspirations after liberty
and equality; its traditional morality and asceticism, and its half-pagan,
half-childish relish for the pleasures of sense; its romance and its
coarseness, all its weakness and all its strength, here appear.
Page 117
The imitations of the Roman de la Rose were in
proportion to its popularity. Much of this imitation took Imitations.
place in other kinds of poetry, which will be noticed
hereafter. Two poems, however, which are almost contemporary with its
earliest form, and which have only recently been published, deserve
mention. One, which is an obvious imitation of Guillaume de Lorris, but an
imitation of considerable merit, is the Roman de la Poire[89], where the
lover is besieged by Love in a tower. The other, of a different class, and free
from trace of direct imitation, is the short poem called De Venus la Déesse
d'Amors[90], written in some three hundred four-lined stanzas, each with one
rhyme only. Some passages of this latter are very beautiful.
Three extracts, two from the first part of the Roman de la Rose, and one
from the second, will show its style:—
En iceli tens déliteus,
Que tote riens d'amer s'esfroie,
Sonjai une nuit que j'estoie,
Ce m'iert avis en mon dormant,
Qu'il estoit matin durement;
De mon lit tantost me levai,
Chauçai-moi et mes mains lavai.
Lors trais une aguille d'argent
D'un aguiller mignot et gent,
Si pris l'aguille à enfiler.
Hors de vile oi talent d'aler,
Por oïr des oisiaus les sons
Qui chantoient par ces boissons
En icele saison novele;
Cousant mes manches à videle,
M'en alai tot seus esbatant,
Et les oiselés escoutant,
Qui de chanter moult s'engoissoient
Par ces vergiers qui florissoient,
Jolis, gais et pleins de léesce.
Vers une rivière m'adresce
Que j'oï près d'ilecques bruire.
proportion to its popularity. Much of this imitation took Imitations.
place in other kinds of poetry, which will be noticed
hereafter. Two poems, however, which are almost contemporary with its
earliest form, and which have only recently been published, deserve
mention. One, which is an obvious imitation of Guillaume de Lorris, but an
imitation of considerable merit, is the Roman de la Poire[89], where the
lover is besieged by Love in a tower. The other, of a different class, and free
from trace of direct imitation, is the short poem called De Venus la Déesse
d'Amors[90], written in some three hundred four-lined stanzas, each with one
rhyme only. Some passages of this latter are very beautiful.
Three extracts, two from the first part of the Roman de la Rose, and one
from the second, will show its style:—
En iceli tens déliteus,
Que tote riens d'amer s'esfroie,
Sonjai une nuit que j'estoie,
Ce m'iert avis en mon dormant,
Qu'il estoit matin durement;
De mon lit tantost me levai,
Chauçai-moi et mes mains lavai.
Lors trais une aguille d'argent
D'un aguiller mignot et gent,
Si pris l'aguille à enfiler.
Hors de vile oi talent d'aler,
Por oïr des oisiaus les sons
Qui chantoient par ces boissons
En icele saison novele;
Cousant mes manches à videle,
M'en alai tot seus esbatant,
Et les oiselés escoutant,
Qui de chanter moult s'engoissoient
Par ces vergiers qui florissoient,
Jolis, gais et pleins de léesce.
Vers une rivière m'adresce
Que j'oï près d'ilecques bruire.
Page 118
Car ne me soi aillors déduire
Plus bel que sus cele rivière.
D'un tertre qui près d'iluec ière
Descendoit l'iaue grant et roide,
Clere, bruiant et aussi froide
Comme puiz, ou comme fontaine,
Et estoit poi mendre de Saine,
Mès qu'ele iere plus espandue.
Onques mès n'avoie véue
Tele iaue qui si bien coroit:
Moult m'abelissoit et séoit
A regarder le leu plaisant.
De l'iaue clere et reluisant
Mon vis rafreschi et lavé.
Si vi tot covert et pavé
Le fons de l'iaue de gravele;
La praérie grant et bele
Très au pié de l'iaue batoit.
Clere et serie et bele estoit
La matinée et atemprée:
Lors m'en alai parmi la prée
Contreval l'iaue esbanoiant,
Tot le rivage costoiant.
* * * * * *
Une ymage ot emprès escrite,
Qui sembloit bien estre ypocrite,
Papelardie ert apelée.
C'est cele qui en recelée,
Quant nus ne s'en puet prendre garde,
De nul mal faire ne se tarde.
El fait dehors le marmiteus,
Si a le vis simple et piteus,
Et semble sainte créature;
Mais sous ciel n'a male aventure
Qu'ele ne pense en son corage.
Plus bel que sus cele rivière.
D'un tertre qui près d'iluec ière
Descendoit l'iaue grant et roide,
Clere, bruiant et aussi froide
Comme puiz, ou comme fontaine,
Et estoit poi mendre de Saine,
Mès qu'ele iere plus espandue.
Onques mès n'avoie véue
Tele iaue qui si bien coroit:
Moult m'abelissoit et séoit
A regarder le leu plaisant.
De l'iaue clere et reluisant
Mon vis rafreschi et lavé.
Si vi tot covert et pavé
Le fons de l'iaue de gravele;
La praérie grant et bele
Très au pié de l'iaue batoit.
Clere et serie et bele estoit
La matinée et atemprée:
Lors m'en alai parmi la prée
Contreval l'iaue esbanoiant,
Tot le rivage costoiant.
* * * * * *
Une ymage ot emprès escrite,
Qui sembloit bien estre ypocrite,
Papelardie ert apelée.
C'est cele qui en recelée,
Quant nus ne s'en puet prendre garde,
De nul mal faire ne se tarde.
El fait dehors le marmiteus,
Si a le vis simple et piteus,
Et semble sainte créature;
Mais sous ciel n'a male aventure
Qu'ele ne pense en son corage.
Page 119
Moult la ressembloit bien l'ymage
Qui faite fu à sa semblance,
Qu'el fu de simple contenance;
Et si fu chaucie et vestue
Tout ainsinc cum fame rendue.
En sa main un sautier tenoit,
Et sachiés que moult se penoit
De faire à Dieu prières faintes,
Et d'appeler et sains et saintes.
El ne fu gaie ne jolive,
Ains fu par semblant ententive
Du tout à bonnes ovres faire;
Et si avoit vestu la haire.
Et sachiés que n'iere pas grasse.
De jeuner sembloit estre lasse,
S'avoit la color pale et morte.
A li et as siens ert la porte
Dévéée de Paradis;
Car icel gent si font lor vis
Amegrir, ce dit l'Évangile,
Por avoir loz parmi la vile,
Et por un poi de gloire vaine,
Qui lor toldra Dieu et son raine.
* * * * * *
Comment le traistre Faulx-Semblant
Si va les cueurs des gens emblant,
Pour ses vestemens noirs et gris,
Et pour son viz pasle amaisgris.
'Trop sai bien mes habiz changier,
Prendre l'un, et l'autre estrangier.
Or sui chevaliers, or sui moines,
Or sui prélas, or sui chanoines,
Or sui clers, autre ore sui prestres,
Or sui desciples, or sui mestres,
Or chastelains, or forestiers:
Qui faite fu à sa semblance,
Qu'el fu de simple contenance;
Et si fu chaucie et vestue
Tout ainsinc cum fame rendue.
En sa main un sautier tenoit,
Et sachiés que moult se penoit
De faire à Dieu prières faintes,
Et d'appeler et sains et saintes.
El ne fu gaie ne jolive,
Ains fu par semblant ententive
Du tout à bonnes ovres faire;
Et si avoit vestu la haire.
Et sachiés que n'iere pas grasse.
De jeuner sembloit estre lasse,
S'avoit la color pale et morte.
A li et as siens ert la porte
Dévéée de Paradis;
Car icel gent si font lor vis
Amegrir, ce dit l'Évangile,
Por avoir loz parmi la vile,
Et por un poi de gloire vaine,
Qui lor toldra Dieu et son raine.
* * * * * *
Comment le traistre Faulx-Semblant
Si va les cueurs des gens emblant,
Pour ses vestemens noirs et gris,
Et pour son viz pasle amaisgris.
'Trop sai bien mes habiz changier,
Prendre l'un, et l'autre estrangier.
Or sui chevaliers, or sui moines,
Or sui prélas, or sui chanoines,
Or sui clers, autre ore sui prestres,
Or sui desciples, or sui mestres,
Or chastelains, or forestiers:
Page 120
Briément, ge sui de tous mestiers.
Or resui princes, or sui pages,
Or sai parler trestous langages;
Autre ore sui viex et chenus,
Or resui jones devenus.
Or sui Robers, or sui Robins,
Or cordeliers, or jacobins.
Si pren por sivre ma compaigne
Qui me solace et acompaigne,
(C'est dame Astenance-Contrainte),
Autre desguiséure mainte,
Si cum il li vient à plesir
Por acomplir le sien désir.
Autre ore vest robe de fame;
Or sui damoisele, or sui dame,
Autre ore sui religieuse,
Or sui rendue, or sui prieuse,
Or sui nonain, or sui abesse,
Or sui novice, or sui professe;
Et vois par toutes régions
Cerchant toutes religions. Mès de religion, sans faille,
G'en pren le grain et laiz la paille;
Por gens avulger i abit,
Ge n'en quier, sans plus, que l'abit.
Que vous diroie? en itel guise
Cum il me plaist ge me desguise;
Moult sunt en moi mué li vers,
Moult sunt li faiz aux diz divers.
Si fais chéoir dedans mes piéges
Le monde par mes priviléges;
Ge puis confesser et assoldre,
(Ce ne me puet nus prélas toldre,)
Toutes gens où que ge les truisse;
Ne sai prélat nul qui ce puisse,
Fors l'apostole solement
Qui fist cest establissement
Tout en la faveur de nostre ordre.'
Or resui princes, or sui pages,
Or sai parler trestous langages;
Autre ore sui viex et chenus,
Or resui jones devenus.
Or sui Robers, or sui Robins,
Or cordeliers, or jacobins.
Si pren por sivre ma compaigne
Qui me solace et acompaigne,
(C'est dame Astenance-Contrainte),
Autre desguiséure mainte,
Si cum il li vient à plesir
Por acomplir le sien désir.
Autre ore vest robe de fame;
Or sui damoisele, or sui dame,
Autre ore sui religieuse,
Or sui rendue, or sui prieuse,
Or sui nonain, or sui abesse,
Or sui novice, or sui professe;
Et vois par toutes régions
Cerchant toutes religions. Mès de religion, sans faille,
G'en pren le grain et laiz la paille;
Por gens avulger i abit,
Ge n'en quier, sans plus, que l'abit.
Que vous diroie? en itel guise
Cum il me plaist ge me desguise;
Moult sunt en moi mué li vers,
Moult sunt li faiz aux diz divers.
Si fais chéoir dedans mes piéges
Le monde par mes priviléges;
Ge puis confesser et assoldre,
(Ce ne me puet nus prélas toldre,)
Toutes gens où que ge les truisse;
Ne sai prélat nul qui ce puisse,
Fors l'apostole solement
Qui fist cest establissement
Tout en la faveur de nostre ordre.'
Page 121
FOOTNOTES:
[77] This is an account of the battle of thirty Englishmen and thirty Bretons in
the Edwardian wars.
[78] There is, it appears, no authority for the Christian name of Robert which
used to be given to Wace.
[79] Wace's Brut is not the only one. The title seems to have become a common
name.
[80] The old edition of the Roman de Rou, by Pluquet, has been entirely
superseded by that of Dr. Hugo Andresen. 2 vols. Heilbronn, 1877-1879.
[81] Discovered recently in the Middlehill collection, and known chiefly by an
article in Romania (Jan. 1882), giving an abstract and specimens.
[82] Ed. Reiffenberg. Brussels, 1835-1845.
[83] Ed. Schéler. Brussels, 1866-1868.
[84] Well edited by Koch. Heilbronn, 1879.
[85] See especially Hysminias and Hysmine.
[86] Ed. F. Michel. 2 vols. Paris, 1864.
[87] Dangier is not exactly 'danger.' To be 'en dangier de quelqu'un' is to be 'in
somebody's power.' Dangier is supposed to stand for the guardian of the
beloved, father, brother, husband, etc. This at least has been the usual
interpretation, and seems to me to be much the more probable. M. Gaston Paris,
however, and others, see in Dangier the natural coyness and resistance of the
beloved object, not any external influence.
[88] Chaucer's authorship of the existing translation has been denied. It is,
however, certain that he did translate the poem.
[89] Ed. Stehlich. Halle, 1881.
[90] Ed. Förster. Berne, 1880.
[77] This is an account of the battle of thirty Englishmen and thirty Bretons in
the Edwardian wars.
[78] There is, it appears, no authority for the Christian name of Robert which
used to be given to Wace.
[79] Wace's Brut is not the only one. The title seems to have become a common
name.
[80] The old edition of the Roman de Rou, by Pluquet, has been entirely
superseded by that of Dr. Hugo Andresen. 2 vols. Heilbronn, 1877-1879.
[81] Discovered recently in the Middlehill collection, and known chiefly by an
article in Romania (Jan. 1882), giving an abstract and specimens.
[82] Ed. Reiffenberg. Brussels, 1835-1845.
[83] Ed. Schéler. Brussels, 1866-1868.
[84] Well edited by Koch. Heilbronn, 1879.
[85] See especially Hysminias and Hysmine.
[86] Ed. F. Michel. 2 vols. Paris, 1864.
[87] Dangier is not exactly 'danger.' To be 'en dangier de quelqu'un' is to be 'in
somebody's power.' Dangier is supposed to stand for the guardian of the
beloved, father, brother, husband, etc. This at least has been the usual
interpretation, and seems to me to be much the more probable. M. Gaston Paris,
however, and others, see in Dangier the natural coyness and resistance of the
beloved object, not any external influence.
[88] Chaucer's authorship of the existing translation has been denied. It is,
however, certain that he did translate the poem.
[89] Ed. Stehlich. Halle, 1881.
[90] Ed. Förster. Berne, 1880.
Page 122
CHAPTER VIII.
ROMANS D'AVENTURES.
The remarkable fecundity of early French literature in
narrative poetry on the great scale was not limited to the Distinguishing
features of Romans
Chanson de Geste, the Arthurian Romance, and the d'Aventures.
classical story wrought into the likeness of one or the
other of these. Towards the end of the twelfth or the beginning of the
thirteenth century a new class of narrative poems arose, derived from each
and all of these kinds, but marked by important differences. The new form
immediately reacted on the forms which had given it birth, and produced
new Chansons de Gestes, new Arthurian Romances, and new classical
stories fashioned after its own image. This is what is called the Roman
d'Aventures, of which the first and main feature is open and almost avowed
fictitiousness, and the second the more or less complete abandonment of
any attempt at cyclic arrangement or subordination to a central theme.
Until quite recently it was not unusual to apply the term
Roman d'Aventures with less strictness, and to make it Looser application
of the term.
include the Romances of the Round Table. There can,
however, be no doubt that it is far better to adopt Jean
Bodel's three classes as distinguishing into separate Classes of Romans
d'Aventures.
groups the epic poetry of the eleventh and twelfth
centuries, and to restrict the title Romans d'Aventures to the later narrative
developments of the thirteenth and fourteenth. For the second
distinguishing mark which we have just indicated is striking and of more or
less universal application. In these later poems the ambition of the writer to
class his work under and with some precedent work is almost entirely
absent. He allows himself complete freedom, though he may sometimes, in
order to give his characters greater interest, connect them nominally with
some famous personage or event of the earlier cycles. This tendency to
shake off the shackles of cyclicism is early apparent. There are episodes
even in the Chansons de Gestes which have little or no reference to
Charlemagne or his peers: the Arthurian Romances in prose and verse
ROMANS D'AVENTURES.
The remarkable fecundity of early French literature in
narrative poetry on the great scale was not limited to the Distinguishing
features of Romans
Chanson de Geste, the Arthurian Romance, and the d'Aventures.
classical story wrought into the likeness of one or the
other of these. Towards the end of the twelfth or the beginning of the
thirteenth century a new class of narrative poems arose, derived from each
and all of these kinds, but marked by important differences. The new form
immediately reacted on the forms which had given it birth, and produced
new Chansons de Gestes, new Arthurian Romances, and new classical
stories fashioned after its own image. This is what is called the Roman
d'Aventures, of which the first and main feature is open and almost avowed
fictitiousness, and the second the more or less complete abandonment of
any attempt at cyclic arrangement or subordination to a central theme.
Until quite recently it was not unusual to apply the term
Roman d'Aventures with less strictness, and to make it Looser application
of the term.
include the Romances of the Round Table. There can,
however, be no doubt that it is far better to adopt Jean
Bodel's three classes as distinguishing into separate Classes of Romans
d'Aventures.
groups the epic poetry of the eleventh and twelfth
centuries, and to restrict the title Romans d'Aventures to the later narrative
developments of the thirteenth and fourteenth. For the second
distinguishing mark which we have just indicated is striking and of more or
less universal application. In these later poems the ambition of the writer to
class his work under and with some precedent work is almost entirely
absent. He allows himself complete freedom, though he may sometimes, in
order to give his characters greater interest, connect them nominally with
some famous personage or event of the earlier cycles. This tendency to
shake off the shackles of cyclicism is early apparent. There are episodes
even in the Chansons de Gestes which have little or no reference to
Charlemagne or his peers: the Arthurian Romances in prose and verse
Page 123
contain long digressions, holding but very loosely to the Table Round, such
as the adventures of Tristram and Percivale, and still more the singular
episode of Grimaud in the Saint Graal. As for the third class, the Trouvères
almost from the beginning assumed the greatest licence in their handling of
the classical legends. These accordingly were less affected than any others
by the change. It is possible to divide the Romans d'Aventures themselves
under the three headings. It is further possible to indicate a large class of
Chansons de Gestes over which the influence of the Roman d'Aventures has
passed. But the Chanson having a special formal peculiarity—the
assonanced or rhymed tirade—survived the new influence better than the
other two, and keeps its name, and to some extent its character, while the
Romances of Arthur and antiquity are simply lost in the general body of
tales of adventure. These tales are for the most part written in octosyllabic
couplets on the model of Chrestien, but a very few, such as Brun de la
Montaigne, imitate the exterior characteristics of the Chanson.
It is further to be noticed that while the earlier poems are mostly
anonymous, the Romans d'Aventures are generally, though not always,
signed, and bear characteristics of particular authorship. In some cases,
notably in those of Adenès le Roi and Raoul de Houdenc, we have a body
of work signed or otherwise identified, which enables us to attribute a
definite literary character and position to its authors. This, as we have
noted, is impossible in the case of the national epics, and not too easy in
that of the Arthurian Romances. Until quite recently however the Roman
d'Aventures has had less of the attention of editors than its forerunners, and
the works which compose the class are still to some extent unpublished.
Adenès or Adans le Roi perhaps derived his surname
from the function of king of the minstrels, if he Adenès le Roi.
performed it, at the court of Henry III, duke of Brabant.
He was, most likely, born in the second quarter of the thirteenth century,
and the last probable allusion to him which we have occurs in the year
1297. The events of his life are only known from his own poems, and
consist chiefly of travels in company with different princesses and princes
of Flanders and Brabant. His literary work is however of great importance.
It consists partly of refashionings of three Chansons de Gestes, Les
enfances Ogier, Berte aus grans Piés, and Bueves de Commarchis[91]. In
these three poems Adenès works up the old epics into the form fashionable
as the adventures of Tristram and Percivale, and still more the singular
episode of Grimaud in the Saint Graal. As for the third class, the Trouvères
almost from the beginning assumed the greatest licence in their handling of
the classical legends. These accordingly were less affected than any others
by the change. It is possible to divide the Romans d'Aventures themselves
under the three headings. It is further possible to indicate a large class of
Chansons de Gestes over which the influence of the Roman d'Aventures has
passed. But the Chanson having a special formal peculiarity—the
assonanced or rhymed tirade—survived the new influence better than the
other two, and keeps its name, and to some extent its character, while the
Romances of Arthur and antiquity are simply lost in the general body of
tales of adventure. These tales are for the most part written in octosyllabic
couplets on the model of Chrestien, but a very few, such as Brun de la
Montaigne, imitate the exterior characteristics of the Chanson.
It is further to be noticed that while the earlier poems are mostly
anonymous, the Romans d'Aventures are generally, though not always,
signed, and bear characteristics of particular authorship. In some cases,
notably in those of Adenès le Roi and Raoul de Houdenc, we have a body
of work signed or otherwise identified, which enables us to attribute a
definite literary character and position to its authors. This, as we have
noted, is impossible in the case of the national epics, and not too easy in
that of the Arthurian Romances. Until quite recently however the Roman
d'Aventures has had less of the attention of editors than its forerunners, and
the works which compose the class are still to some extent unpublished.
Adenès or Adans le Roi perhaps derived his surname
from the function of king of the minstrels, if he Adenès le Roi.
performed it, at the court of Henry III, duke of Brabant.
He was, most likely, born in the second quarter of the thirteenth century,
and the last probable allusion to him which we have occurs in the year
1297. The events of his life are only known from his own poems, and
consist chiefly of travels in company with different princesses and princes
of Flanders and Brabant. His literary work is however of great importance.
It consists partly of refashionings of three Chansons de Gestes, Les
enfances Ogier, Berte aus grans Piés, and Bueves de Commarchis[91]. In
these three poems Adenès works up the old epics into the form fashionable
Page 124
in his time, and as we possess the older versions of the first and last, the
comparison of the two forms affords a literary study of the highest interest.
His last, longest, and most important work is the Roman d'Aventures of
Cléomadès[92], a poem extending to 20,000 verses, and not less valuable for
its intrinsic merit than as a type of its class. Its popularity in the middle ages
was immense. Froissart gives it the place occupied in the Inferno by
Lancelot in his description of his declaration of love to his mistress, and
allusions to it under its second title of Le Cheval de Fust[93] are frequent.
The most prominent feature in the story is the introduction of a wooden
horse, like that known to everybody in the Arabian Nights, which, started
and guided by means of pegs, transports its rider whithersoever he will. Its
great length allows of a very long series of adventures, all of which are told
in spirited and flowing verse, though with considerable prolixity and a
certain abuse of stock descriptions. These two faults characterise all the
Romans d'Aventures and the Chansons which were remodelled in their
style. The merits of Cléomadès are not so universally found, but its extreme
length is not common. Few other Romans d'Aventures exceed 10,000 lines.
An extract from this poem will well illustrate the manner of this important
class of composition:—
Cleomadés vit un chastel
encoste un plain, tres fort et bel,
ou il ot mainte bele tour.
bos et rivieres vit entour,
vignes et praieries grans.
mult fu li chastiaus bien sëans.
la façon dou castel deïsse,
mais je dout mult que ne meïsse
trop longement au deviser:
pour ce m'en voel briément passer.
Du chastel vous dirai le non:
miols sëant ne vit aine nus hom,
lors l'apieloit on Chastel-noble.
n'ot tel dusque en Constantinoble,
ne de la dusque en Osterice
n'ot plus bel, plus fort ne plus rice.
carmans a cel point i estoit
comparison of the two forms affords a literary study of the highest interest.
His last, longest, and most important work is the Roman d'Aventures of
Cléomadès[92], a poem extending to 20,000 verses, and not less valuable for
its intrinsic merit than as a type of its class. Its popularity in the middle ages
was immense. Froissart gives it the place occupied in the Inferno by
Lancelot in his description of his declaration of love to his mistress, and
allusions to it under its second title of Le Cheval de Fust[93] are frequent.
The most prominent feature in the story is the introduction of a wooden
horse, like that known to everybody in the Arabian Nights, which, started
and guided by means of pegs, transports its rider whithersoever he will. Its
great length allows of a very long series of adventures, all of which are told
in spirited and flowing verse, though with considerable prolixity and a
certain abuse of stock descriptions. These two faults characterise all the
Romans d'Aventures and the Chansons which were remodelled in their
style. The merits of Cléomadès are not so universally found, but its extreme
length is not common. Few other Romans d'Aventures exceed 10,000 lines.
An extract from this poem will well illustrate the manner of this important
class of composition:—
Cleomadés vit un chastel
encoste un plain, tres fort et bel,
ou il ot mainte bele tour.
bos et rivieres vit entour,
vignes et praieries grans.
mult fu li chastiaus bien sëans.
la façon dou castel deïsse,
mais je dout mult que ne meïsse
trop longement au deviser:
pour ce m'en voel briément passer.
Du chastel vous dirai le non:
miols sëant ne vit aine nus hom,
lors l'apieloit on Chastel-noble.
n'ot tel dusque en Constantinoble,
ne de la dusque en Osterice
n'ot plus bel, plus fort ne plus rice.
carmans a cel point i estoit
Page 125
que Cleomadés vint la droit.
forment li sambloit li chastiaus
de toutes pars riches et biaus.
Cleomadés lors s'avisa
que viers le chastel se trera.
bien pensoit qu'en tel liu manoient
gent qui de grant afaire estoient.
che fu si qu'apriés l'ajournee
mult faisoit bele matinee,
car mais estoit nouviaus entrés:
c'est uns tans ki mult est amés
et de toutes gens conjoïs;
pour çou a non mais li jolis.
une tres grant tour haute et forte
avoit asés priés de la porte,
ki estoit couverte de plon,
plate deseure, car adon
les faisoit on ensi couvrir
pour engins et pour assallir.
Cleomadés a avisee
la tour ki estoit haute et lee;
lors pense qu'il s'arestera
sor cele tour tant qu'il savra,
se il puet, la certainité
quel païs c'est la verité.
lors a son cheval adrechié
viers la tour de marbre entaillié.
les chevilletes si tourna
que droit sour la tour aresta.
si coiement s'est avalés
que sour aighe coie vait nés.
Raoul de Houdenc is an earlier poet than Adenès, and Raoul de Houdenc.
represents the Roman d'Aventures in its infancy, when it
still found it necessary to attach itself to the great cycle of the Round Table.
His works, besides some shorter poems[94], consist of the Roman des Eles
(Ailes), a semi-allegorical composition, describing the wings and feathers
forment li sambloit li chastiaus
de toutes pars riches et biaus.
Cleomadés lors s'avisa
que viers le chastel se trera.
bien pensoit qu'en tel liu manoient
gent qui de grant afaire estoient.
che fu si qu'apriés l'ajournee
mult faisoit bele matinee,
car mais estoit nouviaus entrés:
c'est uns tans ki mult est amés
et de toutes gens conjoïs;
pour çou a non mais li jolis.
une tres grant tour haute et forte
avoit asés priés de la porte,
ki estoit couverte de plon,
plate deseure, car adon
les faisoit on ensi couvrir
pour engins et pour assallir.
Cleomadés a avisee
la tour ki estoit haute et lee;
lors pense qu'il s'arestera
sor cele tour tant qu'il savra,
se il puet, la certainité
quel païs c'est la verité.
lors a son cheval adrechié
viers la tour de marbre entaillié.
les chevilletes si tourna
que droit sour la tour aresta.
si coiement s'est avalés
que sour aighe coie vait nés.
Raoul de Houdenc is an earlier poet than Adenès, and Raoul de Houdenc.
represents the Roman d'Aventures in its infancy, when it
still found it necessary to attach itself to the great cycle of the Round Table.
His works, besides some shorter poems[94], consist of the Roman des Eles
(Ailes), a semi-allegorical composition, describing the wings and feathers
Page 126
of chivalry, that is to say, the great chivalrous virtues, among which Raoul,
like a herald as he was, gives Largesse the first place; of Méraugis de
Portlesguez, an important composition, possessing some marked
peculiarities of style; and possibly also of the Vengeance de Raguidel, in
which the author works out one of the innumerable unfinished episodes of
the great epic of Percevale. Thus Raoul de Houdenc occupies no mean
place in French literature, inasmuch as he indicates the starting-point of two
great branches, the Roman d'Aventures and the allegorical poem, and this at
a very early date. This date is not known exactly; but it was certainly before
1228, when the Trouvère Huon de Méry alludes to him, and classes him
with Chrestien as a master of French verse. He has in truth some very
noteworthy peculiarities. The chief of these, which must soon strike any
reader of Méraugis, is his tendency to enjambement or overlapping of
couplets. It is a curious feature in the history of French verse that the
isolation of the couplet has constantly recurred in its history, and that as
constantly reformers have striven to break up the monotony so produced by
this process of enjambement. Perhaps Raoul is the earliest who thus, as an
indignant critic put it at the first representation of Hernani, 'broke up verses,
and threw them out of window.' Besides this metrical characteristic, the
thing most noteworthy in his poems (as might indeed have been expected
from his composition of the Roman des Eles) is a tendency to allegorising,
and to scholastic disquisitions on points of amatory casuistry. The whole
plot of Méraugis indeed turns on the enquiry whether physical or
metaphysical love is the sincerest, and on the quarrel which a difference on
this point brings on between the hero and Gorvein Cadrus his friend and his
rival in the love of the fair Lidoine.
Many other Romans d'Aventures deserve mention, both
for their intrinsic merits and for the immense popularity Chief Romans
they once enjoyed. Foremost among these must be d'Aventures.
mentioned Partenopex de Blois[95] and Flore et Blanchefleur[96]. The
former (formerly ascribed to Denis Pyramus and now denied to him, but
said to date from the twelfth century) is a kind of modernised Cupid and
Psyche, except that Cupid's place is taken by the fairy Melior, and Psyche's
by the knight Parthenopeus or Parthenopex. This poem has great elegance
and freshness of style, and though the author is inclined to moralise (as a
near forerunner of the Roman de la Rose was bound to do), his moralisings
like a herald as he was, gives Largesse the first place; of Méraugis de
Portlesguez, an important composition, possessing some marked
peculiarities of style; and possibly also of the Vengeance de Raguidel, in
which the author works out one of the innumerable unfinished episodes of
the great epic of Percevale. Thus Raoul de Houdenc occupies no mean
place in French literature, inasmuch as he indicates the starting-point of two
great branches, the Roman d'Aventures and the allegorical poem, and this at
a very early date. This date is not known exactly; but it was certainly before
1228, when the Trouvère Huon de Méry alludes to him, and classes him
with Chrestien as a master of French verse. He has in truth some very
noteworthy peculiarities. The chief of these, which must soon strike any
reader of Méraugis, is his tendency to enjambement or overlapping of
couplets. It is a curious feature in the history of French verse that the
isolation of the couplet has constantly recurred in its history, and that as
constantly reformers have striven to break up the monotony so produced by
this process of enjambement. Perhaps Raoul is the earliest who thus, as an
indignant critic put it at the first representation of Hernani, 'broke up verses,
and threw them out of window.' Besides this metrical characteristic, the
thing most noteworthy in his poems (as might indeed have been expected
from his composition of the Roman des Eles) is a tendency to allegorising,
and to scholastic disquisitions on points of amatory casuistry. The whole
plot of Méraugis indeed turns on the enquiry whether physical or
metaphysical love is the sincerest, and on the quarrel which a difference on
this point brings on between the hero and Gorvein Cadrus his friend and his
rival in the love of the fair Lidoine.
Many other Romans d'Aventures deserve mention, both
for their intrinsic merits and for the immense popularity Chief Romans
they once enjoyed. Foremost among these must be d'Aventures.
mentioned Partenopex de Blois[95] and Flore et Blanchefleur[96]. The
former (formerly ascribed to Denis Pyramus and now denied to him, but
said to date from the twelfth century) is a kind of modernised Cupid and
Psyche, except that Cupid's place is taken by the fairy Melior, and Psyche's
by the knight Parthenopeus or Parthenopex. This poem has great elegance
and freshness of style, and though the author is inclined to moralise (as a
near forerunner of the Roman de la Rose was bound to do), his moralisings
Page 127
are gracefully and naively put. Flore et Blanchefleur is perhaps even
superior. Its theme is the love of a young Christian prince for a Saracen girl-
slave, who has been brought up with him. She is sold into a fresh captivity
to remove her from him, but he follows her and rescues her unharmed from
the harem of the Emir of Babylon. The delicacy of the handling is very
remarkable in this poem, and it has some links of connection with Aucassin
et Nicolette. Le Roman de Dolopathos[97] has a literary history of great
interest which we need not touch upon here. Its versification has more
vigour than that of almost any other Roman d'Aventures. Blancandin et
l'Orguilleuse d'Amour[98] is more promising at the beginning than in the
sequel. A young knight, hearing of the pride and coyness of a lady, accosts
and kisses her as she rides past with a great following of knights. Her
coldness is of course changed to love at first sight, and the audacious suitor
afterwards delivers her from her enemies; but the working out of the story is
rather dully managed. Brun de la Montaigne[99], as has been already
mentioned, is written in Chanson form, and deals with the famous Forest of
Broceliande in Britanny. Guillaume de Palerne[100] is a still more
interesting work. It introduces the favourite mediaeval idea of lycanthropy,
the hero being throughout helped and protected by a friendly were-wolf,
who is before the end of the poem freed from the enchantment to which he
is subjected. This Romance was early translated into English. Of the same
class is the Roman de l'Escouffle, where a hawk carries away the heroine's
ring, as in a well-known story of the Arabian Nights. Amadas et Idoine[101]
is one of the numerous histories of the success of a squire of low degree,
but is distinguished from most of them by the originality of its conception
and the vigour of its style. The scenes where the hero is recovered of his
madness by his beloved, and where, keeping guard over her tomb, he fights
with ghostly enemies, after a time of trial of his fidelity, and rescues her
from death, are unusually brilliant. Le Bel Inconnu[102], which (from a
curious misunderstanding of its older form Li Biaus Desconnus) occurs in
English form as Lybius Diasconus, tells the story of a son of Gawain and
the fairy with the white hands, and thus is one of the numerous secondary
Romances of the Round Table. So also is the long and interesting Roman du
Chevalier as Deux Espées[103]; this extends to more than 12,000 lines, and,
though the adventures recorded are of the ordinary Round Table pattern,
there is noticeable in it a better faculty of maintaining the interest and a
superior. Its theme is the love of a young Christian prince for a Saracen girl-
slave, who has been brought up with him. She is sold into a fresh captivity
to remove her from him, but he follows her and rescues her unharmed from
the harem of the Emir of Babylon. The delicacy of the handling is very
remarkable in this poem, and it has some links of connection with Aucassin
et Nicolette. Le Roman de Dolopathos[97] has a literary history of great
interest which we need not touch upon here. Its versification has more
vigour than that of almost any other Roman d'Aventures. Blancandin et
l'Orguilleuse d'Amour[98] is more promising at the beginning than in the
sequel. A young knight, hearing of the pride and coyness of a lady, accosts
and kisses her as she rides past with a great following of knights. Her
coldness is of course changed to love at first sight, and the audacious suitor
afterwards delivers her from her enemies; but the working out of the story is
rather dully managed. Brun de la Montaigne[99], as has been already
mentioned, is written in Chanson form, and deals with the famous Forest of
Broceliande in Britanny. Guillaume de Palerne[100] is a still more
interesting work. It introduces the favourite mediaeval idea of lycanthropy,
the hero being throughout helped and protected by a friendly were-wolf,
who is before the end of the poem freed from the enchantment to which he
is subjected. This Romance was early translated into English. Of the same
class is the Roman de l'Escouffle, where a hawk carries away the heroine's
ring, as in a well-known story of the Arabian Nights. Amadas et Idoine[101]
is one of the numerous histories of the success of a squire of low degree,
but is distinguished from most of them by the originality of its conception
and the vigour of its style. The scenes where the hero is recovered of his
madness by his beloved, and where, keeping guard over her tomb, he fights
with ghostly enemies, after a time of trial of his fidelity, and rescues her
from death, are unusually brilliant. Le Bel Inconnu[102], which (from a
curious misunderstanding of its older form Li Biaus Desconnus) occurs in
English form as Lybius Diasconus, tells the story of a son of Gawain and
the fairy with the white hands, and thus is one of the numerous secondary
Romances of the Round Table. So also is the long and interesting Roman du
Chevalier as Deux Espées[103]; this extends to more than 12,000 lines, and,
though the adventures recorded are of the ordinary Round Table pattern,
there is noticeable in it a better faculty of maintaining the interest and a
Page 128
completer mastery over episodes than usual. A still longer poem (also
belonging to what may be called the outer Arthurian cycle) is Durmart le
Gallois[104], which contains almost 16,000 verses. The loves of the hero and
Fenise, the Queen of Ireland, are somewhat lengthily handled; but there are
passages of merit, especially one most striking episode in which the hero,
riding through a forest by night, comes to a tree covered from top to bottom
with burning torches, while a shining naked child is enthroned on the
summit. These touches of mystical religion are rarer in the later Romans
d'Aventures than in the Arthurian Romances proper, but with them one of
the most remarkable elements of romance disappears. Philippe de Rémy,
Seigneur de Beaumanoir (who has other claims to literary distinction) is
held to be author of two Romans d'Aventures[105], La Manekine (the story
of the King of Hungary's daughter, who cut off her hand to save herself
from her father's incestuous passion) and Blonde d'Oxford, where a young
French squire carries off an English heiress. Joufrois de Poitiers[106], which
has not come down to us complete, is chiefly remarkable for the liveliness
of style with which adventures, in themselves tolerably hackneyed, are
handled. Other Romans d'Aventures, which are either as yet in manuscript
or of less importance, are Ille et Galeron and Eracle, both by Gautier
d'Arras, Cristal et Larie, La Dame à la Licorne, Guy de Warwike, Gérard
de Nevers or La Violette[107], Guillaume de Dole, Elédus et Séréna,
Florimont.
Like most kinds of mediaeval poetry, these Romans
d'Aventures have a very considerable likeness the one to General Character.
the other. It may indeed be said that they possess a
'common form' of certain incidents and situations, which reappear with
slight changes and omissions in all or most of them. Their besetting sins are
diffuseness and the recurrence of stock descriptions and images. On the
other hand, they have their peculiar merits. The harmony of their
versification is often very considerable; their language is supple,
picturesque, and varied, and the moral atmosphere which they breathe is
one of agreeable refinement and civilisation. In them perhaps is seen most
clearly the fanciful and graceful side of the state of things which we call
chivalry. Its mystical and transcendental sides are less vividly and
touchingly exhibited than in the older Arthurian Romances; and its higher
passions are also less dealt with. The Romans d'Aventures supply once
belonging to what may be called the outer Arthurian cycle) is Durmart le
Gallois[104], which contains almost 16,000 verses. The loves of the hero and
Fenise, the Queen of Ireland, are somewhat lengthily handled; but there are
passages of merit, especially one most striking episode in which the hero,
riding through a forest by night, comes to a tree covered from top to bottom
with burning torches, while a shining naked child is enthroned on the
summit. These touches of mystical religion are rarer in the later Romans
d'Aventures than in the Arthurian Romances proper, but with them one of
the most remarkable elements of romance disappears. Philippe de Rémy,
Seigneur de Beaumanoir (who has other claims to literary distinction) is
held to be author of two Romans d'Aventures[105], La Manekine (the story
of the King of Hungary's daughter, who cut off her hand to save herself
from her father's incestuous passion) and Blonde d'Oxford, where a young
French squire carries off an English heiress. Joufrois de Poitiers[106], which
has not come down to us complete, is chiefly remarkable for the liveliness
of style with which adventures, in themselves tolerably hackneyed, are
handled. Other Romans d'Aventures, which are either as yet in manuscript
or of less importance, are Ille et Galeron and Eracle, both by Gautier
d'Arras, Cristal et Larie, La Dame à la Licorne, Guy de Warwike, Gérard
de Nevers or La Violette[107], Guillaume de Dole, Elédus et Séréna,
Florimont.
Like most kinds of mediaeval poetry, these Romans
d'Aventures have a very considerable likeness the one to General Character.
the other. It may indeed be said that they possess a
'common form' of certain incidents and situations, which reappear with
slight changes and omissions in all or most of them. Their besetting sins are
diffuseness and the recurrence of stock descriptions and images. On the
other hand, they have their peculiar merits. The harmony of their
versification is often very considerable; their language is supple,
picturesque, and varied, and the moral atmosphere which they breathe is
one of agreeable refinement and civilisation. In them perhaps is seen most
clearly the fanciful and graceful side of the state of things which we call
chivalry. Its mystical and transcendental sides are less vividly and
touchingly exhibited than in the older Arthurian Romances; and its higher
passions are also less dealt with. The Romans d'Aventures supply once
Page 129
more, according to the Aristotelian definition, an Odyssey to the Arthurian
Iliad; they are complex and deal with manners. Nor ought it to be omitted
that, though they constantly handle questions of gallantry, and though their
uniform theme is love, the language employed on these subjects is almost
invariably delicate, and such as would not fail to satisfy even modern
standards of propriety. The courtesy which was held to be so great a
knightly virtue, if it was not sufficient to ensure a high standard of morality
in conduct, at any rate secured such a standard in matter of expression. In
this respect the Court literature of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries
stands in very remarkable contrast to that which was tolerated, if not
preferred, from the time of Louis the Eleventh until the reign of his
successor fourteenth of the name.
Reference has already been made to the influence which
these poems had on the Chansons de Gestes. Few of the Last Chansons.
Baudouin de
later developments of these are worth much attention, Sebourc.
but what may be called the last original Chanson
deserves some notice. Baudouin de Sebourc[108] and its sequel the Bastard
of Bouillon[109] worthily close this great division of literature, and, setting
as they do a finish to the sub-cycle of the Chevalier au Cygne, hardly lose
except in simplicity by comparison with its magnificent opening in the
Chanson d'Antioche. They contain together some 33,000 verses, and the
scene changes freely. It is sometimes in Syria, where the Crusaders fight
against the infidel, sometimes in France and Flanders, where Baudouin has
adventures of all kinds, comic and chivalrous, sometimes on the sea, where
among other things the favourite mediaeval legend of St. Brandan's Isle is
brought in. Not a little of its earlier part shows the sarcastic spirit common
at the date of its composition, the beginning of the fourteenth century. The
length of the two poems is enormous, as has been said; but, putting two or
three masterpieces aside, no poem of mediaeval times has a more varied
and livelier interest than Baudouin de Sebourc, and few breathe the genuine
Chanson spirit of pugnacious piety better than Le Bastart de Bouillon.
FOOTNOTES:
[91] Ed. Schéler. Brussels, v. d.
Iliad; they are complex and deal with manners. Nor ought it to be omitted
that, though they constantly handle questions of gallantry, and though their
uniform theme is love, the language employed on these subjects is almost
invariably delicate, and such as would not fail to satisfy even modern
standards of propriety. The courtesy which was held to be so great a
knightly virtue, if it was not sufficient to ensure a high standard of morality
in conduct, at any rate secured such a standard in matter of expression. In
this respect the Court literature of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries
stands in very remarkable contrast to that which was tolerated, if not
preferred, from the time of Louis the Eleventh until the reign of his
successor fourteenth of the name.
Reference has already been made to the influence which
these poems had on the Chansons de Gestes. Few of the Last Chansons.
Baudouin de
later developments of these are worth much attention, Sebourc.
but what may be called the last original Chanson
deserves some notice. Baudouin de Sebourc[108] and its sequel the Bastard
of Bouillon[109] worthily close this great division of literature, and, setting
as they do a finish to the sub-cycle of the Chevalier au Cygne, hardly lose
except in simplicity by comparison with its magnificent opening in the
Chanson d'Antioche. They contain together some 33,000 verses, and the
scene changes freely. It is sometimes in Syria, where the Crusaders fight
against the infidel, sometimes in France and Flanders, where Baudouin has
adventures of all kinds, comic and chivalrous, sometimes on the sea, where
among other things the favourite mediaeval legend of St. Brandan's Isle is
brought in. Not a little of its earlier part shows the sarcastic spirit common
at the date of its composition, the beginning of the fourteenth century. The
length of the two poems is enormous, as has been said; but, putting two or
three masterpieces aside, no poem of mediaeval times has a more varied
and livelier interest than Baudouin de Sebourc, and few breathe the genuine
Chanson spirit of pugnacious piety better than Le Bastart de Bouillon.
FOOTNOTES:
[91] Ed. Schéler. Brussels, v. d.
Page 130
[92] Ed. van Hasselt. Brussels, 1866.
[93] The wooden horse.
[94] The Songe d'Enfer and the Voie de Paradis, published by Jubinal, as the
Roman des Eles has been by Schéler, Méraugis by Michelant, and the Vengeance
de Raguidel by Hippeau.
[95] Ed. Crapelet. Paris, 1834.
[96] Ed. Du Méril. Paris, 1856.
[97] Ed. Brunet et Montaiglon. Paris, 1856.
[98] Ed. Michelant. Paris, 1867.
[99] Ed. Meyer. Paris, 1875.
[100] Ed. Michelant. Paris, 1876.
[101] Ed. Hippeau. Paris, 1863.
[102] Ed. Hippeau. Paris, 1860.
[103] Ed. Förster. Halle, 1877.
[104] Ed. Stengel. Tübingen, 1873.
[105] Both edited in extract by Bordier. Paris, 1869. Complete edition begun by
Suchier. Paris, 1884.
[106] Ed. Hofmann and Muncker. Halle, 1880.
[107] Ed. Michel.
[108] Ed. Boca. 2 vols. Valenciennes, 1841.
[109] Ed. Schéler. Brussels, 1877.
[93] The wooden horse.
[94] The Songe d'Enfer and the Voie de Paradis, published by Jubinal, as the
Roman des Eles has been by Schéler, Méraugis by Michelant, and the Vengeance
de Raguidel by Hippeau.
[95] Ed. Crapelet. Paris, 1834.
[96] Ed. Du Méril. Paris, 1856.
[97] Ed. Brunet et Montaiglon. Paris, 1856.
[98] Ed. Michelant. Paris, 1867.
[99] Ed. Meyer. Paris, 1875.
[100] Ed. Michelant. Paris, 1876.
[101] Ed. Hippeau. Paris, 1863.
[102] Ed. Hippeau. Paris, 1860.
[103] Ed. Förster. Halle, 1877.
[104] Ed. Stengel. Tübingen, 1873.
[105] Both edited in extract by Bordier. Paris, 1869. Complete edition begun by
Suchier. Paris, 1884.
[106] Ed. Hofmann and Muncker. Halle, 1880.
[107] Ed. Michel.
[108] Ed. Boca. 2 vols. Valenciennes, 1841.
[109] Ed. Schéler. Brussels, 1877.
Page 131
CHAPTER IX.
LATER SONGS AND POEMS.
Not the least important division of early French
literature, in point of bulk and peculiarity, though not The Artificial
Forms of Northern
always the most important in point of literary France.
excellence, consists of the later lyrical and
miscellaneous poems of the fourteenth and early fifteenth centuries. By the
end of the thirteenth century the chief original developments had lost their
first vigour, while, on the other hand, the influence of the regular forms of
Provençal poetry had had time to make itself fully felt. There arose in
consequence, in northern France, a number of artificial forms, the origin
and date of which is somewhat obscure, but which rapidly attained great
popularity, and which continued for fully two centuries almost to
monopolise the attention of poets who did not devote themselves to
narrative. These forms, the Ballade, the Rondeau, the Virelai, etc., have
already been alluded to as making their appearance among the later growths
of early lyrical poetry. They must now be treated in the abundant
development which they received at the hands of a series of poets from
Lescurel to Charles d'Orléans.
The principle underlying all these forms is the same, that
is to say, the substitution for the half-articulate refrain of General Character.
Varieties.
the early Romances, of a refrain forming part of the
sense, and repeated with strict regularity at the end or in the middle of
stanzas rigidly corresponding in length and constitution. In at least two
cases, the lai and the pastourelle, the names of earlier and less rigidly exact
forms were borrowed for the newer schemes; but the more famous and
prevailing models[110], the Ballade, with its modification the Chant Royal,
and the Rondel, with its modifications the Rondeau and the Triolet, are new.
It has been customary to see in the adoption of these forms a sign of
decadence; but this can hardly be sustained in face of the fact that, in
Charles d'Orléans and Villon respectively, the Rondel and the Ballade were
LATER SONGS AND POEMS.
Not the least important division of early French
literature, in point of bulk and peculiarity, though not The Artificial
Forms of Northern
always the most important in point of literary France.
excellence, consists of the later lyrical and
miscellaneous poems of the fourteenth and early fifteenth centuries. By the
end of the thirteenth century the chief original developments had lost their
first vigour, while, on the other hand, the influence of the regular forms of
Provençal poetry had had time to make itself fully felt. There arose in
consequence, in northern France, a number of artificial forms, the origin
and date of which is somewhat obscure, but which rapidly attained great
popularity, and which continued for fully two centuries almost to
monopolise the attention of poets who did not devote themselves to
narrative. These forms, the Ballade, the Rondeau, the Virelai, etc., have
already been alluded to as making their appearance among the later growths
of early lyrical poetry. They must now be treated in the abundant
development which they received at the hands of a series of poets from
Lescurel to Charles d'Orléans.
The principle underlying all these forms is the same, that
is to say, the substitution for the half-articulate refrain of General Character.
Varieties.
the early Romances, of a refrain forming part of the
sense, and repeated with strict regularity at the end or in the middle of
stanzas rigidly corresponding in length and constitution. In at least two
cases, the lai and the pastourelle, the names of earlier and less rigidly exact
forms were borrowed for the newer schemes; but the more famous and
prevailing models[110], the Ballade, with its modification the Chant Royal,
and the Rondel, with its modifications the Rondeau and the Triolet, are new.
It has been customary to see in the adoption of these forms a sign of
decadence; but this can hardly be sustained in face of the fact that, in
Charles d'Orléans and Villon respectively, the Rondel and the Ballade were
Page 132
the occasion of poetry far surpassing in vigour and in grace all preceding
work of the kind, and also in presence of the service which the sonnet—a
form almost if not quite as artificial—has notoriously done to poetry. It may
be admitted, however, that the practitioners of the Ballade and the Rondeau
soon fell into puerile and inartistic over-refinements. The forms of Ballade
known as Équivoquée, Fratrisée, Couronnée, etc., culminating in the
preposterous Emperière, are monuments of tasteless ingenuity which cannot
be surpassed in their kind, and they have accordingly perished. But both in
France and in England the Ballade itself and a few other forms have
retained popularity at intervals, and have at the present day broken out into
fresh and vigorous life.
The chief authors of these pieces during the period we
are discussing were Jehannot de Lescurel, Guillaume de Jehannot de
Machault, Eustache Deschamps, Jean Froissart, Lescurel.
Christine de Pisan, Alain Chartier, and Charles
d'Orléans. Besides these there were many others, though Guillaume
Machault.
de
the epoch of the Hundred Years' War was not altogether
fertile in lighter poetry or poetry of any kind. Jehannot
Eustache
de Lescurel[111] is one of those poets of whom absolutely Deschamps
nothing is known. His very name has only survived in
the general syllabus of contents of the manuscript which contains his works,
and which is in this part incomplete. The thirty-three poems—sixteen
Ballades, fifteen Rondeaus[112], and two nondescript pieces—which exist
are of singular grace, lightness, and elegance. They cannot be later and are
probably earlier than the middle of the fourteenth century, and thus they are
anterior to most of the work of the school. Guillaume de Machault was a
person sufficiently before the world, and his work is very voluminous. As
usual with all these poets, it contains many details of its author's life, and
enables us to a certain extent to construct that life out of these indications.
Machault was probably born about 1284, and may not have died till 1377. A
native of Champagne and of noble birth, he early entered, like most of the
lesser nobility of the period, the service of great feudal lords. He was
chamberlain to Philip the Fair, and at his death became the secretary of John
of Luxembourg, the well-known king of Bohemia. After the death of this
prince at Cressy, he returned to the service of the court of France and served
John and Charles V., finally, as it appears, becoming in some way connected
work of the kind, and also in presence of the service which the sonnet—a
form almost if not quite as artificial—has notoriously done to poetry. It may
be admitted, however, that the practitioners of the Ballade and the Rondeau
soon fell into puerile and inartistic over-refinements. The forms of Ballade
known as Équivoquée, Fratrisée, Couronnée, etc., culminating in the
preposterous Emperière, are monuments of tasteless ingenuity which cannot
be surpassed in their kind, and they have accordingly perished. But both in
France and in England the Ballade itself and a few other forms have
retained popularity at intervals, and have at the present day broken out into
fresh and vigorous life.
The chief authors of these pieces during the period we
are discussing were Jehannot de Lescurel, Guillaume de Jehannot de
Machault, Eustache Deschamps, Jean Froissart, Lescurel.
Christine de Pisan, Alain Chartier, and Charles
d'Orléans. Besides these there were many others, though Guillaume
Machault.
de
the epoch of the Hundred Years' War was not altogether
fertile in lighter poetry or poetry of any kind. Jehannot
Eustache
de Lescurel[111] is one of those poets of whom absolutely Deschamps
nothing is known. His very name has only survived in
the general syllabus of contents of the manuscript which contains his works,
and which is in this part incomplete. The thirty-three poems—sixteen
Ballades, fifteen Rondeaus[112], and two nondescript pieces—which exist
are of singular grace, lightness, and elegance. They cannot be later and are
probably earlier than the middle of the fourteenth century, and thus they are
anterior to most of the work of the school. Guillaume de Machault was a
person sufficiently before the world, and his work is very voluminous. As
usual with all these poets, it contains many details of its author's life, and
enables us to a certain extent to construct that life out of these indications.
Machault was probably born about 1284, and may not have died till 1377. A
native of Champagne and of noble birth, he early entered, like most of the
lesser nobility of the period, the service of great feudal lords. He was
chamberlain to Philip the Fair, and at his death became the secretary of John
of Luxembourg, the well-known king of Bohemia. After the death of this
prince at Cressy, he returned to the service of the court of France and served
John and Charles V., finally, as it appears, becoming in some way connected
Page 133
with Pierre de Lusignan, king of Cyprus. His works were very numerous,
amounting in all to some 80,000 lines, of which until recently nothing but a
few extracts was in print. In the last few years, however, La Prise
d'Alexandrie[113], a rhymed chronicle of the exploits of Lusignan, and the
Voir Dit[114], a curious love poem in the style of the age, have been printed.
Besides these his works include numerous ballades, etc., and several long
poems in the style of those of Froissart, shortly to be described. On the
other hand, the works of Eustache Deschamps, which are even more
voluminous than those of Machault, his friend and master, are almost
wholly composed of short pieces, with one notable exception, the Miroir de
Mariage, a poem of 13,000 lines[115]. Deschamps has left no less than 1175
ballades, and as the ballade usually contains twenty-four lines at least, and
frequently thirty-four, this of itself gives a formidable total. Rondeaus,
virelais, etc., also proceeded in great numbers from his pen; and he wrote an
important 'Art of Poetry,' a treatise rendered at once necessary and popular
by the fashion of artificial rhyming. The life of Deschamps was less varied
than that of Machault, whose inferior he was in point of birth, but he held
some important offices in his native province, Champagne. Both
Deschamps and Machault exhibit strongly the characteristics of the time.
Their ballades are for the most part either moral or occasional in subject,
and rarely display signs of much attention to elegance of phraseology or to
weight and value of thought. In the enormous volume of their works,
amounting in all to nearly 200,000 lines, and as yet mostly unpublished,
there is to be found much that is of interest indirectly, but less of intrinsic
poetical worth. The artificial forms in which they for the most part write
specially invite elegance of expression, point, and definiteness of thought,
qualities in which both, but especially Deschamps, are too often deficient.
When, for instance, we find the poet in his anxiety to discourage swearing,
filling, in imitation of two bad poets of his time, one, if not two ballades[116]
with a list of the chief oaths in use, it is difficult not to lament the lack of
critical spirit displayed.
Froissart, though inferior to Lescurel, and though far less
remarkable as a poet than as a prose writer, can fairly Froissart.
hold his own with Deschamps and Machault, while he
has the advantage of being easily accessible[117]. The later part of his life
having been given up to history, he is not quite so voluminous in verse as
amounting in all to some 80,000 lines, of which until recently nothing but a
few extracts was in print. In the last few years, however, La Prise
d'Alexandrie[113], a rhymed chronicle of the exploits of Lusignan, and the
Voir Dit[114], a curious love poem in the style of the age, have been printed.
Besides these his works include numerous ballades, etc., and several long
poems in the style of those of Froissart, shortly to be described. On the
other hand, the works of Eustache Deschamps, which are even more
voluminous than those of Machault, his friend and master, are almost
wholly composed of short pieces, with one notable exception, the Miroir de
Mariage, a poem of 13,000 lines[115]. Deschamps has left no less than 1175
ballades, and as the ballade usually contains twenty-four lines at least, and
frequently thirty-four, this of itself gives a formidable total. Rondeaus,
virelais, etc., also proceeded in great numbers from his pen; and he wrote an
important 'Art of Poetry,' a treatise rendered at once necessary and popular
by the fashion of artificial rhyming. The life of Deschamps was less varied
than that of Machault, whose inferior he was in point of birth, but he held
some important offices in his native province, Champagne. Both
Deschamps and Machault exhibit strongly the characteristics of the time.
Their ballades are for the most part either moral or occasional in subject,
and rarely display signs of much attention to elegance of phraseology or to
weight and value of thought. In the enormous volume of their works,
amounting in all to nearly 200,000 lines, and as yet mostly unpublished,
there is to be found much that is of interest indirectly, but less of intrinsic
poetical worth. The artificial forms in which they for the most part write
specially invite elegance of expression, point, and definiteness of thought,
qualities in which both, but especially Deschamps, are too often deficient.
When, for instance, we find the poet in his anxiety to discourage swearing,
filling, in imitation of two bad poets of his time, one, if not two ballades[116]
with a list of the chief oaths in use, it is difficult not to lament the lack of
critical spirit displayed.
Froissart, though inferior to Lescurel, and though far less
remarkable as a poet than as a prose writer, can fairly Froissart.
hold his own with Deschamps and Machault, while he
has the advantage of being easily accessible[117]. The later part of his life
having been given up to history, he is not quite so voluminous in verse as
Page 134
his two predecessors. Yet, if the attribution to him of the Cour d' Amour and
the Trésor Amoureux be correct, he has left some 40,000 or 50,000 lines.
The bulk of his work consists of long poems in the allegorical courtship of
the time, interspersed with shorter lyrical pieces in the prevailing forms.
One of these poems, the Buisson de Jonece, is interesting because of its
autobiographical details; and some shorter pieces approaching more nearly
to the Fabliau style, Le Dit du Florin, Le Débat du Cheval et du Lévrier,
etc., are sprightly and agreeable enough. For the most part, however,
Froissart's poems, like almost all the poems of the period, suffer from the
disproportion of their length to their matter. If the romances of the time,
which are certainly not destitute of incident, be tedious from the
superabundance of prolix description, much more tedious are these recitals
of hyperbolical passion tricked out with all the already stale allegorical
imagery of the Roman de la Rose and with inappropriate erudition of the
fashion which Jean de Meung had confirmed, if he did not set it.
Christine de Pisan, who was born in 1363, was a pupil of
Deschamps, as Deschamps had been a pupil of Christine de Pisan.
Machault. She was an industrious writer, a learned
person, and a good patriot, but not by any means a great poetess. So at least
it would appear, though here again judgment has to be formed on
fragments, a complete edition of Christine never having been published,
and even her separate poems being unprinted for the most part, or printed
only in extract. Besides a collection of Ballades, Rondeaux, and so forth,
she wrote several Dits (the Dit de la Pastoure, the Dit de Poissy, the Dittié
de Jeanne d'Arc, and some Dits Moraux), besides a Mutation de Fortune, a
Livre des Cent Histoires de Troie, etc., etc.
Alain Chartier, who was born in or about 1390, and who
died in 1458, is best known by the famous story of Alain Chartier.
Margaret of Scotland, queen of France, herself an
industrious poetess, stooping to kiss his poetical lips as he lay asleep. He
also awaits a modern editor. Like Froissart, he devoted himself to
allegorical and controversial love poems, and like Christine to moral verse.
In the former he attained to considerable skill, and a ballade, which will
presently be given, will show his command of dignified expression. On the
whole he may be said to be the most complete example of the scholarliness
which tended more and more to characterise French poetry at this time, and
the Trésor Amoureux be correct, he has left some 40,000 or 50,000 lines.
The bulk of his work consists of long poems in the allegorical courtship of
the time, interspersed with shorter lyrical pieces in the prevailing forms.
One of these poems, the Buisson de Jonece, is interesting because of its
autobiographical details; and some shorter pieces approaching more nearly
to the Fabliau style, Le Dit du Florin, Le Débat du Cheval et du Lévrier,
etc., are sprightly and agreeable enough. For the most part, however,
Froissart's poems, like almost all the poems of the period, suffer from the
disproportion of their length to their matter. If the romances of the time,
which are certainly not destitute of incident, be tedious from the
superabundance of prolix description, much more tedious are these recitals
of hyperbolical passion tricked out with all the already stale allegorical
imagery of the Roman de la Rose and with inappropriate erudition of the
fashion which Jean de Meung had confirmed, if he did not set it.
Christine de Pisan, who was born in 1363, was a pupil of
Deschamps, as Deschamps had been a pupil of Christine de Pisan.
Machault. She was an industrious writer, a learned
person, and a good patriot, but not by any means a great poetess. So at least
it would appear, though here again judgment has to be formed on
fragments, a complete edition of Christine never having been published,
and even her separate poems being unprinted for the most part, or printed
only in extract. Besides a collection of Ballades, Rondeaux, and so forth,
she wrote several Dits (the Dit de la Pastoure, the Dit de Poissy, the Dittié
de Jeanne d'Arc, and some Dits Moraux), besides a Mutation de Fortune, a
Livre des Cent Histoires de Troie, etc., etc.
Alain Chartier, who was born in or about 1390, and who
died in 1458, is best known by the famous story of Alain Chartier.
Margaret of Scotland, queen of France, herself an
industrious poetess, stooping to kiss his poetical lips as he lay asleep. He
also awaits a modern editor. Like Froissart, he devoted himself to
allegorical and controversial love poems, and like Christine to moral verse.
In the former he attained to considerable skill, and a ballade, which will
presently be given, will show his command of dignified expression. On the
whole he may be said to be the most complete example of the scholarliness
which tended more and more to characterise French poetry at this time, and
Page 135
which too often degenerated into pedantry. Chartier is the first considerable
writer of original work who Latinises much; and his practice in this respect
was eagerly followed by the rhétoriqueur school both in prose and verse.
He himself observed due measure in it; but in the hands of his successors it
degraded French to an almost Macaronic jargon.
In all the earlier work of this school not a little grace and elegance is
discoverable, and this quality manifests itself most strongly in the poet who
may be regarded as closing the strictly mediaeval series, Charles
d'Orléans[118]. The life of this poet has been frequently told. As far as we are
concerned it falls into three divisions. In the first, when after his father's
death he held the position of a great feudal prince almost independent of
royal control, it is not recorded that he produced any literary work. His long
captivity in England was more fruitful, and during it he wrote both in
French and in English. But the last five-and-twenty years of his life, when
he lived quietly and kept court at Blois (bringing about him the literary men
of the time from Bouciqualt to Villon, and engaging with them in poetical
tournaments), were the most productive. His undoubted work is not large,
but the pieces which compose it are among the best of their kind. He is
fond, in the allegorical language of the time, of alluding to his having 'put
his house in the government of Nonchaloir,' and chosen that personage for
his master and protector. There is thus little fervency of passion about him,
but rather a graceful and somewhat indolent dallying with the subjects he
treats. Few early French poets are better known than Charles d'Orléans, and
few deserve their popularity better. His Rondeaux on the approach of
spring, on the coming of summer and such-like subjects, deserve the very
highest praise for delicate fancy and formal skill.
Of poets of less importance, or whose names have not been preserved, the
amount of this formal poetry which remains to us is considerable. The best-
known collection of such work is the Livre des Cent Ballades[119], believed,
on tolerably satisfactory evidence, to have been composed by the famous
knight-errant Bouciqualt and his companions on their way to the fatal battle
of Nicopolis. Before, however, the fifteenth century was far advanced,
poetry of this formal kind fell into the hands of professional authors in the
strictest sense, Grands Rhétoriqueurs as they were called, who, as a later
critic said of almost the last of them, 'lost all the grace and elegance of the
composition' in their elaborate rules and the pedantic language which they
writer of original work who Latinises much; and his practice in this respect
was eagerly followed by the rhétoriqueur school both in prose and verse.
He himself observed due measure in it; but in the hands of his successors it
degraded French to an almost Macaronic jargon.
In all the earlier work of this school not a little grace and elegance is
discoverable, and this quality manifests itself most strongly in the poet who
may be regarded as closing the strictly mediaeval series, Charles
d'Orléans[118]. The life of this poet has been frequently told. As far as we are
concerned it falls into three divisions. In the first, when after his father's
death he held the position of a great feudal prince almost independent of
royal control, it is not recorded that he produced any literary work. His long
captivity in England was more fruitful, and during it he wrote both in
French and in English. But the last five-and-twenty years of his life, when
he lived quietly and kept court at Blois (bringing about him the literary men
of the time from Bouciqualt to Villon, and engaging with them in poetical
tournaments), were the most productive. His undoubted work is not large,
but the pieces which compose it are among the best of their kind. He is
fond, in the allegorical language of the time, of alluding to his having 'put
his house in the government of Nonchaloir,' and chosen that personage for
his master and protector. There is thus little fervency of passion about him,
but rather a graceful and somewhat indolent dallying with the subjects he
treats. Few early French poets are better known than Charles d'Orléans, and
few deserve their popularity better. His Rondeaux on the approach of
spring, on the coming of summer and such-like subjects, deserve the very
highest praise for delicate fancy and formal skill.
Of poets of less importance, or whose names have not been preserved, the
amount of this formal poetry which remains to us is considerable. The best-
known collection of such work is the Livre des Cent Ballades[119], believed,
on tolerably satisfactory evidence, to have been composed by the famous
knight-errant Bouciqualt and his companions on their way to the fatal battle
of Nicopolis. Before, however, the fifteenth century was far advanced,
poetry of this formal kind fell into the hands of professional authors in the
strictest sense, Grands Rhétoriqueurs as they were called, who, as a later
critic said of almost the last of them, 'lost all the grace and elegance of the
composition' in their elaborate rules and the pedantic language which they
Page 136
employed. The complete decadence of poetry in which this resulted will be
treated partly in the summary following the present book, partly in the first
chapter of the book which succeeds it.
Meanwhile this frail but graceful poetry may be illustrated by an irregular
Ballade from Lescurel, a Chanson Balladée from Machault, a Virelai from
Deschamps, a Ballade from Chartier, and a Rondel from Charles d'Orléans.
Jehannot de Lescurel.
Amour, voules-vous acorder
Que je muire pour bien amer?
Vo vouloir m'esteut agreer;
Mourir ne puis plus doucement;
Vraiement,
Amours, faciez voustre talent.
Trop de mauvais portent endurer
Pour celi que j'aim sanz fausser
N'est pas par li, au voir parler,
Ains est par mauparliere gent.
Loiaument,
Amours, faciez voustre talent.
Dous amis, plus ne puis durer
Quant ne puis ne n'os regarder
Vostre doue vis, riant et cler.
Mort, alegez mon grief torment;
Ou, briefment,
Amours, faciez voustre talent.
Guillaume de Machault.
Onques si bonne journee
Ne fu adjournee,
Com quant je me departi
De ma dame desiree
treated partly in the summary following the present book, partly in the first
chapter of the book which succeeds it.
Meanwhile this frail but graceful poetry may be illustrated by an irregular
Ballade from Lescurel, a Chanson Balladée from Machault, a Virelai from
Deschamps, a Ballade from Chartier, and a Rondel from Charles d'Orléans.
Jehannot de Lescurel.
Amour, voules-vous acorder
Que je muire pour bien amer?
Vo vouloir m'esteut agreer;
Mourir ne puis plus doucement;
Vraiement,
Amours, faciez voustre talent.
Trop de mauvais portent endurer
Pour celi que j'aim sanz fausser
N'est pas par li, au voir parler,
Ains est par mauparliere gent.
Loiaument,
Amours, faciez voustre talent.
Dous amis, plus ne puis durer
Quant ne puis ne n'os regarder
Vostre doue vis, riant et cler.
Mort, alegez mon grief torment;
Ou, briefment,
Amours, faciez voustre talent.
Guillaume de Machault.
Onques si bonne journee
Ne fu adjournee,
Com quant je me departi
De ma dame desiree
Page 137
A qui j'ay donnee
M'amour, & le cuer de mi.
Car la manne descendi
Et douceur aussi,
Par quoi m'ame saoulee
Fu dou fruit de Dous ottri,
Que Pite cueilli
En sa face coulouree.
La fu bien l'onnour gardee
De la renommee
De son cointe corps joli;
Qu'onques villeine pensee
Ne fu engendree
Ne nee entre moy & li.
Onques si bonne journee, &c.
Souffisance m'enrichi
Et Plaisance si,
Qu'onques creature nee
N'ot le cuer si assevi,
N'a mains de sousci,
Ne joie si affinee.
Car la deesse honnouree
Qui fait l'assemblee
D'amours, d'amie & d'ami,
Coppa le chief de s'espee
Qui est bien tempree,
A Dangier, mon anemi.
Onques si bonne journee, &c.
Ma dame l'enseveli
Et Amours, par fi
Que sa mort fust tost plouree.
N'onques Honneur ne souffri
(Dont je l'en merci)
Que messe li fu chantee.
M'amour, & le cuer de mi.
Car la manne descendi
Et douceur aussi,
Par quoi m'ame saoulee
Fu dou fruit de Dous ottri,
Que Pite cueilli
En sa face coulouree.
La fu bien l'onnour gardee
De la renommee
De son cointe corps joli;
Qu'onques villeine pensee
Ne fu engendree
Ne nee entre moy & li.
Onques si bonne journee, &c.
Souffisance m'enrichi
Et Plaisance si,
Qu'onques creature nee
N'ot le cuer si assevi,
N'a mains de sousci,
Ne joie si affinee.
Car la deesse honnouree
Qui fait l'assemblee
D'amours, d'amie & d'ami,
Coppa le chief de s'espee
Qui est bien tempree,
A Dangier, mon anemi.
Onques si bonne journee, &c.
Ma dame l'enseveli
Et Amours, par fi
Que sa mort fust tost plouree.
N'onques Honneur ne souffri
(Dont je l'en merci)
Que messe li fu chantee.
Page 138
Sa charongne trainee
Fu sans demouree
En un lieu dont on dit: fi!
S'en fu ma joie doublee,
Quant Honneur l'entree
Ot dou tresor de merci.
Onques si bonne journee, &c.
Eustache Deschamps.
Sui-je, sui-je, sui-je belle?
Il me semble, a mon avis,
Que j'ay beau front et doulz viz,
Et la bouche vermeilette;
Dictes moy se je sui belle.
J'ay vers yeulx, petit sourcis,
Le chief blont, le nez traitis,
Ront menton, blanche gorgette;
Sui-je, sui-je, sui-je belle, etc.
J'ay dur sain et hault assis,
Lons bras, gresles doys aussis,
Et, par le faulx, sui greslette;
Dictes moy se je sui belle.
J'ay piez rondes et petiz,
Bien chaussans, et biaux habis,
Je sui gaye et foliette;
Dictes moy se je sui belle.
J'ay mantiaux fourrez de gris,
J'ay chapiaux, j'ay biaux proffis,
Et d'argent mainte espinglette;
Sui-je, sui-je, sui-je belle?
J'ay draps de soye, et tabis,
J'ay draps d'or, et blanc et bis,
Fu sans demouree
En un lieu dont on dit: fi!
S'en fu ma joie doublee,
Quant Honneur l'entree
Ot dou tresor de merci.
Onques si bonne journee, &c.
Eustache Deschamps.
Sui-je, sui-je, sui-je belle?
Il me semble, a mon avis,
Que j'ay beau front et doulz viz,
Et la bouche vermeilette;
Dictes moy se je sui belle.
J'ay vers yeulx, petit sourcis,
Le chief blont, le nez traitis,
Ront menton, blanche gorgette;
Sui-je, sui-je, sui-je belle, etc.
J'ay dur sain et hault assis,
Lons bras, gresles doys aussis,
Et, par le faulx, sui greslette;
Dictes moy se je sui belle.
J'ay piez rondes et petiz,
Bien chaussans, et biaux habis,
Je sui gaye et foliette;
Dictes moy se je sui belle.
J'ay mantiaux fourrez de gris,
J'ay chapiaux, j'ay biaux proffis,
Et d'argent mainte espinglette;
Sui-je, sui-je, sui-je belle?
J'ay draps de soye, et tabis,
J'ay draps d'or, et blanc et bis,
Page 139
J'ay mainte bonne chosette;
Dictes moy se je sui belle.
Que quinze ans n'ay, je vous dis;
Moult est mes tresors jolys,
S'en garderay la clavette;
Sui-je, sui-je, sui-je belle?
Bien devra estre hardis
Cilz, qui sera mes amis,
Qui ora tel damoiselle;
Dictes moy se je sui belle?
Et par dieu, je li plevis,
Que tres loyal, se je vis,
Li seray, si ne chancelle;
Sui-je, sui-je, sui-je belle?
Se courtois est et gentilz,
Vaillains, apers, bien apris,
Il gaignera sa querelle;
Dictes moy se je sui belle.
C'est uns mondains paradiz
Que d'avoir dame toudiz,
Ainsi fresche, ainsi nouvelle;
Sui-je, sui-je, sui-je belle?
Entre vous, acouardiz,
Pensez a ce que je diz;
Cy fine ma chansonnelle;
Sui-je, sui-je, sui-je belle?
Alain Chartier.
O folz des folz, et les folz mortelz hommes,
Qui vous fiez tant es biens de fortune
En celle terre, es pays ou nous sommes,
Dictes moy se je sui belle.
Que quinze ans n'ay, je vous dis;
Moult est mes tresors jolys,
S'en garderay la clavette;
Sui-je, sui-je, sui-je belle?
Bien devra estre hardis
Cilz, qui sera mes amis,
Qui ora tel damoiselle;
Dictes moy se je sui belle?
Et par dieu, je li plevis,
Que tres loyal, se je vis,
Li seray, si ne chancelle;
Sui-je, sui-je, sui-je belle?
Se courtois est et gentilz,
Vaillains, apers, bien apris,
Il gaignera sa querelle;
Dictes moy se je sui belle.
C'est uns mondains paradiz
Que d'avoir dame toudiz,
Ainsi fresche, ainsi nouvelle;
Sui-je, sui-je, sui-je belle?
Entre vous, acouardiz,
Pensez a ce que je diz;
Cy fine ma chansonnelle;
Sui-je, sui-je, sui-je belle?
Alain Chartier.
O folz des folz, et les folz mortelz hommes,
Qui vous fiez tant es biens de fortune
En celle terre, es pays ou nous sommes,
Page 140
Y avez-vous de chose propre aucune?
Vous n'y avez chose vostre nes-une,
Fors les beaulx dons de grace et de nature.
Se Fortune donc, par cas d'adventur
Vous toult les biens que vostres vous tenez,
Tort ne vous fait, aincois vous fait droicture,
Car vous n'aviez riens quant vous fustes nez.
Ne laissez plus le dormir a grans sommes
En vostre lict, par nuict obscure et brune,
Pour acquester richesses a grans sommes.
Ne convoitez chose dessoubz la lune,
Ne de Paris jusques a Pampelune,
Fors ce qui fault, sans plus, a creature
Pour recouvrer sa simple nourriture.
Souffise vous d'estre bien renommez,
Et d'emporter bon loz en sepulture:
Car vous n'aviez riens quant vous fustes nez.
Les joyeulx fruictz des arbres, et les pommes,
Au temps que fut toute chose commune,
Le beau miel, les glandes et les gommes
Souffisoient bien a chascun et chascune:
Et pour ce fut sans noise et sans rancune.
Soyez contens des chaulx et des froidures,
Et me prenez Fortune doulce et seure.
Pour vos pertes, griefve dueil n'en menez,
Fors a raison, a point, et a mesure,
Car vous n'aviez riens quant vous fustes nez.
Se Fortune vous fait aucune injure,
C'est de son droit, ja ne l'en reprenez,
Et perdissiez jusques a la vesture:
Car vous n'aviez riens quant vous fustes nez.
Charles D'orléans.
Vous n'y avez chose vostre nes-une,
Fors les beaulx dons de grace et de nature.
Se Fortune donc, par cas d'adventur
Vous toult les biens que vostres vous tenez,
Tort ne vous fait, aincois vous fait droicture,
Car vous n'aviez riens quant vous fustes nez.
Ne laissez plus le dormir a grans sommes
En vostre lict, par nuict obscure et brune,
Pour acquester richesses a grans sommes.
Ne convoitez chose dessoubz la lune,
Ne de Paris jusques a Pampelune,
Fors ce qui fault, sans plus, a creature
Pour recouvrer sa simple nourriture.
Souffise vous d'estre bien renommez,
Et d'emporter bon loz en sepulture:
Car vous n'aviez riens quant vous fustes nez.
Les joyeulx fruictz des arbres, et les pommes,
Au temps que fut toute chose commune,
Le beau miel, les glandes et les gommes
Souffisoient bien a chascun et chascune:
Et pour ce fut sans noise et sans rancune.
Soyez contens des chaulx et des froidures,
Et me prenez Fortune doulce et seure.
Pour vos pertes, griefve dueil n'en menez,
Fors a raison, a point, et a mesure,
Car vous n'aviez riens quant vous fustes nez.
Se Fortune vous fait aucune injure,
C'est de son droit, ja ne l'en reprenez,
Et perdissiez jusques a la vesture:
Car vous n'aviez riens quant vous fustes nez.
Charles D'orléans.
Page 141
Le temps a laissie son manteau
De vent, de froidure et de pluye,
Et s'est vestu de brouderie,
De soleil luyant, cler et beau.
Il n'y a beste, ne oyseau,
Qu'en son jargon ne chante ou crie:
Le temps a laissie son manteau
De vent, de froidure et de pluye.
Riviere, fontaine et ruisseau
Portent, en livree jolie,
Gouttes d'argent d'orfavrerie,
Chascun s'abille de nouveau:
Le temps a laissie son manteau.
FOOTNOTES:
[110] The following is an account of these forms, in their more important
developments. The ballade consists of three stanzas, and an envoy, or final half-
stanza, which is sometimes omitted. The number of the lines in each stanza is
optional, but it should not usually be more than eleven or less than eight. The
peculiarity of the poem is that the last line of every stanza is identical, and that
the rhymes are the same throughout and repeated in the same order. The
examples printed at the end of this chapter from Lescurel and Chartier will
illustrate this sufficiently. There is no need to enter into the absurdity of ballades
équivoquées, emperières, etc., further than to say that their main principle is the
repetition of the same rhyming word, in a different sense, it may be twice or
thrice at the end of the line, it may be at the end and in the middle, it may be at
the end of one line and the beginning of the next. The chant royal is a kind of
major ballade having five of the longest (eleven-lined) stanzas and an envoy of
five lines. The rondel is a poem of thirteen lines (sometimes made into fourteen
by an extra repetition), consisting of two quatrains and a five-lined stanza, the
first two lines of the first quatrain being repeated as the last two of the second,
and the first line of all being added once more at the end. The rondeau, a poem
of thirteen, fourteen, or fifteen lines, is arranged in stanzas of five, four, and four,
five, or six lines, the last line of the second and third stanzas consisting of the
first words of the first line of the poem. The triolet is a sort of rondel of eight
lines only, repeating the first line at the fourth, and the first and second at the
seventh and eighth. Lastly, the villanelle alternates one of two refrain lines at the
end of each three-lined stanza. These are the principal forms, though there are
many others.
[111] Ed. Montaiglon. Paris, 1855.
[112] The Rondeau is not in Lescurel systematised into any regular form.
De vent, de froidure et de pluye,
Et s'est vestu de brouderie,
De soleil luyant, cler et beau.
Il n'y a beste, ne oyseau,
Qu'en son jargon ne chante ou crie:
Le temps a laissie son manteau
De vent, de froidure et de pluye.
Riviere, fontaine et ruisseau
Portent, en livree jolie,
Gouttes d'argent d'orfavrerie,
Chascun s'abille de nouveau:
Le temps a laissie son manteau.
FOOTNOTES:
[110] The following is an account of these forms, in their more important
developments. The ballade consists of three stanzas, and an envoy, or final half-
stanza, which is sometimes omitted. The number of the lines in each stanza is
optional, but it should not usually be more than eleven or less than eight. The
peculiarity of the poem is that the last line of every stanza is identical, and that
the rhymes are the same throughout and repeated in the same order. The
examples printed at the end of this chapter from Lescurel and Chartier will
illustrate this sufficiently. There is no need to enter into the absurdity of ballades
équivoquées, emperières, etc., further than to say that their main principle is the
repetition of the same rhyming word, in a different sense, it may be twice or
thrice at the end of the line, it may be at the end and in the middle, it may be at
the end of one line and the beginning of the next. The chant royal is a kind of
major ballade having five of the longest (eleven-lined) stanzas and an envoy of
five lines. The rondel is a poem of thirteen lines (sometimes made into fourteen
by an extra repetition), consisting of two quatrains and a five-lined stanza, the
first two lines of the first quatrain being repeated as the last two of the second,
and the first line of all being added once more at the end. The rondeau, a poem
of thirteen, fourteen, or fifteen lines, is arranged in stanzas of five, four, and four,
five, or six lines, the last line of the second and third stanzas consisting of the
first words of the first line of the poem. The triolet is a sort of rondel of eight
lines only, repeating the first line at the fourth, and the first and second at the
seventh and eighth. Lastly, the villanelle alternates one of two refrain lines at the
end of each three-lined stanza. These are the principal forms, though there are
many others.
[111] Ed. Montaiglon. Paris, 1855.
[112] The Rondeau is not in Lescurel systematised into any regular form.
Page 142
[113] Ed. L. de Mas Latrie. Société de l'Orient Latin, Geneva, 1877. This is a
poem not much shorter than the Voir Dit, but continuously octosyllabic and very
spirited. The final account of the murder of Pierre (which he provoked by the
most brutal oppression of his vassals) is full of power.
[114] Ed. P. Paris. Société des Bibliophiles, Paris, 1875. This is a very
interesting poem consisting of more than 9000 lines, mostly octosyllabic
couplets, with ballades, etc. interspersed, one of which is given at the end of this
chapter. It is addressed either to Agnes of Navarre, or, as M. P. Paris thought, to
Péronelle d'Armentières, and was written in 1362, when the author was probably
very old.
[115] Deschamps is said to have been also named Morel. A complete edition of
his works has been undertaken for the Old French Text Society by the Marquis
de Queux de Saint Hilaire.
[116] Ballades, 147, 149. Ed. Queux de St. Hilaire.
[117] Ed. Schéler. 3 vols. Brussels, 1870-1872.
[118] Ed. Héricault. 2 vols. Paris, 1874. Charles d'Orléans was the son of the
Duke of Orleans, who was murdered by the Burgundians, and of Valentina of
Milan. He was born in 1391, taken prisoner at Agincourt, ransomed in 1449, and
he died in 1465. His son was Louis XII.
[119] Ed. Queux de St. Hilaire. Paris, 1868.
poem not much shorter than the Voir Dit, but continuously octosyllabic and very
spirited. The final account of the murder of Pierre (which he provoked by the
most brutal oppression of his vassals) is full of power.
[114] Ed. P. Paris. Société des Bibliophiles, Paris, 1875. This is a very
interesting poem consisting of more than 9000 lines, mostly octosyllabic
couplets, with ballades, etc. interspersed, one of which is given at the end of this
chapter. It is addressed either to Agnes of Navarre, or, as M. P. Paris thought, to
Péronelle d'Armentières, and was written in 1362, when the author was probably
very old.
[115] Deschamps is said to have been also named Morel. A complete edition of
his works has been undertaken for the Old French Text Society by the Marquis
de Queux de Saint Hilaire.
[116] Ballades, 147, 149. Ed. Queux de St. Hilaire.
[117] Ed. Schéler. 3 vols. Brussels, 1870-1872.
[118] Ed. Héricault. 2 vols. Paris, 1874. Charles d'Orléans was the son of the
Duke of Orleans, who was murdered by the Burgundians, and of Valentina of
Milan. He was born in 1391, taken prisoner at Agincourt, ransomed in 1449, and
he died in 1465. His son was Louis XII.
[119] Ed. Queux de St. Hilaire. Paris, 1868.
Page 143
CHAPTER X.
THE DRAMA.
The origins of the drama in France, like most other
points affecting mediaeval literature, have been made Origins of Drama.
the subject of a good deal of dispute. It has been
attempted, on the one hand, to father the mysteries and miracle-plays of the
twelfth and later centuries on the classical drama, traditions of which are
supposed to have been preserved in the monasteries and other homes of
learning. On the other hand, a more probable and historical source has been
found in the ceremonies and liturgies of the Church, which in themselves
possess a considerable dramatic element, and which, as we shall see, were
early adapted to still more definitely dramatic purposes. Disputes of this
kind, if not exactly otiose, are not suited to these pages; and it is sufficient
to say that while Plautus and Terence at least retained a considerable hold
on mediaeval students, the natural tendencies to dramatic representation
which exist in almost every people, assisted by the stimulus of ecclesiastical
traditions, ceremonies, and festivals, are probably sufficient to account for
the beginnings of dramatic literature in France.
It so happens too that such historical evidence as we
have entirely bears out this supposition. The earliest Earliest Vernacular
Dramatic Forms.
compositions of a dramatic kind that we possess in
French, are arguments and scraps interpolated in Latin
liturgies of a dramatic character. Earlier still these works Mysteries
Miracles.
and
had been wholly in Latin. The production called 'The
Prophets of Christ' is held to date from the eleventh
Miracles de la
century, and consists of a series of utterances of the Vierge.
prophets and patriarchs, who are called upon in turn to
bear testimony in reference to the Messiah, according to a common patristic
habit. By degrees other portions of Old Testament history were thrown into
the dramatic or at least dialogic form. In the drama or dramatic liturgy of
Daniel, fragments of French make their appearance, and the Mystery of
Adam is entirely in the vulgar tongue. Both these belong to the twelfth
THE DRAMA.
The origins of the drama in France, like most other
points affecting mediaeval literature, have been made Origins of Drama.
the subject of a good deal of dispute. It has been
attempted, on the one hand, to father the mysteries and miracle-plays of the
twelfth and later centuries on the classical drama, traditions of which are
supposed to have been preserved in the monasteries and other homes of
learning. On the other hand, a more probable and historical source has been
found in the ceremonies and liturgies of the Church, which in themselves
possess a considerable dramatic element, and which, as we shall see, were
early adapted to still more definitely dramatic purposes. Disputes of this
kind, if not exactly otiose, are not suited to these pages; and it is sufficient
to say that while Plautus and Terence at least retained a considerable hold
on mediaeval students, the natural tendencies to dramatic representation
which exist in almost every people, assisted by the stimulus of ecclesiastical
traditions, ceremonies, and festivals, are probably sufficient to account for
the beginnings of dramatic literature in France.
It so happens too that such historical evidence as we
have entirely bears out this supposition. The earliest Earliest Vernacular
Dramatic Forms.
compositions of a dramatic kind that we possess in
French, are arguments and scraps interpolated in Latin
liturgies of a dramatic character. Earlier still these works Mysteries
Miracles.
and
had been wholly in Latin. The production called 'The
Prophets of Christ' is held to date from the eleventh
Miracles de la
century, and consists of a series of utterances of the Vierge.
prophets and patriarchs, who are called upon in turn to
bear testimony in reference to the Messiah, according to a common patristic
habit. By degrees other portions of Old Testament history were thrown into
the dramatic or at least dialogic form. In the drama or dramatic liturgy of
Daniel, fragments of French make their appearance, and the Mystery of
Adam is entirely in the vulgar tongue. Both these belong to the twelfth
Page 144
century, and the latter appears to have been not merely a part of the church
services, but to have been independently performed outside the church
walls. It is accompanied by full directions in Latin for the decoration and
arrangement of stage and scenes. Another important instance, already
mentioned, of somewhat dubious age, but certainly very early, is the
Mystery of The Ten Virgins. This is not wholly in French, but contains some
speeches in a Romance dialect. These three dramas, Daniel, Adam, and The
Ten Virgins, are the most ancient specimens of their kind, which, from the
thirteenth century onward, becomes very numerous and important. By
degrees a distinction was established between mystery and miracle-plays,
the former being for the most part taken from the sacred Scriptures, the
latter from legends and lives of the Saints and of the Virgin. Early and
interesting specimens of the miracle are to be found in the Théophile of
Rutebœuf and in the Saint Nicholas of Jean Bodel d'Arras, both belonging
to the same (thirteenth) century[120]. But the most remarkable examples of
the miracle-play are to be found in a manuscript which contains forty
miracles of the Virgin, dating from the fourteenth century. Selections from
these have been published at different times, and the whole is now in course
of publication by the Old French Text Society[121]. As the miracles were
mostly concerned with isolated legends, they did not lend themselves to
great prolixity, and it is rare to find them exceed 2000 lines. Their
versification is at first somewhat licentious, but by degrees they settled
down into more or less regular employment of the octosyllabic couplet.
Both in them and in the mysteries the curious mixture of pathos and
solemnity on the one side, with farcical ribaldry on the other, which is
characteristic of mediaeval times, early becomes apparent. The mysteries,
however, as they became more and more a favourite employment of the
time, increased and grew in length. The narrative of the Scriptures being
more or less continuous, it was natural that the small dramas on separate
subjects should by degrees be attracted to one another and be merged in
larger wholes. It was another marked characteristic of mediaeval times that
all literary work should be constantly subject to remaniement, the facile
scribes of each day writing up the work of their predecessors to the taste
and demands of their own audience. In the case of the mysteries, as in that
of the Chansons de Gestes, each remaniement resulted in a lengthening of
the original. It became an understood thing that a mystery lasted several
days in the representation; and in many provincial towns regular theatres
services, but to have been independently performed outside the church
walls. It is accompanied by full directions in Latin for the decoration and
arrangement of stage and scenes. Another important instance, already
mentioned, of somewhat dubious age, but certainly very early, is the
Mystery of The Ten Virgins. This is not wholly in French, but contains some
speeches in a Romance dialect. These three dramas, Daniel, Adam, and The
Ten Virgins, are the most ancient specimens of their kind, which, from the
thirteenth century onward, becomes very numerous and important. By
degrees a distinction was established between mystery and miracle-plays,
the former being for the most part taken from the sacred Scriptures, the
latter from legends and lives of the Saints and of the Virgin. Early and
interesting specimens of the miracle are to be found in the Théophile of
Rutebœuf and in the Saint Nicholas of Jean Bodel d'Arras, both belonging
to the same (thirteenth) century[120]. But the most remarkable examples of
the miracle-play are to be found in a manuscript which contains forty
miracles of the Virgin, dating from the fourteenth century. Selections from
these have been published at different times, and the whole is now in course
of publication by the Old French Text Society[121]. As the miracles were
mostly concerned with isolated legends, they did not lend themselves to
great prolixity, and it is rare to find them exceed 2000 lines. Their
versification is at first somewhat licentious, but by degrees they settled
down into more or less regular employment of the octosyllabic couplet.
Both in them and in the mysteries the curious mixture of pathos and
solemnity on the one side, with farcical ribaldry on the other, which is
characteristic of mediaeval times, early becomes apparent. The mysteries,
however, as they became more and more a favourite employment of the
time, increased and grew in length. The narrative of the Scriptures being
more or less continuous, it was natural that the small dramas on separate
subjects should by degrees be attracted to one another and be merged in
larger wholes. It was another marked characteristic of mediaeval times that
all literary work should be constantly subject to remaniement, the facile
scribes of each day writing up the work of their predecessors to the taste
and demands of their own audience. In the case of the mysteries, as in that
of the Chansons de Gestes, each remaniement resulted in a lengthening of
the original. It became an understood thing that a mystery lasted several
days in the representation; and in many provincial towns regular theatres
Page 145
were constructed for the performances, which remained ready for use
between the various festival times. In the form which these representations
finally assumed in the fifteenth century, they not only required elaborate
scenery and properties, but also in many cases a very large troop of
performers. It is from this century that most of the mysteries we possess
date, and they are all characterised by enormous length. The two most
famous of these are the Passion[122] of Arnould Gréban, and the Viel
Testament[123], due to no certain author. The Passion, as originally written
in the middle of the fifteenth century, consisted of some 25,000 lines, and
thirty or forty years later it was nearly doubled in length by the alterations
of Jean Michel. The Mystère du Viel Testament, of which no manuscript is
now known, but which was printed in the last year of the fifteenth century,
is now being reprinted, and extends to nearly 50,000 verses. Additions even
to this are spoken of; and Michel's Passion, supplemented by a
Résurrection, extended to nearly 70,000 lines, which vast total is believed
to have been frequently acted as a whole. In such a case the space of weeks
rather than days, which is said to have been sometimes occupied in the
performance of a mystery, cannot be thought excessive.
The enormous length of the larger mysteries makes
analysis of any one of them impossible; but as an Heterogeneous
instance of the curious comedy which is intermixed with Character
Mysteries.
of
their most serious portions, and which shocked critics
even up to our own time, we may take the scene of the Tower of Babel in
the Mystère du Viel Testament[124]. Here the author is not content with
describing Nimrod's act in general terms, or by the aid of the convenient
messenger; he brings the actual masons and carpenters on the stage. Gaste-
Bois (Spoilwood), Casse-Tuileau (Breaktile), and their mates talk before us
for nearly 200 lines, while Nimrod and others come in from time to time
and hasten on the work. The workmen are quite outspoken on the matter.
They do not altogether like the job; and one of them says,
On ne peut en fin que faillir.
Besongnons; mais qu'on nous paie bien.
A little further on and they are actually at work. One calls for a hod of
mortar, another for his hammer. The labourers supply their wants, or make
between the various festival times. In the form which these representations
finally assumed in the fifteenth century, they not only required elaborate
scenery and properties, but also in many cases a very large troop of
performers. It is from this century that most of the mysteries we possess
date, and they are all characterised by enormous length. The two most
famous of these are the Passion[122] of Arnould Gréban, and the Viel
Testament[123], due to no certain author. The Passion, as originally written
in the middle of the fifteenth century, consisted of some 25,000 lines, and
thirty or forty years later it was nearly doubled in length by the alterations
of Jean Michel. The Mystère du Viel Testament, of which no manuscript is
now known, but which was printed in the last year of the fifteenth century,
is now being reprinted, and extends to nearly 50,000 verses. Additions even
to this are spoken of; and Michel's Passion, supplemented by a
Résurrection, extended to nearly 70,000 lines, which vast total is believed
to have been frequently acted as a whole. In such a case the space of weeks
rather than days, which is said to have been sometimes occupied in the
performance of a mystery, cannot be thought excessive.
The enormous length of the larger mysteries makes
analysis of any one of them impossible; but as an Heterogeneous
instance of the curious comedy which is intermixed with Character
Mysteries.
of
their most serious portions, and which shocked critics
even up to our own time, we may take the scene of the Tower of Babel in
the Mystère du Viel Testament[124]. Here the author is not content with
describing Nimrod's act in general terms, or by the aid of the convenient
messenger; he brings the actual masons and carpenters on the stage. Gaste-
Bois (Spoilwood), Casse-Tuileau (Breaktile), and their mates talk before us
for nearly 200 lines, while Nimrod and others come in from time to time
and hasten on the work. The workmen are quite outspoken on the matter.
They do not altogether like the job; and one of them says,
On ne peut en fin que faillir.
Besongnons; mais qu'on nous paie bien.
A little further on and they are actually at work. One calls for a hod of
mortar, another for his hammer. The labourers supply their wants, or make
Page 146
jokes to the effect that they would rather bring them something to drink. So
it goes on, till suddenly the confusion of tongues falls upon them, and they
issue their orders in what is probably pure jargon, though fragments of
something like Italian can be made out. In the very middle of this scene
occurs a really fine and reverently written dialogue between Justice and
Mercy pleading respectively to the Divinity for vengeance and pardon.
Instances such as this abound in the mysteries, which are sometimes
avowedly interrupted in order that the audience may be diverted by a
farcical interlude.
Of the miracles, that of St. Guillaume du Désert will
serve as a fair example. It is but 1500 lines in length, yet Argument of a
Miracle Play.
the list of dramatis personae extends to nearly thirty,
and there are at least as many distinct scenes. William, count of Poitiers and
duke of Aquitaine, has rendered himself in many ways obnoxious to the
Holy See. He has recognised an anti-pope, has driven a bishop from his
diocese for refusing to do likewise, and has offended against morality. An
embassy, including St. Bernard, is therefore sent from Rome to warn and
correct him. William is not proof against their eloquence, and soon becomes
deeply penitent. He quits his palaces, and retires to the society of hermits in
the wilderness. These enjoin penances upon him. He is to have a heavy
hauberk immovably riveted on his bare flesh, and with sackcloth for an
overcoat to visit Rome and beg the Pope's forgiveness. He does this, and the
Pope sends him to the patriarch of Jerusalem, William taking the additional
penance as a proof of the heinousness of his sin. After this he retires by
himself into a solitary place. Here, however, a knight of his country seeks
him out, represents the anarchy into which it has fallen in his absence, and
implores him to return. But this is not William's notion of duty. He refuses,
and to be free from such importunities in future, retires to the island of
Rhodes, and there lives in solitude. Irritated at the idea of his escaping
them, Satan and Beelzebub attack him and beat him severely; but he
recovers by the Virgin's intervention, and serves as a model to young
devotees who seek his cell, and like him become hermits. At last a chorus of
saints descends to see his godly end, which takes place in the presence of
the neophytes. The events, of which this is a very brief abstract, are all
clearly indicated in the short space of 1500 verses, many of which are only
of four syllables[125]. There is of course no attempt at drawing any figure,
it goes on, till suddenly the confusion of tongues falls upon them, and they
issue their orders in what is probably pure jargon, though fragments of
something like Italian can be made out. In the very middle of this scene
occurs a really fine and reverently written dialogue between Justice and
Mercy pleading respectively to the Divinity for vengeance and pardon.
Instances such as this abound in the mysteries, which are sometimes
avowedly interrupted in order that the audience may be diverted by a
farcical interlude.
Of the miracles, that of St. Guillaume du Désert will
serve as a fair example. It is but 1500 lines in length, yet Argument of a
Miracle Play.
the list of dramatis personae extends to nearly thirty,
and there are at least as many distinct scenes. William, count of Poitiers and
duke of Aquitaine, has rendered himself in many ways obnoxious to the
Holy See. He has recognised an anti-pope, has driven a bishop from his
diocese for refusing to do likewise, and has offended against morality. An
embassy, including St. Bernard, is therefore sent from Rome to warn and
correct him. William is not proof against their eloquence, and soon becomes
deeply penitent. He quits his palaces, and retires to the society of hermits in
the wilderness. These enjoin penances upon him. He is to have a heavy
hauberk immovably riveted on his bare flesh, and with sackcloth for an
overcoat to visit Rome and beg the Pope's forgiveness. He does this, and the
Pope sends him to the patriarch of Jerusalem, William taking the additional
penance as a proof of the heinousness of his sin. After this he retires by
himself into a solitary place. Here, however, a knight of his country seeks
him out, represents the anarchy into which it has fallen in his absence, and
implores him to return. But this is not William's notion of duty. He refuses,
and to be free from such importunities in future, retires to the island of
Rhodes, and there lives in solitude. Irritated at the idea of his escaping
them, Satan and Beelzebub attack him and beat him severely; but he
recovers by the Virgin's intervention, and serves as a model to young
devotees who seek his cell, and like him become hermits. At last a chorus of
saints descends to see his godly end, which takes place in the presence of
the neophytes. The events, of which this is a very brief abstract, are all
clearly indicated in the short space of 1500 verses, many of which are only
of four syllables[125]. There is of course no attempt at drawing any figure,
Page 147
except that of the saint, at full length, and this is characteristic of the class.
But as dramatised legends, for they are little more, these miracles possess
no slight merit.
The general literary peculiarities of the miracle and mystery plays do not
differ greatly from those of other compositions in verse of the same time
which have been already described. Their great fault is prolixity. In the
collection of the Miracles de la Vierge, the comparative brevity of the
pieces renders them easier to read than the long compositions of the
fifteenth century, and the poetical beauty of some of the legends which they
tell is sufficient to furnish them with interest. Even in these, however, the
absence of point and of dignity in the expression frequently mars the effect;
and this is still more the case with the longer mysteries. Of these latter,
however, the work of the brothers Gréban—for there were two, Arnould and
Simon, concerned—contains passages superior to the general run, and in
others lines and even scenes of merit occur.
Although the existence of the drama as an actual fact
was for a long time due to the performance and Profane Drama.
popularity of the mysteries and miracles, specimens of
dramatic work with purely profane subjects are to be Adam de la Halle.
found at a comparatively early date. Adam de la Halle,
so far as our present information goes, has the credit of inventing two
separate styles of such composition[126]. In Li Jus de la Feuillie he has left
us the earliest comedy in the vulgar tongue known; in the pastoral drama of
Robin et Marion the earliest specimen of comic opera. Independently of the
improbability that the drama, once in full practice, should be arbitrarily
confined to a single class of subject, there were many germs of dramatic
composition in mediaeval literature which wanted but a little
encouragement to develop themselves. The verse dialogues and débats,
which both troubadours and trouvères had favoured, were in themselves
incompletely dramatic. The pastourelles, an extremely favourite and
fashionable class of composition, must have suggested to others besides the
Hunchback of Arras the idea of dramatising them; and the early and
strongly-marked partiality of the middle ages for pageants and shows of all
kinds could hardly fail to induce those who planned them to intersperse
dialogue.
But as dramatised legends, for they are little more, these miracles possess
no slight merit.
The general literary peculiarities of the miracle and mystery plays do not
differ greatly from those of other compositions in verse of the same time
which have been already described. Their great fault is prolixity. In the
collection of the Miracles de la Vierge, the comparative brevity of the
pieces renders them easier to read than the long compositions of the
fifteenth century, and the poetical beauty of some of the legends which they
tell is sufficient to furnish them with interest. Even in these, however, the
absence of point and of dignity in the expression frequently mars the effect;
and this is still more the case with the longer mysteries. Of these latter,
however, the work of the brothers Gréban—for there were two, Arnould and
Simon, concerned—contains passages superior to the general run, and in
others lines and even scenes of merit occur.
Although the existence of the drama as an actual fact
was for a long time due to the performance and Profane Drama.
popularity of the mysteries and miracles, specimens of
dramatic work with purely profane subjects are to be Adam de la Halle.
found at a comparatively early date. Adam de la Halle,
so far as our present information goes, has the credit of inventing two
separate styles of such composition[126]. In Li Jus de la Feuillie he has left
us the earliest comedy in the vulgar tongue known; in the pastoral drama of
Robin et Marion the earliest specimen of comic opera. Independently of the
improbability that the drama, once in full practice, should be arbitrarily
confined to a single class of subject, there were many germs of dramatic
composition in mediaeval literature which wanted but a little
encouragement to develop themselves. The verse dialogues and débats,
which both troubadours and trouvères had favoured, were in themselves
incompletely dramatic. The pastourelles, an extremely favourite and
fashionable class of composition, must have suggested to others besides the
Hunchback of Arras the idea of dramatising them; and the early and
strongly-marked partiality of the middle ages for pageants and shows of all
kinds could hardly fail to induce those who planned them to intersperse
dialogue.
Page 148
The plot of Robin et Marion is simple and in a way regular. The ordinary
incidents of a pastourelle, the meeting of a fair shepherdess and a passing
knight, the wooing (in this case an unsuccessful one) and the riding away,
are all there. The piece is completed by a kind of rustic picnic, in which the
neighbouring shepherds and shepherdesses join and disport themselves.
Marion is a very graceful and amiable figure; Robin a sheepish coward,
who is not in the least worthy of her. In Adam's other and earlier drama he
is by no means so partial to the feminine sex, and his work, though equally
fresh and vigorous, is more complex and less artistically finished. It is in
part autobiographic, and introduces Adam confessing to friends with
sufficient effrontery his intention of going to Paris and deserting his wife.
This part contains a very pretty though curiously unsuitable description of
the wooing, which has such an unlucky termination. Suddenly, however, the
author introduces his father, an old citizen, who is quite ready to encourage
his son in his evil ways provided it costs him nothing, and the piece loses
all regularity of plot. Divers citizens of Arras, male and female, are
introduced with a more or less satiric intention, and the last episode brings
in the personages of Morgue la Fée and of the mesnie (attendants) of a
certain shadowy King Hellequin. There is a doctor, too, whose revelations
of his patients' affairs are sufficiently comic, not to say farcical. Destitute as
it is of method, and approaching more nearly to the Fabliau than to any
other division of mediaeval literature in the coarseness of its language, the
piece has great interest, not merely because of its date and its apparent
originality, but because of numerous passages of distinct literary merit. The
picture of the neglected wife in her girlhood is inferior to nothing of the
kind even in the thirteenth century, that fertile epoch of early French poetry.
The father, too, Maître Henri, the earliest of his kind on the modern stage,
has traits which the great comic masters would not disown.
The classes of later secular drama may be thus divided,—the monologue,
the farce, the morality, the sotie, the profane mystery. The first four of these
constitute one of the most interesting divisions of early French literature;
and it is to be hoped that before long easy access will be afforded to the
whole of it. The last is only interesting from the point of view of literary
history.
The monologue is the simplest form of dramatic
composition and needs but little notice, though it seems Monologues.
incidents of a pastourelle, the meeting of a fair shepherdess and a passing
knight, the wooing (in this case an unsuccessful one) and the riding away,
are all there. The piece is completed by a kind of rustic picnic, in which the
neighbouring shepherds and shepherdesses join and disport themselves.
Marion is a very graceful and amiable figure; Robin a sheepish coward,
who is not in the least worthy of her. In Adam's other and earlier drama he
is by no means so partial to the feminine sex, and his work, though equally
fresh and vigorous, is more complex and less artistically finished. It is in
part autobiographic, and introduces Adam confessing to friends with
sufficient effrontery his intention of going to Paris and deserting his wife.
This part contains a very pretty though curiously unsuitable description of
the wooing, which has such an unlucky termination. Suddenly, however, the
author introduces his father, an old citizen, who is quite ready to encourage
his son in his evil ways provided it costs him nothing, and the piece loses
all regularity of plot. Divers citizens of Arras, male and female, are
introduced with a more or less satiric intention, and the last episode brings
in the personages of Morgue la Fée and of the mesnie (attendants) of a
certain shadowy King Hellequin. There is a doctor, too, whose revelations
of his patients' affairs are sufficiently comic, not to say farcical. Destitute as
it is of method, and approaching more nearly to the Fabliau than to any
other division of mediaeval literature in the coarseness of its language, the
piece has great interest, not merely because of its date and its apparent
originality, but because of numerous passages of distinct literary merit. The
picture of the neglected wife in her girlhood is inferior to nothing of the
kind even in the thirteenth century, that fertile epoch of early French poetry.
The father, too, Maître Henri, the earliest of his kind on the modern stage,
has traits which the great comic masters would not disown.
The classes of later secular drama may be thus divided,—the monologue,
the farce, the morality, the sotie, the profane mystery. The first four of these
constitute one of the most interesting divisions of early French literature;
and it is to be hoped that before long easy access will be afforded to the
whole of it. The last is only interesting from the point of view of literary
history.
The monologue is the simplest form of dramatic
composition and needs but little notice, though it seems Monologues.
Page 149
to have met with some favour from playgoers of the time. By dint also of
adroit changes of costume and assistance from scenery, etc., the monologue
was sometimes made more complicated than appears at first sight possible,
as for instance, in the Monologue du Bien et du Mal des Dames, where the
speaker plays successively the parts of two advocates and of a judge. The
monologue, however, more often consisted in a dramatisation of the earlier
dit, in which some person or thing is made to declare its own attributes. Of
very similar character is the so-called sermon joyeux, which, however,
preserves more or less the form of an address from the pulpit, of course
travestied and applied to ludicrous subjects.
The farce, on the other hand, is one of the most
important of all dramatic kinds in reference to French Farces.
literature. It is a genuine product of the soil, and proved
the ancestor of all the best comedy of France, on which foreign models had
very little influence. Until the discovery and acquisition by the British
Museum of a unique collection of farces the number of these compositions
known to exist was not large, and such as had been printed were difficult of
access. It is still not easy to get together a complete collection, but the
reimpression of the British Museum pieces in the Bibliothèque
Elzévirienne[127] with M. Ed. Fournier's Théâtre avant la Renaissance[128]
contains ample materials for judgment. In all, we possess about a hundred
farces, most of which are probably the composition of the fifteenth century,
though it is possible that some of them may date from the end of the
fourteenth. The most famous of all early French farces, that of Pathelin,
belongs, it is believed, to the middle or earlier part of the fifteenth, and
speaking generally, this century is the most productive of theatrical work, at
least of such as remains to us. The subjects of these farces are of the widest
possible diversity. In their general character they at once recall the Fabliaux,
and no one who reads many of them can doubt that the one genre is the
immediate successor of the other. The farce, like the Fabliau, deals with an
actual or possible incident of ordinary life to which a comic complexion is
given by the treatment. The length of these compositions is very variable,
but the average is perhaps about five hundred lines. Their versification is
always octosyllabic and regular. But a curious peculiarity is found in most
of them as well as in a few contemporary dramas of the serious kind. From
time to time the speeches of the characters are dovetailed into one another
adroit changes of costume and assistance from scenery, etc., the monologue
was sometimes made more complicated than appears at first sight possible,
as for instance, in the Monologue du Bien et du Mal des Dames, where the
speaker plays successively the parts of two advocates and of a judge. The
monologue, however, more often consisted in a dramatisation of the earlier
dit, in which some person or thing is made to declare its own attributes. Of
very similar character is the so-called sermon joyeux, which, however,
preserves more or less the form of an address from the pulpit, of course
travestied and applied to ludicrous subjects.
The farce, on the other hand, is one of the most
important of all dramatic kinds in reference to French Farces.
literature. It is a genuine product of the soil, and proved
the ancestor of all the best comedy of France, on which foreign models had
very little influence. Until the discovery and acquisition by the British
Museum of a unique collection of farces the number of these compositions
known to exist was not large, and such as had been printed were difficult of
access. It is still not easy to get together a complete collection, but the
reimpression of the British Museum pieces in the Bibliothèque
Elzévirienne[127] with M. Ed. Fournier's Théâtre avant la Renaissance[128]
contains ample materials for judgment. In all, we possess about a hundred
farces, most of which are probably the composition of the fifteenth century,
though it is possible that some of them may date from the end of the
fourteenth. The most famous of all early French farces, that of Pathelin,
belongs, it is believed, to the middle or earlier part of the fifteenth, and
speaking generally, this century is the most productive of theatrical work, at
least of such as remains to us. The subjects of these farces are of the widest
possible diversity. In their general character they at once recall the Fabliaux,
and no one who reads many of them can doubt that the one genre is the
immediate successor of the other. The farce, like the Fabliau, deals with an
actual or possible incident of ordinary life to which a comic complexion is
given by the treatment. The length of these compositions is very variable,
but the average is perhaps about five hundred lines. Their versification is
always octosyllabic and regular. But a curious peculiarity is found in most
of them as well as in a few contemporary dramas of the serious kind. From
time to time the speeches of the characters are dovetailed into one another
Page 150
so as to make up the Triolet (or rondeau of eight lines with triple repetition
of the first and double repetition of the second), a form which in the
fifteenth, seventeenth, and nineteenth centuries has been a favourite with
French poets of the lighter kind. The number of personages is never large; it
sometimes falls as low as two (in which case the farce might in strictness be
called, as it sometimes is, a débat or dialogue), and rarely, if ever, rises
above four or five. From what has already been said it will be seen that it is
not easy to give any general summary of the subjects of this curious
composition. Conjugal differences of one kind and another make up a very
large part of them, but by no means the whole, and there are few aspects of
contemporary bourgeois life which do not come in for treatment. As an
example we may take the Farce du Pasté de la Tarte[129]. The characters are
two thieves, a pastry-cook, and his wife. The farce opens with a lamentable
Triolet, in which the two thieves bewail their unhappy state. Immediately
afterwards, the pastry-cook, in front of whose shop the scene is laid, calls to
his wife and tells her that an eel-pie is to be kept for him, and that he will
send for it later, as he intends to dine abroad. The two thieves overhear the
conversation, and the token which is to be given by the messenger, and after
trying in vain to beg a dinner, determine to filch one. Thief the second goes
to the pastry-cook's wife, gives the appointed token, and easily obtains the
pie, upon which both feast. Unluckily, however, this does not satisfy them,
and the successful thief, remembering a fine tart which he has seen in the
shop, decides that the possession of it would much improve their dinner. He
persuades his companion to try and secure it. Meanwhile, however, the
enraged pastry-cook has come home hungry and demands his eel-pie. His
wife in vain assures him that she has sent it by the messenger who brought
his token. Her husband disbelieves her; words run high, and are followed by
blows. At this juncture the first thief appears and demands the tart,
whereupon the irate pastry-cook turns his rage upon him. The stick makes
him confess the device, and smarting under the blows, he is easily induced
to make his companion a sharer in his own sorrows. This is effected by an
obvious stratagem. The pastry-cook thus avenges himself of both his
enemies, who however, with some philosophy, console themselves with the
fact that, after all, they have had an excellent dinner without paying for it.
This piece serves as a fair example of the more miscellaneous farces, in
almost all of which the stick plays a prominent part, a part which it may be
of the first and double repetition of the second), a form which in the
fifteenth, seventeenth, and nineteenth centuries has been a favourite with
French poets of the lighter kind. The number of personages is never large; it
sometimes falls as low as two (in which case the farce might in strictness be
called, as it sometimes is, a débat or dialogue), and rarely, if ever, rises
above four or five. From what has already been said it will be seen that it is
not easy to give any general summary of the subjects of this curious
composition. Conjugal differences of one kind and another make up a very
large part of them, but by no means the whole, and there are few aspects of
contemporary bourgeois life which do not come in for treatment. As an
example we may take the Farce du Pasté de la Tarte[129]. The characters are
two thieves, a pastry-cook, and his wife. The farce opens with a lamentable
Triolet, in which the two thieves bewail their unhappy state. Immediately
afterwards, the pastry-cook, in front of whose shop the scene is laid, calls to
his wife and tells her that an eel-pie is to be kept for him, and that he will
send for it later, as he intends to dine abroad. The two thieves overhear the
conversation, and the token which is to be given by the messenger, and after
trying in vain to beg a dinner, determine to filch one. Thief the second goes
to the pastry-cook's wife, gives the appointed token, and easily obtains the
pie, upon which both feast. Unluckily, however, this does not satisfy them,
and the successful thief, remembering a fine tart which he has seen in the
shop, decides that the possession of it would much improve their dinner. He
persuades his companion to try and secure it. Meanwhile, however, the
enraged pastry-cook has come home hungry and demands his eel-pie. His
wife in vain assures him that she has sent it by the messenger who brought
his token. Her husband disbelieves her; words run high, and are followed by
blows. At this juncture the first thief appears and demands the tart,
whereupon the irate pastry-cook turns his rage upon him. The stick makes
him confess the device, and smarting under the blows, he is easily induced
to make his companion a sharer in his own sorrows. This is effected by an
obvious stratagem. The pastry-cook thus avenges himself of both his
enemies, who however, with some philosophy, console themselves with the
fact that, after all, they have had an excellent dinner without paying for it.
This piece serves as a fair example of the more miscellaneous farces, in
almost all of which the stick plays a prominent part, a part which it may be
Page 151
observed retained its prominence at least till the time of Molière. Of the
farces dealing with conjugal matters, one of the most decent, and perhaps
the most amusing of all, is the Farce du Cuvier, which has nothing to do
with the story under the same title which may be found (possibly taken
from Apuleius) in Boccaccio, and in the Fabliaux. In the farce a hen-pecked
husband is obliged by his wife to accept a long list of duties which he is to
perform. Soon afterwards she by accident falls into the washing-tub, and to
all her cries for help he replies 'cela n'est point à mon rollet' (schedule). Not
a few also are directed against the clergy, and these as a rule are the most
licentious of all. It is, however, rare to find any one which is not more or
less amusing; and students of Molière in particular will find analogies and
resemblances of the most striking kind to many of his motives. It is, indeed,
pretty certain that these pieces did not go out of fashion until Molière's own
time. The titles of some of the early and now lost pieces which his company
for so many years played in the provinces are immediately suggestive of the
old farces to any one who knows the latter. The farce was moreover a very
far-reaching kind of composition. As a rule the satire which it contains is
directed against classes, such as women, the clergy, pedants, and so forth,
who had nothing directly to do with politics, and it is thus, more or less
directly, the ancestor of the comedy of manners. It is never, properly
speaking, political, even indirect allusions to politics being excluded from
it. It relies wholly upon domestic and personal interests. Not a few farces,
such as that of which we have given a sketch, turn upon the same subject as
the Repues Franches attributed to Villon, and deal with the ingenious
methods adopted by persons who hang loose upon society for securing their
daily bread. Others attack the fertile subject of domestic service, and furnish
not a few parallels to Swift's Directions. Every now and then however we
come across a farce, or at least a piece bearing the title, in which a more
allegorical style of treatment is attempted. Such is the farce of Folle
Bobance, in which the tendency of various classes to loose and light living
is satirised amusingly enough. A gentleman, a merchant, a farmer, are all
caught by the seductive offers of Folle Bobance, and are not long before
they repent it. Such again is the Farce des Théologastres, in which the
students of the Paris theological colleges are ridiculed, the Farce de la
Pippée, and many others.
farces dealing with conjugal matters, one of the most decent, and perhaps
the most amusing of all, is the Farce du Cuvier, which has nothing to do
with the story under the same title which may be found (possibly taken
from Apuleius) in Boccaccio, and in the Fabliaux. In the farce a hen-pecked
husband is obliged by his wife to accept a long list of duties which he is to
perform. Soon afterwards she by accident falls into the washing-tub, and to
all her cries for help he replies 'cela n'est point à mon rollet' (schedule). Not
a few also are directed against the clergy, and these as a rule are the most
licentious of all. It is, however, rare to find any one which is not more or
less amusing; and students of Molière in particular will find analogies and
resemblances of the most striking kind to many of his motives. It is, indeed,
pretty certain that these pieces did not go out of fashion until Molière's own
time. The titles of some of the early and now lost pieces which his company
for so many years played in the provinces are immediately suggestive of the
old farces to any one who knows the latter. The farce was moreover a very
far-reaching kind of composition. As a rule the satire which it contains is
directed against classes, such as women, the clergy, pedants, and so forth,
who had nothing directly to do with politics, and it is thus, more or less
directly, the ancestor of the comedy of manners. It is never, properly
speaking, political, even indirect allusions to politics being excluded from
it. It relies wholly upon domestic and personal interests. Not a few farces,
such as that of which we have given a sketch, turn upon the same subject as
the Repues Franches attributed to Villon, and deal with the ingenious
methods adopted by persons who hang loose upon society for securing their
daily bread. Others attack the fertile subject of domestic service, and furnish
not a few parallels to Swift's Directions. Every now and then however we
come across a farce, or at least a piece bearing the title, in which a more
allegorical style of treatment is attempted. Such is the farce of Folle
Bobance, in which the tendency of various classes to loose and light living
is satirised amusingly enough. A gentleman, a merchant, a farmer, are all
caught by the seductive offers of Folle Bobance, and are not long before
they repent it. Such again is the Farce des Théologastres, in which the
students of the Paris theological colleges are ridiculed, the Farce de la
Pippée, and many others.
Page 152
In strictness, however, those pieces where allegorical
personages make their appearance are not farces but Moralities.
moralities. These compositions were exceedingly
popular in the later middle ages, and their popularity was a natural sequence
of the rage for allegorising which had made itself evident in very early
times, and had in the Roman de la Rose dominated almost all other literary
tastes. The taste for personification and abstraction has always lent itself
easily enough to satire, and in the fifteenth century pieces under the
designation of moralities became very common. We do not possess nearly
as many specimens of the morality as of the farce, but, on the other hand,
the morality is often, though not always, a much longer composition than
the farce. The subjects of moralities include not merely private vices and
follies, but almost all actual and possible defects of Church and State, and
occasionally the term is applied to pieces, the characters of which are not
abstractions, but which tell a story with a more or less moral turn.
Sometimes these pieces ran to a very great length, and one is quoted,
L'Homme Juste et l'Homme Mondain, which contains 36,000 lines, and
must, like the longer mysteries, have occupied days or even weeks in
acting. A morality however, on the average, consisted of about 2000 lines,
and its personages were proportionally more numerous than those of the
farce. Thus the Moralité des Enfans de Maintenant contains thirteen
characters who are indifferently abstract and concrete; Maintenant,
Mignotte, Bon Advis, Instruction, Finet, Malduit, Discipline, Jabien,
Luxure, Bonté, Désespoir, Perdition, and the Fool. This list almost
sufficiently explains the plot, which simply recounts the persistence of one
child in evil and his bad end, with the repentance of the other. The
moralities have the widest diversity of subject, but most of them are
tolerably clearly explained by their titles. La Condamnation de Banquet is a
rather spirited satire on gluttony and open housekeeping. Marchebeau
attacks the disbanded soldiery of the middle of the fifteenth century.
Charité points out the evils which have come into the world for lack of
charity. La Moralité d'une Femme qui avait voulu trahir la Cité de Romme
is built on the lines of a miracle-play. Science et Asnerye is a very lively
satire representing the superior chances which the followers of Asnerye—
ignorance—have of obtaining benefices and posts of honour and profit as
compared with those of learning. Mundus, caro, daemonia, again tells its
own tale. Les Blasphémateurs, which is very well spoken of, but has not
personages make their appearance are not farces but Moralities.
moralities. These compositions were exceedingly
popular in the later middle ages, and their popularity was a natural sequence
of the rage for allegorising which had made itself evident in very early
times, and had in the Roman de la Rose dominated almost all other literary
tastes. The taste for personification and abstraction has always lent itself
easily enough to satire, and in the fifteenth century pieces under the
designation of moralities became very common. We do not possess nearly
as many specimens of the morality as of the farce, but, on the other hand,
the morality is often, though not always, a much longer composition than
the farce. The subjects of moralities include not merely private vices and
follies, but almost all actual and possible defects of Church and State, and
occasionally the term is applied to pieces, the characters of which are not
abstractions, but which tell a story with a more or less moral turn.
Sometimes these pieces ran to a very great length, and one is quoted,
L'Homme Juste et l'Homme Mondain, which contains 36,000 lines, and
must, like the longer mysteries, have occupied days or even weeks in
acting. A morality however, on the average, consisted of about 2000 lines,
and its personages were proportionally more numerous than those of the
farce. Thus the Moralité des Enfans de Maintenant contains thirteen
characters who are indifferently abstract and concrete; Maintenant,
Mignotte, Bon Advis, Instruction, Finet, Malduit, Discipline, Jabien,
Luxure, Bonté, Désespoir, Perdition, and the Fool. This list almost
sufficiently explains the plot, which simply recounts the persistence of one
child in evil and his bad end, with the repentance of the other. The
moralities have the widest diversity of subject, but most of them are
tolerably clearly explained by their titles. La Condamnation de Banquet is a
rather spirited satire on gluttony and open housekeeping. Marchebeau
attacks the disbanded soldiery of the middle of the fifteenth century.
Charité points out the evils which have come into the world for lack of
charity. La Moralité d'une Femme qui avait voulu trahir la Cité de Romme
is built on the lines of a miracle-play. Science et Asnerye is a very lively
satire representing the superior chances which the followers of Asnerye—
ignorance—have of obtaining benefices and posts of honour and profit as
compared with those of learning. Mundus, caro, daemonia, again tells its
own tale. Les Blasphémateurs, which is very well spoken of, but has not
Page 153
been reprinted, rests on the popular legend upon which Don Juan is also
based. In short, unless a complete catalogue were given, there is no means
of fully describing the numerous works of this class.
The Sotie is a class of much more idiosyncrasy.
Although we have very few Soties (not at present more Soties.
than a dozen accessible to the student), although the
contents of this class are as a rule duller even than those of the moralities,
and infinitely inferior in attraction to those of the farces, yet the Sotie has
the merit of possessing a much more distinct and peculiar form. It is
essentially political comedy, and it has the peculiarity of being played by
stock personages, like an Italian comedy of the early kind. The Sotie, at
least in its purely political form, was, as might be expected, not very long
lived. Its most celebrated author was Gringore, and his Sotie, which forms
part of Le Jeu du Prince des Sots et Mère Sotte, is still the typical example
of the kind. Besides these two characters (who represent, roughly speaking,
the temporal and spiritual powers), we have in this piece, Sotte Commune,
the common people; Sotte Fiance, false confidence; Sotte Occasion, who
explains herself; and a good many other allegorical personages, such as the
Seigneur de Gayeté, etc. These pieces, however, are for the most part so
entirely occasional that their chief literary interest lies in their curious stock
personages. It should, however, be observed that of the few Soties which we
possess by no means all correspond to this description, some of them being
indistinguishable from moralities. A curious detail is that the various pieces
we have been mentioning were sometimes, in representation, combined
after the fashion of a regular tetralogy. First came a monologue or cry
containing a kind of proclamation. This was followed by the Sotie itself;
then followed the morality, and lastly a farce. The work of Gringore, just
noticed, forms part of such a tetralogy.
The profane mysteries may be briefly despatched. They
were the natural result of the vogue of the mysteries Profane Mysteries.
proper, with which they vie in prolixity. Some of them
were based on history or romance, such as, for instance, the Mystery of
Troy. Others corresponded pretty nearly to the history plays of our own
dramatists at a later period. Such is the Mystery of the Siege of Orleans
which versifies and dramatises, at a date very shortly subsequent to the
based. In short, unless a complete catalogue were given, there is no means
of fully describing the numerous works of this class.
The Sotie is a class of much more idiosyncrasy.
Although we have very few Soties (not at present more Soties.
than a dozen accessible to the student), although the
contents of this class are as a rule duller even than those of the moralities,
and infinitely inferior in attraction to those of the farces, yet the Sotie has
the merit of possessing a much more distinct and peculiar form. It is
essentially political comedy, and it has the peculiarity of being played by
stock personages, like an Italian comedy of the early kind. The Sotie, at
least in its purely political form, was, as might be expected, not very long
lived. Its most celebrated author was Gringore, and his Sotie, which forms
part of Le Jeu du Prince des Sots et Mère Sotte, is still the typical example
of the kind. Besides these two characters (who represent, roughly speaking,
the temporal and spiritual powers), we have in this piece, Sotte Commune,
the common people; Sotte Fiance, false confidence; Sotte Occasion, who
explains herself; and a good many other allegorical personages, such as the
Seigneur de Gayeté, etc. These pieces, however, are for the most part so
entirely occasional that their chief literary interest lies in their curious stock
personages. It should, however, be observed that of the few Soties which we
possess by no means all correspond to this description, some of them being
indistinguishable from moralities. A curious detail is that the various pieces
we have been mentioning were sometimes, in representation, combined
after the fashion of a regular tetralogy. First came a monologue or cry
containing a kind of proclamation. This was followed by the Sotie itself;
then followed the morality, and lastly a farce. The work of Gringore, just
noticed, forms part of such a tetralogy.
The profane mysteries may be briefly despatched. They
were the natural result of the vogue of the mysteries Profane Mysteries.
proper, with which they vie in prolixity. Some of them
were based on history or romance, such as, for instance, the Mystery of
Troy. Others corresponded pretty nearly to the history plays of our own
dramatists at a later period. Such is the Mystery of the Siege of Orleans
which versifies and dramatises, at a date very shortly subsequent to the
Page 154
actual events, the account of them already made public in different
chronicles.
Of considerable interest and importance in connection
with these early forms of drama is the subject of the Societies of Actors.
persons and societies by whom they were represented, a
subject upon which it is necessary to say a few words. At first, as we have
seen, the actors were members or dependents of the clergy. As the mysteries
increased in bulk and demanded larger companies, their representation fell
more and more into the hands of the laity, even women in not a few cases
acting parts, though this was rather the exception than the rule. It became
not unusual for the guilds, which play such an important part in the social
history of the middle ages, to undertake the task, and at last regular societies
of actors were formed. The most famous of these, the Confrérie de la
Passion (whose first object was to play the mystery, or rather cycle of
mysteries, known by that name), was licensed in 1402, and in the course of
the fifteenth century a very large number of rival bodies were more or less
formally constituted. The clerks of the Bazoche, or Palace of Justice, had
long been dramatically inclined, but it was not till this time that they were
recognised as, so to speak, the patentees of a peculiar form of drama which
in their case was the morality. The Enfants sans Souci, young men of good
families in the city, devoted themselves rather to the Sotie, and the stock
personages of that curious form correspond to the official titles of the
officers of their guild. Besides these, many other similar but less durable
and regularly constituted societies arose, whose heads took fantastic titles,
such as Empereur de Galilée, Roi de l'Epinette, Prince de l'Etrille, and so
forth. No one of these, however, attained the importance of the
Confraternity of the Passion. This was chiefly composed of tradesmen and
citizens of Paris, and for a hundred and fifty years it continued to play for
the most part mysteries, sacred and profane alike, but the latter, according to
its name and profession, less commonly. In 1548 a curious example of the
change of times and manners took place, owing in all probability to the
influence, direct or indirect, of the Reformation. The Confraternity had its
charter renewed, but it was expressly forbidden to play the sacred dramas
which it had been originally constituted to perform. Thenceforward secular
plays only were lawful in Paris, but the older dramas continued for a long
time to be performed in the provinces, and in Britanny have been acted
chronicles.
Of considerable interest and importance in connection
with these early forms of drama is the subject of the Societies of Actors.
persons and societies by whom they were represented, a
subject upon which it is necessary to say a few words. At first, as we have
seen, the actors were members or dependents of the clergy. As the mysteries
increased in bulk and demanded larger companies, their representation fell
more and more into the hands of the laity, even women in not a few cases
acting parts, though this was rather the exception than the rule. It became
not unusual for the guilds, which play such an important part in the social
history of the middle ages, to undertake the task, and at last regular societies
of actors were formed. The most famous of these, the Confrérie de la
Passion (whose first object was to play the mystery, or rather cycle of
mysteries, known by that name), was licensed in 1402, and in the course of
the fifteenth century a very large number of rival bodies were more or less
formally constituted. The clerks of the Bazoche, or Palace of Justice, had
long been dramatically inclined, but it was not till this time that they were
recognised as, so to speak, the patentees of a peculiar form of drama which
in their case was the morality. The Enfants sans Souci, young men of good
families in the city, devoted themselves rather to the Sotie, and the stock
personages of that curious form correspond to the official titles of the
officers of their guild. Besides these, many other similar but less durable
and regularly constituted societies arose, whose heads took fantastic titles,
such as Empereur de Galilée, Roi de l'Epinette, Prince de l'Etrille, and so
forth. No one of these, however, attained the importance of the
Confraternity of the Passion. This was chiefly composed of tradesmen and
citizens of Paris, and for a hundred and fifty years it continued to play for
the most part mysteries, sacred and profane alike, but the latter, according to
its name and profession, less commonly. In 1548 a curious example of the
change of times and manners took place, owing in all probability to the
influence, direct or indirect, of the Reformation. The Confraternity had its
charter renewed, but it was expressly forbidden to play the sacred dramas
which it had been originally constituted to perform. Thenceforward secular
plays only were lawful in Paris, but the older dramas continued for a long
time to be performed in the provinces, and in Britanny have been acted
Page 155
within the last half century. The Confraternity became regular actors of
ordinary farces, and as time went on were known under the title of the
Comedians of the Hôtel de Bourgogne, a name which brings us at once into
the presence of Molière. In these last sentences we have a little outstripped
the mediaeval period proper, but in dramatic matters there is no gap
between the ancient and modern theatre until we arrive at the Pléiade.
It is not very easy to illustrate the manner of the ancient French drama by
citations within ordinary compass; but the following passages, the first from
the Mystery of the Passion, the second from the original form of Pathelin,
may serve the purpose:—
Ici deschargent Jesus de la croix.
Simon. or avant donc, puis que ainsi va.
je ferai vostre voulenté;
mais il me poise en verité
de la honte que vous me faictes.
o Jesus, de tous les prophettes
le plus sainct et le plus begnin,
vous venés a piteuse fin,
veue vostre vie vertüeuse
quant vostre croix dure et honteuse
pour vostre mort fault que je porte.
se c'est a tort, je m'en rapporte
a ceulx qui vous ont forjugé.
Ici charge la croix a Simon.
Nembroth. Messeigneurs, il est bien chargé;
cheminons, depeschons la voie.
Salmanazar. j'ai grant désir que je le voie
fiché en ce hault tabernacle,
a sçavoir s'il fera miracle,
quant il sera cloué dessus.
Jéroboam. seigneurs, hastés moi ce Jesus
et ces deux larrons aux coustés.
ordinary farces, and as time went on were known under the title of the
Comedians of the Hôtel de Bourgogne, a name which brings us at once into
the presence of Molière. In these last sentences we have a little outstripped
the mediaeval period proper, but in dramatic matters there is no gap
between the ancient and modern theatre until we arrive at the Pléiade.
It is not very easy to illustrate the manner of the ancient French drama by
citations within ordinary compass; but the following passages, the first from
the Mystery of the Passion, the second from the original form of Pathelin,
may serve the purpose:—
Ici deschargent Jesus de la croix.
Simon. or avant donc, puis que ainsi va.
je ferai vostre voulenté;
mais il me poise en verité
de la honte que vous me faictes.
o Jesus, de tous les prophettes
le plus sainct et le plus begnin,
vous venés a piteuse fin,
veue vostre vie vertüeuse
quant vostre croix dure et honteuse
pour vostre mort fault que je porte.
se c'est a tort, je m'en rapporte
a ceulx qui vous ont forjugé.
Ici charge la croix a Simon.
Nembroth. Messeigneurs, il est bien chargé;
cheminons, depeschons la voie.
Salmanazar. j'ai grant désir que je le voie
fiché en ce hault tabernacle,
a sçavoir s'il fera miracle,
quant il sera cloué dessus.
Jéroboam. seigneurs, hastés moi ce Jesus
et ces deux larrons aux coustés.
Page 156
s'ilz ne vuellent, si les battez
si bien qu'il n'y ait que redire.
Claquedent. a cela ne tiendra pas, sire.
nos en ferons nostre povoir.
Ici porte Simon une partie de la croix et
Jesus l'autre et le battent les sergens.
Dieu le pere. Pitié doit tout cueur esmouvoir
en lamenter piteusement
le martyre et le gref tourment
que Jesus, mon chier filz, endure.
il porte détresse tant dure,
que, puis que le monde dura,
homme si dure n'endura,
laquelle ne peult plus durer
sans la mort honteuse endurer,
et n'aura son sainct corps duree
tant qu'il ait la mort enduree,
il appert, car plus va durant,
et plus est tourment endurant,
sans quelque confort qui l'alege.
si convient que la mort abrege
et de l'exécuter s'apreste,
pour satiffaire a la requeste
de dame Justice severe,
qui pour requeste ne prïere
ne veult rien de ses drois quitter.
Michel, allés donc conforter
en ceste amere passïon
mon filz, plain de dilectïon,
qui veult dure mort en gré predre
et va sa doulce chair estrandre
ou puissant arbre de la croix.
Sainct Michel. pere du ciel et roi des rois,
humblement a chere assimplie
si bien qu'il n'y ait que redire.
Claquedent. a cela ne tiendra pas, sire.
nos en ferons nostre povoir.
Ici porte Simon une partie de la croix et
Jesus l'autre et le battent les sergens.
Dieu le pere. Pitié doit tout cueur esmouvoir
en lamenter piteusement
le martyre et le gref tourment
que Jesus, mon chier filz, endure.
il porte détresse tant dure,
que, puis que le monde dura,
homme si dure n'endura,
laquelle ne peult plus durer
sans la mort honteuse endurer,
et n'aura son sainct corps duree
tant qu'il ait la mort enduree,
il appert, car plus va durant,
et plus est tourment endurant,
sans quelque confort qui l'alege.
si convient que la mort abrege
et de l'exécuter s'apreste,
pour satiffaire a la requeste
de dame Justice severe,
qui pour requeste ne prïere
ne veult rien de ses drois quitter.
Michel, allés donc conforter
en ceste amere passïon
mon filz, plain de dilectïon,
qui veult dure mort en gré predre
et va sa doulce chair estrandre
ou puissant arbre de la croix.
Sainct Michel. pere du ciel et roi des rois,
humblement a chere assimplie
Page 157
sera parfaicte et acomplie
vostre voulenté juste et bonne.
Ici descendent les anges de paradis.
* * * * * *
Path. ce bergier ne peut nullement
respondre aux fais que l'on propose,
s'il n'a du conseil; et il n'ose
ou il ne scet en demander.
s'il vous plaisoit moy commander
que je fusse a luy, je y seroye.
Juge. avecques luy? je cuideroye
que ce fust trestoute froidure:
c'est peu d'acquest. Path. mais je vous jure
qu'aussi n'en veuil rien avoir:
pour dieu soit. or je voys sçavoir
au pauvret qu'il voudra me dire,
et s'il me sçaura point instruire
pour respondre aux fais de partie.
il auroit dure departie
de ce, qui ne le secourroit.
vien ça, mon amy. qui pourroit
trouver? entens. Berg. bee. Path. quel bee, dea!
par le sainct sang que dieu crëa,
es tu fol? dy moy ton affaire.
Berg. bee. Path. quel bee! oys tu tes brebis braire?
c'est pour ton prouffit; entens y.
Berg. bee. Path. et dy ouÿ ou nenny,
c'est bien faict. dy tousjours, feras?
Berg. bee. Path. plus haut, ou tu t'en trouveras
en grans depens, ou je m'en doubte.
Berg. bee. Path. or est plus fol cil qui boute
vostre voulenté juste et bonne.
Ici descendent les anges de paradis.
* * * * * *
Path. ce bergier ne peut nullement
respondre aux fais que l'on propose,
s'il n'a du conseil; et il n'ose
ou il ne scet en demander.
s'il vous plaisoit moy commander
que je fusse a luy, je y seroye.
Juge. avecques luy? je cuideroye
que ce fust trestoute froidure:
c'est peu d'acquest. Path. mais je vous jure
qu'aussi n'en veuil rien avoir:
pour dieu soit. or je voys sçavoir
au pauvret qu'il voudra me dire,
et s'il me sçaura point instruire
pour respondre aux fais de partie.
il auroit dure departie
de ce, qui ne le secourroit.
vien ça, mon amy. qui pourroit
trouver? entens. Berg. bee. Path. quel bee, dea!
par le sainct sang que dieu crëa,
es tu fol? dy moy ton affaire.
Berg. bee. Path. quel bee! oys tu tes brebis braire?
c'est pour ton prouffit; entens y.
Berg. bee. Path. et dy ouÿ ou nenny,
c'est bien faict. dy tousjours, feras?
Berg. bee. Path. plus haut, ou tu t'en trouveras
en grans depens, ou je m'en doubte.
Berg. bee. Path. or est plus fol cil qui boute
Page 158
tel fol naturel en procés.
ha, sire, renvoyez l'en a ses
brebis; il est fol de nature.
Drapp. est il fol? sainct sauveur d'Esture!
il est plus saige que vous n'estes.
Path. envoyez le garder ses bestes,
sans jour que jamais ne retourne.
que maudit soit il qui adjourne
tels folz que ne fault adjourner.
Drapp. et l'en fera l'en retourner
avant que je puisse estre ouÿ?
Path. m'aist dieu, puis qu'il est foul, ouÿ.
pour quoy ne fera? Drapp. he dea, sire,
au moins laissez moy avant dire
et faire mes conclusïons.
ce ne sont pas abusïons
que je vous dy ne mocqueries.
Juge. ce sont toutes tribouilleries
que de plaider a folz ne a folles.
escoutez, a moins de parolles
la court n'en sera plus tenue.
Drapp. s'en iront ilz sans retenue
de plus revenir? Juge. et quoy doncques?
Path. revenir? vous ne veistes oncques
plus fol ne en faict ne en response:
et cil ne vault pas mieulx une once.
tous deux sont folz et sans cervelle:
par saincte Marie la belle,
eux deux n'en ont pas un quarat[130].
FOOTNOTES:
ha, sire, renvoyez l'en a ses
brebis; il est fol de nature.
Drapp. est il fol? sainct sauveur d'Esture!
il est plus saige que vous n'estes.
Path. envoyez le garder ses bestes,
sans jour que jamais ne retourne.
que maudit soit il qui adjourne
tels folz que ne fault adjourner.
Drapp. et l'en fera l'en retourner
avant que je puisse estre ouÿ?
Path. m'aist dieu, puis qu'il est foul, ouÿ.
pour quoy ne fera? Drapp. he dea, sire,
au moins laissez moy avant dire
et faire mes conclusïons.
ce ne sont pas abusïons
que je vous dy ne mocqueries.
Juge. ce sont toutes tribouilleries
que de plaider a folz ne a folles.
escoutez, a moins de parolles
la court n'en sera plus tenue.
Drapp. s'en iront ilz sans retenue
de plus revenir? Juge. et quoy doncques?
Path. revenir? vous ne veistes oncques
plus fol ne en faict ne en response:
et cil ne vault pas mieulx une once.
tous deux sont folz et sans cervelle:
par saincte Marie la belle,
eux deux n'en ont pas un quarat[130].
FOOTNOTES:
Page 159
[120] These, as well as The Ten Virgins and many other pieces soon to be
mentioned, are to be found in Monmerqué and Michel, Théâtre François au
Moyen Age, Paris, 1874, last ed.; Adam, ed. Luzarches, 1854.
[121] Vols. 1-6. Paris, 1876-1881.
[122] Ed. G. Paris and G. Raynaud. Paris, 1878.
[123] Ed. J. de Rothschild. Vols. i-iii. Paris, 1878-1881.
[124] Mystère du Viel Testament, i. 259-272.
[125] Miracles de la Vierge, ii. 1-54.
[126] See Monmerqué and Michel, op. cit.
[127] Ancien Théâtre Français, vols. 1-3. Paris, 1854.
[128] Paris, n. d.
[129] Ancien Théâtre Français, ii. 64-79.
[130] A history of the mediaeval theatre has been undertaken by M. Petit de
Julleville, of which two volumes, containing an excellent account of the
Mysteries, have appeared (Paris, 1880). Information on other points is rather
scattered, but it will be found well summarised in Aubertin, Histoire de la
Langue et de la Littérature Française au Moyen Age (Paris, 1876-8), i. 372-570.
A complete collection of farces, soties, etc. is hoped for from the Old French
Text Society.
mentioned, are to be found in Monmerqué and Michel, Théâtre François au
Moyen Age, Paris, 1874, last ed.; Adam, ed. Luzarches, 1854.
[121] Vols. 1-6. Paris, 1876-1881.
[122] Ed. G. Paris and G. Raynaud. Paris, 1878.
[123] Ed. J. de Rothschild. Vols. i-iii. Paris, 1878-1881.
[124] Mystère du Viel Testament, i. 259-272.
[125] Miracles de la Vierge, ii. 1-54.
[126] See Monmerqué and Michel, op. cit.
[127] Ancien Théâtre Français, vols. 1-3. Paris, 1854.
[128] Paris, n. d.
[129] Ancien Théâtre Français, ii. 64-79.
[130] A history of the mediaeval theatre has been undertaken by M. Petit de
Julleville, of which two volumes, containing an excellent account of the
Mysteries, have appeared (Paris, 1880). Information on other points is rather
scattered, but it will be found well summarised in Aubertin, Histoire de la
Langue et de la Littérature Française au Moyen Age (Paris, 1876-8), i. 372-570.
A complete collection of farces, soties, etc. is hoped for from the Old French
Text Society.
Page 160
CHAPTER XI.
PROSE CHRONICLES.
In all countries the use of prose for literature is
chronologically later than the use of poetry, and France Beginning of Prose
Chronicles.
is no exception to the rule. The Chansons de Gestes
were in their way historical poems, and they were, as we
have seen, soon followed by directly historical poems in Grandes
Chroniques de
considerable numbers. It was not, however, till the prose France.
Arthurian romances of Map and his followers had made
prose popular as a vehicle for long narratives, that regular history began to
be written in the vulgar tongue. The vogue of these prose romances dates
from the latter portion of the twelfth century; the prose chronicle follows it
closely, and dates from the beginning of the thirteenth. It was not at first
original. The practice of chronicle writing in Latin had been frequent during
the earlier centuries, and at last the monks of three monasteries, St. Benoit
sur Loire, St. Germain des Prés, and St. Denis, began to keep a regular
register of the events of their own time, connecting this with earlier
chronicles of the past. The most famous and dignified of the three, St.
Denis, became specially the home of history. The earliest French prose
chronicles do not, however, come from this place. They are two in number;
both date from the earliest years of the thirteenth century, and both are
translations. One is a version of a Latin compilation of Merovingian
history; the other of the famous chronicle of Turpin[131]. These two are
composed in a southern dialect bordering on the Provençal, and the first
was either written by or ascribed to a certain Nicholas of Senlis. The
example was followed, but it was not till 1274 that a complete vernacular
version of the history of France was executed by a monk of St. Denis—
Primat—in French prose. This version, slightly modified, became the
original of a compilation very famous in French literature and history, the
Grandes Chroniques de France, which was regularly continued by
members of the same community until the reign of Charles V, from official
sources and under royal authority. The work, under the same title but
PROSE CHRONICLES.
In all countries the use of prose for literature is
chronologically later than the use of poetry, and France Beginning of Prose
Chronicles.
is no exception to the rule. The Chansons de Gestes
were in their way historical poems, and they were, as we
have seen, soon followed by directly historical poems in Grandes
Chroniques de
considerable numbers. It was not, however, till the prose France.
Arthurian romances of Map and his followers had made
prose popular as a vehicle for long narratives, that regular history began to
be written in the vulgar tongue. The vogue of these prose romances dates
from the latter portion of the twelfth century; the prose chronicle follows it
closely, and dates from the beginning of the thirteenth. It was not at first
original. The practice of chronicle writing in Latin had been frequent during
the earlier centuries, and at last the monks of three monasteries, St. Benoit
sur Loire, St. Germain des Prés, and St. Denis, began to keep a regular
register of the events of their own time, connecting this with earlier
chronicles of the past. The most famous and dignified of the three, St.
Denis, became specially the home of history. The earliest French prose
chronicles do not, however, come from this place. They are two in number;
both date from the earliest years of the thirteenth century, and both are
translations. One is a version of a Latin compilation of Merovingian
history; the other of the famous chronicle of Turpin[131]. These two are
composed in a southern dialect bordering on the Provençal, and the first
was either written by or ascribed to a certain Nicholas of Senlis. The
example was followed, but it was not till 1274 that a complete vernacular
version of the history of France was executed by a monk of St. Denis—
Primat—in French prose. This version, slightly modified, became the
original of a compilation very famous in French literature and history, the
Grandes Chroniques de France, which was regularly continued by
members of the same community until the reign of Charles V, from official
sources and under royal authority. The work, under the same title but
Page 161
written by laics, extends further to the reign of Louis XI. The necessity of
translation ceased as soon as the example of writing in the vernacular had
been set, though Latin chronicles continued to be produced as well as
French.
Long, however, before history on the great scale had
been thus attempted, and very soon after the first attempt Villehardouin.
of Nicholas of Senlis had shown that the vulgar tongue
was capable of such use, original prose memoirs and chronicles of
contemporary events had been produced, and, as happens more than once in
French literature, the first, or one of the first, was also the best. The
Conquête de Constantinoble[132] of Geoffroy de Villehardouin was written
in all probability during the first decade of the thirteenth century. Its author
was born at Villehardouin, near Troyes, about 1160, and died, it would
seem, in his Greek fief of Messinople in 1213. His book contains a history
of the Fourth Crusade, which resulted in no action against the infidels, but
in the establishment for the time of a Latin empire and in the partition of
Greece among French barons. Villehardouin's memoirs are by universal
consent among the most attractive works of the middle ages. Although no
actually original manuscript exists, we possess a copy which to all
appearance faithfully represents the original. To readers, who before
approaching Villehardouin have well acquainted themselves with the
characteristics of the Chansons de Gestes, the resemblance of the Conquête
de Constantinoble to these latter is exceedingly striking. The form, putting
the difference between prose and verse aside, is very similar, and the merits
of vigorous and brightly coloured language, of simplicity and vividness of
presentation, are identical. At the same time either his own genius or the
form which he has adopted has saved Villehardouin from the crying defect
of most mediaeval work, prolixity and monotony. He has much to say as
well as a striking manner of saying it, and the interest of his work as a story
yields in nothing to its picturesqueness as a piece of literary composition.
His indirect as well as direct literary value is moreover very great, because
he enables us to see that the picture of manners and thought given by the
Chansons de Gestes is in the main strictly true to the actual habits of the
time—the time, that is to say, of their composition, not of their nominal
subjects. Villehardouin is the chief literary exponent of the first stage of
chivalry, the stage in which adventure was an actual fact open to every one,
translation ceased as soon as the example of writing in the vernacular had
been set, though Latin chronicles continued to be produced as well as
French.
Long, however, before history on the great scale had
been thus attempted, and very soon after the first attempt Villehardouin.
of Nicholas of Senlis had shown that the vulgar tongue
was capable of such use, original prose memoirs and chronicles of
contemporary events had been produced, and, as happens more than once in
French literature, the first, or one of the first, was also the best. The
Conquête de Constantinoble[132] of Geoffroy de Villehardouin was written
in all probability during the first decade of the thirteenth century. Its author
was born at Villehardouin, near Troyes, about 1160, and died, it would
seem, in his Greek fief of Messinople in 1213. His book contains a history
of the Fourth Crusade, which resulted in no action against the infidels, but
in the establishment for the time of a Latin empire and in the partition of
Greece among French barons. Villehardouin's memoirs are by universal
consent among the most attractive works of the middle ages. Although no
actually original manuscript exists, we possess a copy which to all
appearance faithfully represents the original. To readers, who before
approaching Villehardouin have well acquainted themselves with the
characteristics of the Chansons de Gestes, the resemblance of the Conquête
de Constantinoble to these latter is exceedingly striking. The form, putting
the difference between prose and verse aside, is very similar, and the merits
of vigorous and brightly coloured language, of simplicity and vividness of
presentation, are identical. At the same time either his own genius or the
form which he has adopted has saved Villehardouin from the crying defect
of most mediaeval work, prolixity and monotony. He has much to say as
well as a striking manner of saying it, and the interest of his work as a story
yields in nothing to its picturesqueness as a piece of literary composition.
His indirect as well as direct literary value is moreover very great, because
he enables us to see that the picture of manners and thought given by the
Chansons de Gestes is in the main strictly true to the actual habits of the
time—the time, that is to say, of their composition, not of their nominal
subjects. Villehardouin is the chief literary exponent of the first stage of
chivalry, the stage in which adventure was an actual fact open to every one,
Page 162
and when Eastern Europe and Western Asia offered to the wandering knight
opportunities quite as tempting as those which the romances asserted to
have been open to the champions of Charlemagne and Arthur. But, as a
faithful historian, he, while putting the poetical and attractive side of
feudalism in the best light, does not in the least conceal its defects,
especially the perpetual jarring and rivalry inevitable in armies where
hundreds of petty kings sought each his own advantage.
The Fourth Crusade was fertile in chroniclers.
Villehardouin's work was supplemented by the chronicle Minor Chroniclers
between
of Henri de Valenciennes, which is written in a Villehardouin and
somewhat similar style, but with still more resemblance Joinville.
to the manner and diction of the Chansons, so much so
that it has been even supposed, though probably without foundation, to be a
rhymed Chanson thrown into a prose form. This process is known to have
been actually applied in some cases. Another historian of the expedition
whose work has been preserved was Robert de Clari. Baldwin Count of
Flanders, who also accompanied it, was not indeed the author but the
instigator of a translation of Latin chronicles which, like the Grandes
Chroniques de France, was continued by original work and attained, under
the title of Chronique de Baudouin d'Avesnes, very considerable
dimensions.
The thirteenth century also supplies a not inconsiderable number of works
dealing with the general history of France. Guillaume de Nangis wrote in
the latter part of the century several historical treatises, first in Latin and
then in French. An important work, entitled La Chronique de Rains
(Rheims), dates from the middle of the period, and, though less picturesque
in subject and manner than Villehardouin, has considerable merits of style.
Normandy, Flanders, and, the Crusades generally, each have groups of
prose chronicles dealing with them, the most remarkable of the latter being
a very early French translation of the work of William of Tyre, with
additions[133]. Of the Flanders group, the already mentioned chronicle
called of Baudouin d'Avesnes is the chief. It is worth mentioning again
because in its case we see the way in which French was gaining ground. It
exists both in Latin and in the vernacular. In other cases the Latin would be
the original; but in this case it appears, though it is not positively certain,
opportunities quite as tempting as those which the romances asserted to
have been open to the champions of Charlemagne and Arthur. But, as a
faithful historian, he, while putting the poetical and attractive side of
feudalism in the best light, does not in the least conceal its defects,
especially the perpetual jarring and rivalry inevitable in armies where
hundreds of petty kings sought each his own advantage.
The Fourth Crusade was fertile in chroniclers.
Villehardouin's work was supplemented by the chronicle Minor Chroniclers
between
of Henri de Valenciennes, which is written in a Villehardouin and
somewhat similar style, but with still more resemblance Joinville.
to the manner and diction of the Chansons, so much so
that it has been even supposed, though probably without foundation, to be a
rhymed Chanson thrown into a prose form. This process is known to have
been actually applied in some cases. Another historian of the expedition
whose work has been preserved was Robert de Clari. Baldwin Count of
Flanders, who also accompanied it, was not indeed the author but the
instigator of a translation of Latin chronicles which, like the Grandes
Chroniques de France, was continued by original work and attained, under
the title of Chronique de Baudouin d'Avesnes, very considerable
dimensions.
The thirteenth century also supplies a not inconsiderable number of works
dealing with the general history of France. Guillaume de Nangis wrote in
the latter part of the century several historical treatises, first in Latin and
then in French. An important work, entitled La Chronique de Rains
(Rheims), dates from the middle of the period, and, though less picturesque
in subject and manner than Villehardouin, has considerable merits of style.
Normandy, Flanders, and, the Crusades generally, each have groups of
prose chronicles dealing with them, the most remarkable of the latter being
a very early French translation of the work of William of Tyre, with
additions[133]. Of the Flanders group, the already mentioned chronicle
called of Baudouin d'Avesnes is the chief. It is worth mentioning again
because in its case we see the way in which French was gaining ground. It
exists both in Latin and in the vernacular. In other cases the Latin would be
the original; but in this case it appears, though it is not positively certain,
Page 163
that the book was written in French, and translated for the benefit of those
who might happen not to understand that language.
As Villehardouin is the representative writer of the
twelfth century, so is Joinville[134] of the thirteenth, as Joinville.
far as history is concerned. Jean de Joinville, Sénéchal
of Champagne, was born in 1224 at the castle of Joinville on the Marne,
which afterwards became the property of the Orleans family, and was
destroyed during the Revolution. He died in 1319. He accompanied Saint
Louis on his unfortunate crusade in 1248, but not in his final and fatal
expedition to Tunis. Most of the few later events of his life known to us
were connected with the canonisation of the king; but he is known to have
taken part in active service when past his ninetieth year. His historical work,
a biography of St. Louis, deals chiefly with the crusade, and is one of the
most circumstantial records we have of mediaeval life and thought. It is of
much greater bulk than Villehardouin's Conquête, and is composed upon a
different principle, the author being somewhat addicted to gossip and apt to
digress from the main course of his narrative. It has, however, to be
remembered that Joinville's first object was not, like Villehardouin's, to give
an account of a single and definite enterprise, but to display the character of
his hero, to which end a certain amount of desultoriness was necessary and
desirable. His style has less vigour than that of his countryman and
predecessor, but it has more grace. It is evident that Joinville occasionally
set himself with deliberate purpose to describe things in a literary fashion,
and his interspersed reflections on manners and political subjects
considerably increase the material value of his work. It is unfortunate that
nothing like a contemporary manuscript has come down to us, the earliest in
existence being one of the late fourteenth century, when considerable
changes had passed over the language. With the aid of some contemporary
documents on matters of business which Joinville seems to have dictated,
M. de Wailly has effected an exceedingly ingenious conjectural restoration
of the text of the book, but the interest of this is in strictness diminished by
the fact that it is undoubtedly conjectural. The period of composition of
Joinville's book was somewhat late in his life, apparently in the first years
of the fourteenth century, and about 1310 he presented it to Louis le Hutin,
though it does not appear what became of the manuscript.
who might happen not to understand that language.
As Villehardouin is the representative writer of the
twelfth century, so is Joinville[134] of the thirteenth, as Joinville.
far as history is concerned. Jean de Joinville, Sénéchal
of Champagne, was born in 1224 at the castle of Joinville on the Marne,
which afterwards became the property of the Orleans family, and was
destroyed during the Revolution. He died in 1319. He accompanied Saint
Louis on his unfortunate crusade in 1248, but not in his final and fatal
expedition to Tunis. Most of the few later events of his life known to us
were connected with the canonisation of the king; but he is known to have
taken part in active service when past his ninetieth year. His historical work,
a biography of St. Louis, deals chiefly with the crusade, and is one of the
most circumstantial records we have of mediaeval life and thought. It is of
much greater bulk than Villehardouin's Conquête, and is composed upon a
different principle, the author being somewhat addicted to gossip and apt to
digress from the main course of his narrative. It has, however, to be
remembered that Joinville's first object was not, like Villehardouin's, to give
an account of a single and definite enterprise, but to display the character of
his hero, to which end a certain amount of desultoriness was necessary and
desirable. His style has less vigour than that of his countryman and
predecessor, but it has more grace. It is evident that Joinville occasionally
set himself with deliberate purpose to describe things in a literary fashion,
and his interspersed reflections on manners and political subjects
considerably increase the material value of his work. It is unfortunate that
nothing like a contemporary manuscript has come down to us, the earliest in
existence being one of the late fourteenth century, when considerable
changes had passed over the language. With the aid of some contemporary
documents on matters of business which Joinville seems to have dictated,
M. de Wailly has effected an exceedingly ingenious conjectural restoration
of the text of the book, but the interest of this is in strictness diminished by
the fact that it is undoubtedly conjectural. The period of composition of
Joinville's book was somewhat late in his life, apparently in the first years
of the fourteenth century, and about 1310 he presented it to Louis le Hutin,
though it does not appear what became of the manuscript.
Page 164
The period between Joinville and Froissart is peculiarly barren in
chronicles. Besides the serial publications already noticed, the Chroniques
de France and the Chroniques de Flandre, there are perhaps only two
which are worth mentioning. The first is a Chronique des Quatre Premiers
Valois, written with exactness and careful attention to authentic sources of
information. The other is the Chronique of Jean Lebel, canon of Liège. This
is not only a work of considerable merit in itself, but still more remarkable
because it was the model, and something more, of Froissart. That historian
began by almost paraphrasing the work of Lebel; and though by degrees he
worked the early parts of his book into more and more original forms
according to the information which he picked up, these parts remained to
the last indebted to the author from whom they had been originally
compiled.
Froissart was born in 1337 and did not die till after
1409, the precise date of his death being unknown. Froissart.
There are few problems of literary criticism which are
more difficult than that of arranging a definitive edition of his famous
Chroniques[135]. In most cases the task of the critic is to decide which of
several manuscripts, all long posterior to the author's death, deserves most
confidence, or how to supply and correct the faults of a single document. In
Froissart's case there is, on the contrary, an embarrassing number of
seemingly authentic texts. During the whole of his long life, Froissart seems
to have been constantly occupied in altering, improving, and rectifying his
work, and copies of it in all its states are plentiful. The early printed editions
represent merely a single one of these; Buchon's is somewhat more
complete. But it is only within the last few years that the labours of M.
Kervyn de Lettenhove and M. Siméon Luce have made it possible (and not
yet entirely possible) to see the work in all its conditions. M. Kervyn de
Lettenhove's edition is complete and excellent as far as it goes. That of M.
Luce is still far from finished. The editor, however, has succeeded in
presenting three distinct versions of the first book. This is the most
interesting in substance, the least in manner and style. It deals with a period
most of which lay outside of Froissart's own knowledge, and in treating
which he was at first content to paraphrase Jean Lebel, though afterwards
he made this part of the book much more his own. It never, however,
attained to the gossiping picturesqueness of the later books (there are four
chronicles. Besides the serial publications already noticed, the Chroniques
de France and the Chroniques de Flandre, there are perhaps only two
which are worth mentioning. The first is a Chronique des Quatre Premiers
Valois, written with exactness and careful attention to authentic sources of
information. The other is the Chronique of Jean Lebel, canon of Liège. This
is not only a work of considerable merit in itself, but still more remarkable
because it was the model, and something more, of Froissart. That historian
began by almost paraphrasing the work of Lebel; and though by degrees he
worked the early parts of his book into more and more original forms
according to the information which he picked up, these parts remained to
the last indebted to the author from whom they had been originally
compiled.
Froissart was born in 1337 and did not die till after
1409, the precise date of his death being unknown. Froissart.
There are few problems of literary criticism which are
more difficult than that of arranging a definitive edition of his famous
Chroniques[135]. In most cases the task of the critic is to decide which of
several manuscripts, all long posterior to the author's death, deserves most
confidence, or how to supply and correct the faults of a single document. In
Froissart's case there is, on the contrary, an embarrassing number of
seemingly authentic texts. During the whole of his long life, Froissart seems
to have been constantly occupied in altering, improving, and rectifying his
work, and copies of it in all its states are plentiful. The early printed editions
represent merely a single one of these; Buchon's is somewhat more
complete. But it is only within the last few years that the labours of M.
Kervyn de Lettenhove and M. Siméon Luce have made it possible (and not
yet entirely possible) to see the work in all its conditions. M. Kervyn de
Lettenhove's edition is complete and excellent as far as it goes. That of M.
Luce is still far from finished. The editor, however, has succeeded in
presenting three distinct versions of the first book. This is the most
interesting in substance, the least in manner and style. It deals with a period
most of which lay outside of Froissart's own knowledge, and in treating
which he was at first content to paraphrase Jean Lebel, though afterwards
he made this part of the book much more his own. It never, however,
attained to the gossiping picturesqueness of the later books (there are four
Page 165
in all), in which the historian relies entirely on his own collections.
Although Cressy, Poitiers, and Najara may be of more importance than the
fruitless chevauchée of Buckingham through France, the gossip of the
Count de Foix' court, and the kite-and-crow battles of the Duke de Berri and
his officers with Aymerigot Marcel and Geoffrey Tête-Noire, they are much
less characteristic of Froissart. The literary instinct of Scott enabled him (in
a speech of Claverhouse[136]) exactly to appreciate our author. Some of his
admirers have striven to make out that traces of political wisdom are to be
found in the later books. If it be so, they are very deeply hidden. A sentence
which must have been written when Froissart was more than fifty years old
puts his point of view very clearly. Geoffrey Tête-Noire, the Breton
brigand, 'held a knight's life, or a squire's, of no more account than a
villain's,' and this is said as if it summed up the demerits of the free
companion. Beyond knights and ladies, tourneys and festivals, Froissart
sees nothing at all. But his admirable power of description enables him to
put what he did see as well as any writer has ever put it. Vast as his work is,
the narrative and picturesque charm never fails; and in a thousand different
lights the same subject, the singular afterglow of chivalry, which the
influence of certain English and French princes kept up in the fourteenth
century, is presented with a mastery rare in any but the best literature. He is
so completely indifferent to anything but this, that he does not take the
slightest trouble to hide the misery and the misgovernment which the
practical carrying out of his idea caused. Never, perhaps, was there a better
instance of a man of one idea, and certainly there never was any man by
whom his one idea was more attractively represented. To this day it is
difficult even with the clearest knowledge of the facts to rise from a perusal
of Froissart without an impression that the earlier period of the Hundred
Years' War was a sort of golden age in which all the virtues flourished,
except for occasional ugly outbreaks of the evil principle in the Jacquerie,
the Wat Tyler insurrection, and so forth. As a historian Froissart is, as we
should expect, not critical, and he carries the French habit of disfiguring
proper names and ignoring geographical and other trifles to a most
bewildering extent. But there is little doubt that he was diligent in collecting
and careful in recording his facts, and his extreme minuteness often
supplies gaps in less prolix chroniclers.
Although Cressy, Poitiers, and Najara may be of more importance than the
fruitless chevauchée of Buckingham through France, the gossip of the
Count de Foix' court, and the kite-and-crow battles of the Duke de Berri and
his officers with Aymerigot Marcel and Geoffrey Tête-Noire, they are much
less characteristic of Froissart. The literary instinct of Scott enabled him (in
a speech of Claverhouse[136]) exactly to appreciate our author. Some of his
admirers have striven to make out that traces of political wisdom are to be
found in the later books. If it be so, they are very deeply hidden. A sentence
which must have been written when Froissart was more than fifty years old
puts his point of view very clearly. Geoffrey Tête-Noire, the Breton
brigand, 'held a knight's life, or a squire's, of no more account than a
villain's,' and this is said as if it summed up the demerits of the free
companion. Beyond knights and ladies, tourneys and festivals, Froissart
sees nothing at all. But his admirable power of description enables him to
put what he did see as well as any writer has ever put it. Vast as his work is,
the narrative and picturesque charm never fails; and in a thousand different
lights the same subject, the singular afterglow of chivalry, which the
influence of certain English and French princes kept up in the fourteenth
century, is presented with a mastery rare in any but the best literature. He is
so completely indifferent to anything but this, that he does not take the
slightest trouble to hide the misery and the misgovernment which the
practical carrying out of his idea caused. Never, perhaps, was there a better
instance of a man of one idea, and certainly there never was any man by
whom his one idea was more attractively represented. To this day it is
difficult even with the clearest knowledge of the facts to rise from a perusal
of Froissart without an impression that the earlier period of the Hundred
Years' War was a sort of golden age in which all the virtues flourished,
except for occasional ugly outbreaks of the evil principle in the Jacquerie,
the Wat Tyler insurrection, and so forth. As a historian Froissart is, as we
should expect, not critical, and he carries the French habit of disfiguring
proper names and ignoring geographical and other trifles to a most
bewildering extent. But there is little doubt that he was diligent in collecting
and careful in recording his facts, and his extreme minuteness often
supplies gaps in less prolix chroniclers.
Page 166
The last century of the period which is included in this
chapter is extremely fertile in historians. These range Fifteenth-Century
themselves naturally in two classes; those who Chroniclers.
undertake more or less of a general history of the country during their time,
and those who devote themselves to special persons as biographers, or to
the recital of the events which more particularly concern a single city or
district. The first class, moreover, is more conveniently subdivided
according to the side which the chroniclers took on the great political duel
of their period, the struggle between Burgundy and France.
The Burgundian side was particularly rich in annalists. The study and
practice of historical writing had, as a consequence of the Chronicle of
Baudouin, and the success of Lebel and Froissart, taken deep root in the
cities of Flanders which were subject to the Duke of Burgundy, while the
magnificence and opulence of the ducal court and establishments naturally
attracted men of letters. Froissart's immediate successor, Enguerrand de
Monstrelet, belongs to this party. Monstrelet[137], who wrote a chronicle
covering the years 1400-1444, is not remarkable for elegance or
picturesqueness of style, but takes particular pains to copy exactly official
reports of speeches, treaties, letters, etc. Another important chronicle of the
same side is that of George Chastellain[138], a busy man of letters, who was
historiographer to the Duke of Burgundy, and wrote a history of the years
1419-1470. Chastellain was a man of learning and talent, but was somewhat
imbued with the heavy and pedantic style which both in poetry and prose
was becoming fashionable. The memoirs of Olivier de la Marche extend
from 1435 to 1489, and are also somewhat heavy, but less pedantic than
those of Chastellain. Dealing with the same period, and also written in the
Burgundian interest, are the memoirs of Jacques du Clerq, 1448-1467, and
of Lefèvre de Saint Rémy, 1407-1436; as also the Chronicle of Jehan de
Wavrin, beginning at the earliest times and coming down to 1472. Wavrin's
subject is nominally England, but the later part of his work of necessity
concerns France also.
The writers on the royalist side are of less importance and less numerous,
though individually perhaps of equal value. The chief of them are Mathieu
de Coucy, who continued the work of Monstrelet in a different political
spirit from 1444 to 1461; Pierre de Fenin, who wrote a history of part of the
chapter is extremely fertile in historians. These range Fifteenth-Century
themselves naturally in two classes; those who Chroniclers.
undertake more or less of a general history of the country during their time,
and those who devote themselves to special persons as biographers, or to
the recital of the events which more particularly concern a single city or
district. The first class, moreover, is more conveniently subdivided
according to the side which the chroniclers took on the great political duel
of their period, the struggle between Burgundy and France.
The Burgundian side was particularly rich in annalists. The study and
practice of historical writing had, as a consequence of the Chronicle of
Baudouin, and the success of Lebel and Froissart, taken deep root in the
cities of Flanders which were subject to the Duke of Burgundy, while the
magnificence and opulence of the ducal court and establishments naturally
attracted men of letters. Froissart's immediate successor, Enguerrand de
Monstrelet, belongs to this party. Monstrelet[137], who wrote a chronicle
covering the years 1400-1444, is not remarkable for elegance or
picturesqueness of style, but takes particular pains to copy exactly official
reports of speeches, treaties, letters, etc. Another important chronicle of the
same side is that of George Chastellain[138], a busy man of letters, who was
historiographer to the Duke of Burgundy, and wrote a history of the years
1419-1470. Chastellain was a man of learning and talent, but was somewhat
imbued with the heavy and pedantic style which both in poetry and prose
was becoming fashionable. The memoirs of Olivier de la Marche extend
from 1435 to 1489, and are also somewhat heavy, but less pedantic than
those of Chastellain. Dealing with the same period, and also written in the
Burgundian interest, are the memoirs of Jacques du Clerq, 1448-1467, and
of Lefèvre de Saint Rémy, 1407-1436; as also the Chronicle of Jehan de
Wavrin, beginning at the earliest times and coming down to 1472. Wavrin's
subject is nominally England, but the later part of his work of necessity
concerns France also.
The writers on the royalist side are of less importance and less numerous,
though individually perhaps of equal value. The chief of them are Mathieu
de Coucy, who continued the work of Monstrelet in a different political
spirit from 1444 to 1461; Pierre de Fenin, who wrote a history of part of the
Page 167
reign of Charles VI; and Jean Juvenal des Ursins[139], a statesman and
ecclesiastic, who has dealt more at length with the whole of the same reign.
Of these Juvenal des Ursins takes the first rank, and is one of the best
authorities for his period; but from a literary point of view he cannot be
very highly spoken of, though there is a certain simplicity about his manner
which is superior to the elaborate pedantry of not a few of his
contemporaries and immediate successors.
The second class has the longest list of names, and perhaps the most
interesting constituents. First may be mentioned Le Livre des Faits et
bonnes Mœurs du sage roi Charles V. This is an elaborate panegyric by the
poetess Christine de Pisan, full of learning, good sense, and sound morality,
but somewhat injured by the classical phrases, the foreign idioms, and the
miscellaneous erudition, which characterise the school to which Christine
belonged. Far more interesting is the Livre des Faits du Maréchal de
Bouciqualt[140], a book which is a not unworthy companion and
commentary to Froissart, exhibiting the kind of errant chivalry which
characterised the fourteenth century, and in part the fifteenth, and which so
greatly assisted the English in their conflicts with the French. Joan of Arc
was made, as might have been expected, the subject of numerous chronicles
and memoirs which have come down to us under the names of Cousinot,
Cochon, and Berry. The Constable of Richemont, who had the credit of
overthrowing the last remnant of English domination at the battle of
Formigny, found a biographer in Guillaume Gruel.
Lastly have to be mentioned three curious works of great value and interest
bearing on this time. These are the journals of a citizen of Paris[141] (or two
such), which extend from 1409 to 1422, and from 1424 to 1440, and the so-
called Chronique scandaleuse of Jean de Troyes covering the reign of Louis
XI. These, with the already-mentioned chronicle of Juvenal des Ursins, are
filled with the minutest information on all kinds of points. The prices of
articles of merchandise, the ravages of wolves, etc., are recorded, so that in
them almost as much light is thrown on the social life of the period as by a
file of modern newspapers. The chronicle of Jean Chartier, brother of Alain,
that of Molinet in continuance of Chastellain, and the short memoirs of
Villeneuve, complete the list of works of this class that deserve mention.
Examples of the three great French historians of the middle ages follow:—
ecclesiastic, who has dealt more at length with the whole of the same reign.
Of these Juvenal des Ursins takes the first rank, and is one of the best
authorities for his period; but from a literary point of view he cannot be
very highly spoken of, though there is a certain simplicity about his manner
which is superior to the elaborate pedantry of not a few of his
contemporaries and immediate successors.
The second class has the longest list of names, and perhaps the most
interesting constituents. First may be mentioned Le Livre des Faits et
bonnes Mœurs du sage roi Charles V. This is an elaborate panegyric by the
poetess Christine de Pisan, full of learning, good sense, and sound morality,
but somewhat injured by the classical phrases, the foreign idioms, and the
miscellaneous erudition, which characterise the school to which Christine
belonged. Far more interesting is the Livre des Faits du Maréchal de
Bouciqualt[140], a book which is a not unworthy companion and
commentary to Froissart, exhibiting the kind of errant chivalry which
characterised the fourteenth century, and in part the fifteenth, and which so
greatly assisted the English in their conflicts with the French. Joan of Arc
was made, as might have been expected, the subject of numerous chronicles
and memoirs which have come down to us under the names of Cousinot,
Cochon, and Berry. The Constable of Richemont, who had the credit of
overthrowing the last remnant of English domination at the battle of
Formigny, found a biographer in Guillaume Gruel.
Lastly have to be mentioned three curious works of great value and interest
bearing on this time. These are the journals of a citizen of Paris[141] (or two
such), which extend from 1409 to 1422, and from 1424 to 1440, and the so-
called Chronique scandaleuse of Jean de Troyes covering the reign of Louis
XI. These, with the already-mentioned chronicle of Juvenal des Ursins, are
filled with the minutest information on all kinds of points. The prices of
articles of merchandise, the ravages of wolves, etc., are recorded, so that in
them almost as much light is thrown on the social life of the period as by a
file of modern newspapers. The chronicle of Jean Chartier, brother of Alain,
that of Molinet in continuance of Chastellain, and the short memoirs of
Villeneuve, complete the list of works of this class that deserve mention.
Examples of the three great French historians of the middle ages follow:—
Page 168
Villehardouin.
La velle de la saint Martin vindrent devant Gadres en
Esclavonie, si virent la cité fermee de halz murs et de haltes
torz, et pour noiant demandissiés plus bele ne plus fort ne plus
riche. et quant li pelerin la virent, il se merveillerent mult et
distrent li uns a l'autre 'coment porroit estre prise tel vile par
force, se diex meïsmes nel fait?' Les premieres nés vindrent
devant la vile et aëncrerent et atendirent les autres et al matin
fist mult bel jor et mult cler, et vinrent les galies totes et li
huissier et les autres nés qui estoient arrieres, et pristrent le port
par force et rompirent la chaaine qui mult ere forz et bien
atornee, et descendirent a terre, si que li porz fu entr'aus et la
vile. lor veïssiez maint chevalier et maint serjant issir des nés et
maint bon destrier traire des huissiers et maint riche tref et maint
pavellon.
Einsine se loja l'oz et fu Gadres assegie le jor de la saint Martin.
a cele foiz ne furent mie venu tuit li baron, ear encor n'ere mie
venuz li marchis de Montferrat qui ere remés arriere por afaire
que il avoit. Estiennes del Perche fu remés malades en Venise et
Mahis de Monmorenci, et quant il furent gari, si s'en vint Mahis
de Monmorenci aprés l'ost a Gadrez; mes Estienes del Perche ne
le fist mie si bien, quar il guerpi l'ost et s'en ala en Puille
sejorner. avec lui s'en ala Rotrox de Monfort et Ives de la Ille et
maint autre, qui mult en furent blasmé, et passerent au passage
de marz en Surie.
L'endemain de la saint Martin issirent de cels de Gadres et
vindrent parler le duc de Venise qui ere en son paveillon, et li
distrent que il li rendroient la cité et totes les lor choses sals lor
cors en sa merci. et li dus dist qu'il n'en prendroit mie cestui plet
ne autre, se par le conseil non as contes et as barons, et qu'il en
iroit a els parler.
Endementiers que il ala parler as contes et as barons, icele partie
dont vos avez oï arrieres, qui voloient l'ost depecier, parlerent as
messages et lor distrent 'por quoi volez vos rendre vostre cité? li
La velle de la saint Martin vindrent devant Gadres en
Esclavonie, si virent la cité fermee de halz murs et de haltes
torz, et pour noiant demandissiés plus bele ne plus fort ne plus
riche. et quant li pelerin la virent, il se merveillerent mult et
distrent li uns a l'autre 'coment porroit estre prise tel vile par
force, se diex meïsmes nel fait?' Les premieres nés vindrent
devant la vile et aëncrerent et atendirent les autres et al matin
fist mult bel jor et mult cler, et vinrent les galies totes et li
huissier et les autres nés qui estoient arrieres, et pristrent le port
par force et rompirent la chaaine qui mult ere forz et bien
atornee, et descendirent a terre, si que li porz fu entr'aus et la
vile. lor veïssiez maint chevalier et maint serjant issir des nés et
maint bon destrier traire des huissiers et maint riche tref et maint
pavellon.
Einsine se loja l'oz et fu Gadres assegie le jor de la saint Martin.
a cele foiz ne furent mie venu tuit li baron, ear encor n'ere mie
venuz li marchis de Montferrat qui ere remés arriere por afaire
que il avoit. Estiennes del Perche fu remés malades en Venise et
Mahis de Monmorenci, et quant il furent gari, si s'en vint Mahis
de Monmorenci aprés l'ost a Gadrez; mes Estienes del Perche ne
le fist mie si bien, quar il guerpi l'ost et s'en ala en Puille
sejorner. avec lui s'en ala Rotrox de Monfort et Ives de la Ille et
maint autre, qui mult en furent blasmé, et passerent au passage
de marz en Surie.
L'endemain de la saint Martin issirent de cels de Gadres et
vindrent parler le duc de Venise qui ere en son paveillon, et li
distrent que il li rendroient la cité et totes les lor choses sals lor
cors en sa merci. et li dus dist qu'il n'en prendroit mie cestui plet
ne autre, se par le conseil non as contes et as barons, et qu'il en
iroit a els parler.
Endementiers que il ala parler as contes et as barons, icele partie
dont vos avez oï arrieres, qui voloient l'ost depecier, parlerent as
messages et lor distrent 'por quoi volez vos rendre vostre cité? li
Page 169
pelerin ne vos assaldront mie ne d'aus n'avez vos garde, se vos
vos poëz defendre des Venisïens, dont estes vos quites.' et ensi
pristrent un d'aus meïsmes qui avoit non Robert de Bove, qui ala
as murs de la vile et lor dist ce meïsmes. Ensi entrerent li
message en la vile et fu li plais remés. Li dus de Venise com il
vint as contes et as barons, si lor dist 'seignor, ensi voelent cil de
la dedanz rendre la cité sals lor cors a ma merci, ne je ne
prendroie cestui plait ne autre se per voz conseill non' et li baron
li respondirent 'sire, nos vos loons que vos le preigniez et si le
vos prïon.' et il dist que il le feroit. Et il s'en tornerent tuit
ensemble al paveillon le duc por le plait prendre, et troverent
que li message s'en furent alé par le conseil a cels qui voloient
l'ost depecier. E dont se dreça uns abes de Vals de l'ordre de
Cistials, et lor dist 'seignor, je vos deffent de par l'apostoile de
Rome que vos ne assailliez ceste cité, quar ele est de crestïens et
vos iestes pelerin.' Et quant ce oï li dus, si en fu mult iriez et
destroiz et dist as contes et as barons 'seignor, je avoie de ceste
vile plait a ma volonté, et vostre gent le m'ont tolu et vos
m'aviez convent que vos le m'aideriez a conquerre, et je vos
semoing que vos le façoiz.'
Maintenant li conte et li baron parlerent ensemble et cil qui a la
lor partie se tenoient, et distrent 'mult ont fait grant oltrage cil
qui ont cest plait desfet, et il ne fu onques jorz que il ne meïssent
paine a cest ost depecier. or somes nos honi, se nos ne l'aidons a
prendre.' Et il vienent al duc et li dïent 'sire, nos le vos aiderons
a prendre por mal de cels qui destorné l'ont.' Ensi fu li consels
pris; et al matin alerent logier devant les portes de la vile, et si
drecierent lor perrieres et lor mangonials et lor autres engins
dont il avoient assez; et devers la mer drecierent les eschieles
sor les nés. lor commencierent a la vile a geter les pieres as murz
et as lors. Ensi dura cil asals bien por v jors et lor si mistrent lors
trenchëors a une tour, et cil commencierent a trenchier le mur. et
quant cil dedenz virent ce, si quistrent plait tot atretel com il
l'avoient refusé par le conseil a cels qui l'ost voloient depecier.
Joinville.
vos poëz defendre des Venisïens, dont estes vos quites.' et ensi
pristrent un d'aus meïsmes qui avoit non Robert de Bove, qui ala
as murs de la vile et lor dist ce meïsmes. Ensi entrerent li
message en la vile et fu li plais remés. Li dus de Venise com il
vint as contes et as barons, si lor dist 'seignor, ensi voelent cil de
la dedanz rendre la cité sals lor cors a ma merci, ne je ne
prendroie cestui plait ne autre se per voz conseill non' et li baron
li respondirent 'sire, nos vos loons que vos le preigniez et si le
vos prïon.' et il dist que il le feroit. Et il s'en tornerent tuit
ensemble al paveillon le duc por le plait prendre, et troverent
que li message s'en furent alé par le conseil a cels qui voloient
l'ost depecier. E dont se dreça uns abes de Vals de l'ordre de
Cistials, et lor dist 'seignor, je vos deffent de par l'apostoile de
Rome que vos ne assailliez ceste cité, quar ele est de crestïens et
vos iestes pelerin.' Et quant ce oï li dus, si en fu mult iriez et
destroiz et dist as contes et as barons 'seignor, je avoie de ceste
vile plait a ma volonté, et vostre gent le m'ont tolu et vos
m'aviez convent que vos le m'aideriez a conquerre, et je vos
semoing que vos le façoiz.'
Maintenant li conte et li baron parlerent ensemble et cil qui a la
lor partie se tenoient, et distrent 'mult ont fait grant oltrage cil
qui ont cest plait desfet, et il ne fu onques jorz que il ne meïssent
paine a cest ost depecier. or somes nos honi, se nos ne l'aidons a
prendre.' Et il vienent al duc et li dïent 'sire, nos le vos aiderons
a prendre por mal de cels qui destorné l'ont.' Ensi fu li consels
pris; et al matin alerent logier devant les portes de la vile, et si
drecierent lor perrieres et lor mangonials et lor autres engins
dont il avoient assez; et devers la mer drecierent les eschieles
sor les nés. lor commencierent a la vile a geter les pieres as murz
et as lors. Ensi dura cil asals bien por v jors et lor si mistrent lors
trenchëors a une tour, et cil commencierent a trenchier le mur. et
quant cil dedenz virent ce, si quistrent plait tot atretel com il
l'avoient refusé par le conseil a cels qui l'ost voloient depecier.
Joinville.
Page 170
Au mois d'aoust entrames en nos neis a la Roche de Marseille: a
celle journée que nous entrames en nos neis, fist l'on ouvrir la
porte de la nef, et mist l'on touz nos chevaus ens, que nous
deviens mener outre mer; et puis reclost l'on la porte et
l'enboucha l'on bien, aussi comme l'on naye un tonnel. pour ce
que, quant le neis est en la grant mer, toute la porte est en l'yaue.
Quant li cheval furent ens, nostre maistres notonniers escrïa a
ses notonniers qui estoient ou bec de la nef et lour dist 'est aree
vostre besoingne?' et il respondirent 'oïl, sire, vieingnent avant
clerc et li provere.' Maintenant que il furent venu, il lour escrïa
'chantez de par dieu'; et il s'escrïerent tuit a une voiz 'veni
creator spiritus.' et il escrïa a ses notonniers 'faites voile de par
dieu'; et il si firent. et en brief tens li venz se feri ou voile et
nous ot tolu la vëue de la terre, que nous ne veïsmes que ciel et
yaue: et chascun jour nous esloigna li venz des païs ou nous
avions estei neiz. et ces choses vous moustre je que cil est bien
fol hardis, qui se ose mettre en tel peril atout autrui chatel ou en
pechié mortel; ear l'on se dort le soir la ou on ne set se l'on se
trouvera ou font de la mer au matin.
En la mer nous avint une fiere merveille, que nous trouvames
une montaigne toute ronde qui estoit devant Barbarie. nous la
trouvames entour l'eure de vespres et najames tout le soir, et
cuidames bien avoir fait plus de cinquante lieues, et lendemain
nous nous trouvames devant icelle meïsmes montaigne; et ainsi
nous avint par dous foiz ou par trois. Quant li marinnier virent
ce, il furent tuit esbahi et nous distrent que nos neis estoient en
grant peril; ear nous estiens devant la terre aus Sarrazins de
Barbarie. Lors nous dist uns preudom prestres que on appeloit
doyen de Malrut, ear il n'ot onques persecucïon en paroisse. ne
par defaut d'yaue ne de trop pluie ne d'autre persecucïon, que
aussi tost comme il avoit fait trois processïons par trois samedis,
que diex et sa mere ne le delivrassent. Samedis estoit: nous
feïsmes la premiere processïon entour les dous maz de la nef; je
meïsmes m'i fiz porter par les braz, pour ce que je estoie grief
malades. Onques puis nous ne veïsmes la montaigne, et venimes
en Cypre le tiers samedi.
celle journée que nous entrames en nos neis, fist l'on ouvrir la
porte de la nef, et mist l'on touz nos chevaus ens, que nous
deviens mener outre mer; et puis reclost l'on la porte et
l'enboucha l'on bien, aussi comme l'on naye un tonnel. pour ce
que, quant le neis est en la grant mer, toute la porte est en l'yaue.
Quant li cheval furent ens, nostre maistres notonniers escrïa a
ses notonniers qui estoient ou bec de la nef et lour dist 'est aree
vostre besoingne?' et il respondirent 'oïl, sire, vieingnent avant
clerc et li provere.' Maintenant que il furent venu, il lour escrïa
'chantez de par dieu'; et il s'escrïerent tuit a une voiz 'veni
creator spiritus.' et il escrïa a ses notonniers 'faites voile de par
dieu'; et il si firent. et en brief tens li venz se feri ou voile et
nous ot tolu la vëue de la terre, que nous ne veïsmes que ciel et
yaue: et chascun jour nous esloigna li venz des païs ou nous
avions estei neiz. et ces choses vous moustre je que cil est bien
fol hardis, qui se ose mettre en tel peril atout autrui chatel ou en
pechié mortel; ear l'on se dort le soir la ou on ne set se l'on se
trouvera ou font de la mer au matin.
En la mer nous avint une fiere merveille, que nous trouvames
une montaigne toute ronde qui estoit devant Barbarie. nous la
trouvames entour l'eure de vespres et najames tout le soir, et
cuidames bien avoir fait plus de cinquante lieues, et lendemain
nous nous trouvames devant icelle meïsmes montaigne; et ainsi
nous avint par dous foiz ou par trois. Quant li marinnier virent
ce, il furent tuit esbahi et nous distrent que nos neis estoient en
grant peril; ear nous estiens devant la terre aus Sarrazins de
Barbarie. Lors nous dist uns preudom prestres que on appeloit
doyen de Malrut, ear il n'ot onques persecucïon en paroisse. ne
par defaut d'yaue ne de trop pluie ne d'autre persecucïon, que
aussi tost comme il avoit fait trois processïons par trois samedis,
que diex et sa mere ne le delivrassent. Samedis estoit: nous
feïsmes la premiere processïon entour les dous maz de la nef; je
meïsmes m'i fiz porter par les braz, pour ce que je estoie grief
malades. Onques puis nous ne veïsmes la montaigne, et venimes
en Cypre le tiers samedi.
Page 171
Froissart.
Je fuis adont infourmé par le seigneur d'Estonnevort, et me dist
que il vey, et aussi firent plusieurs, quant l'oriflambe fut
desploiee et la bruïne se chey, ung blanc coulon voller et faire
plusieurs volz par dessus la baniere du roy; et quant il eut assez
volé, et que on se deubt combatre et assambler aux ennemis, il
se print a sëoir sur l'une des bannieres du roy; dont on tint ce a
grant signiffïance de bien. Or approchierent les Flamens et
commenchierent a jetter et a traire de bombardes et de canons et
de gros quarreaulx empenez d'arain; ainsi se commença la
bataille. Et en ot le roy de France et ses gens le premier
encontre, qui leur fut moult dur; ear ces Flamens, qui
descendoient orgueilleusement et de grant voulenté, venoient
roit et dur, et boutoient en venant de l'espaule et de la poitrine
ainsi comme senglers tous foursenez, et estoient si fort
entrelachiés tous ensemble qu'on ne les povoit ouvrir ne
desrompre. La fuirent du costé des François par le trait des
canons, des bombardes et des arbalestres premierement mort: le
seigneur de Waurin, baneret, Morelet de Halwin et Jacques
d'Ere. Et adont fut la bataille du roy reculee; mais l'avantgarde et
l'arrieregarde a deux lez passerent oultre et enclouïrent ces
Flamens, et les misrent a l'estroit. Je vous diray comment sur ces
deux eles gens d'armes les commencierent a pousser de leurs
roides lances a longs fers et durs de Bourdeaulx, qui leur
passoient ces cottes de maille tout oultre et les perchoient en
char; dont ceulx qui estoient attains et navrez de ces fers se
restraindoient pour eschiever les horïons; ear jamais ou amender
le peuïssent ne se boutoient avant pour eulx faire destruire. La
les misrent ces gens d'armes a tel destroit qu'ilz ne se sçavoient
ne povoient aidier ne ravoir leurs bras ne leurs planchons pour
ferir ne eulz deffendre. La perdoient les plusieurs force et alaine,
et la tresbuchoient l'un sur l'autre, et se estindoient et moroient
sans coup ferir. La fut Phelippe d'Artevelle encloz et pousé de
glaive et abatu, et gens de Gand qui l'amoient et gardoient grant
plenté atterrez entour luy. Quant le page dudit Phelippe vey la
mesadventure venir sur les leurs, il estoit bien monté sur bon
Je fuis adont infourmé par le seigneur d'Estonnevort, et me dist
que il vey, et aussi firent plusieurs, quant l'oriflambe fut
desploiee et la bruïne se chey, ung blanc coulon voller et faire
plusieurs volz par dessus la baniere du roy; et quant il eut assez
volé, et que on se deubt combatre et assambler aux ennemis, il
se print a sëoir sur l'une des bannieres du roy; dont on tint ce a
grant signiffïance de bien. Or approchierent les Flamens et
commenchierent a jetter et a traire de bombardes et de canons et
de gros quarreaulx empenez d'arain; ainsi se commença la
bataille. Et en ot le roy de France et ses gens le premier
encontre, qui leur fut moult dur; ear ces Flamens, qui
descendoient orgueilleusement et de grant voulenté, venoient
roit et dur, et boutoient en venant de l'espaule et de la poitrine
ainsi comme senglers tous foursenez, et estoient si fort
entrelachiés tous ensemble qu'on ne les povoit ouvrir ne
desrompre. La fuirent du costé des François par le trait des
canons, des bombardes et des arbalestres premierement mort: le
seigneur de Waurin, baneret, Morelet de Halwin et Jacques
d'Ere. Et adont fut la bataille du roy reculee; mais l'avantgarde et
l'arrieregarde a deux lez passerent oultre et enclouïrent ces
Flamens, et les misrent a l'estroit. Je vous diray comment sur ces
deux eles gens d'armes les commencierent a pousser de leurs
roides lances a longs fers et durs de Bourdeaulx, qui leur
passoient ces cottes de maille tout oultre et les perchoient en
char; dont ceulx qui estoient attains et navrez de ces fers se
restraindoient pour eschiever les horïons; ear jamais ou amender
le peuïssent ne se boutoient avant pour eulx faire destruire. La
les misrent ces gens d'armes a tel destroit qu'ilz ne se sçavoient
ne povoient aidier ne ravoir leurs bras ne leurs planchons pour
ferir ne eulz deffendre. La perdoient les plusieurs force et alaine,
et la tresbuchoient l'un sur l'autre, et se estindoient et moroient
sans coup ferir. La fut Phelippe d'Artevelle encloz et pousé de
glaive et abatu, et gens de Gand qui l'amoient et gardoient grant
plenté atterrez entour luy. Quant le page dudit Phelippe vey la
mesadventure venir sur les leurs, il estoit bien monté sur bon
Page 172
coursier, si se party et laissa son maistre, ear il ne le povoit
aidier; et retourna vers Courtray pour revenir a Gand.
(A)insi fut faitte et assamblee celle bataille; et lors que des deux
costez les Flamens furent astrains et encloz, ilz ne passerent plus
avant, ear ilz ne se povoient aidier. Adont se remist la bataille du
roy en vigeur, qui avoit de commencement ung petit branslé. La
entendoient gens d'armes a abatre Flamens en grant nombre, et
avoient les plusieurs haches acerees, dont ilz rompoient ces
bachinets et eschervelloient testes; et les aucuns plommees, dont
ilz donnoient si grans horrïons, qu'ilz les abatoient a terre. A
paines estoient Flamens chëuz, quant pillars venoient qui entre
les gens d'armes se boutoient et portoient grandes coutilles, dont
ilz les partüoient; ne nulle pitié n'en avoient non plus que se ce
fuissent chiens. La estoit le clicquetis sur ces bacinets si grant et
si hault, d'espees, de haches, et de plommees, que l'en n'y ouoit
goutte pour la noise. Et ouÿ dire que, se tous les heaumiers de
Paris et de Brouxelles estoient ensemble, leur mestier faisant, ilz
n'euïssent pas fait si grant noise comme faisoient les combatans
et les ferans sur ces testes et sur ces bachinets. La ne
s'espargnoient point chevalliers ne escuïers ainchois mettoient la
main a l'euvre par grant voulenté, et plus les ungs que les autres;
si en y ot aucuns qui s'avancerent et bouterent en la presse trop
avant; ear ilz y furent encloz et estains, et par especïal messire
Loÿs de Cousant, ung chevallier de Berry, et messire Fleton de
Revel, filz au seigneur de Revel; mais encoires en y eut des
autres, dont ce fut dommage: mais si grosse bataille, dont celle
la fut, ou tant avoit de pueple, ne se povoit parfurnir et au
mieulx venir pour les victorïens, que elle ne couste grandement.
Car jeunes chevalliers et escuïers qui desirent les armes se
avancent voulentiers pour leur honneur et pour acquerre loënge;
et la presse estoit la si grande et le dangier si perilleux pour
ceulx qui estoient enclos ou abatus, que se on n'avoit trop bonne
ayde, on ne se povoit relever. Par ce party y eut des Françoiz
mors et estains aucuns; mais plenté ne fut ce mie; ear quant il
venoit a point, ilz aidoient l'un l'autre. La eut ung molt grant
nombre de Flamens occis, dont les tas des mors estoient haulx et
aidier; et retourna vers Courtray pour revenir a Gand.
(A)insi fut faitte et assamblee celle bataille; et lors que des deux
costez les Flamens furent astrains et encloz, ilz ne passerent plus
avant, ear ilz ne se povoient aidier. Adont se remist la bataille du
roy en vigeur, qui avoit de commencement ung petit branslé. La
entendoient gens d'armes a abatre Flamens en grant nombre, et
avoient les plusieurs haches acerees, dont ilz rompoient ces
bachinets et eschervelloient testes; et les aucuns plommees, dont
ilz donnoient si grans horrïons, qu'ilz les abatoient a terre. A
paines estoient Flamens chëuz, quant pillars venoient qui entre
les gens d'armes se boutoient et portoient grandes coutilles, dont
ilz les partüoient; ne nulle pitié n'en avoient non plus que se ce
fuissent chiens. La estoit le clicquetis sur ces bacinets si grant et
si hault, d'espees, de haches, et de plommees, que l'en n'y ouoit
goutte pour la noise. Et ouÿ dire que, se tous les heaumiers de
Paris et de Brouxelles estoient ensemble, leur mestier faisant, ilz
n'euïssent pas fait si grant noise comme faisoient les combatans
et les ferans sur ces testes et sur ces bachinets. La ne
s'espargnoient point chevalliers ne escuïers ainchois mettoient la
main a l'euvre par grant voulenté, et plus les ungs que les autres;
si en y ot aucuns qui s'avancerent et bouterent en la presse trop
avant; ear ilz y furent encloz et estains, et par especïal messire
Loÿs de Cousant, ung chevallier de Berry, et messire Fleton de
Revel, filz au seigneur de Revel; mais encoires en y eut des
autres, dont ce fut dommage: mais si grosse bataille, dont celle
la fut, ou tant avoit de pueple, ne se povoit parfurnir et au
mieulx venir pour les victorïens, que elle ne couste grandement.
Car jeunes chevalliers et escuïers qui desirent les armes se
avancent voulentiers pour leur honneur et pour acquerre loënge;
et la presse estoit la si grande et le dangier si perilleux pour
ceulx qui estoient enclos ou abatus, que se on n'avoit trop bonne
ayde, on ne se povoit relever. Par ce party y eut des Françoiz
mors et estains aucuns; mais plenté ne fut ce mie; ear quant il
venoit a point, ilz aidoient l'un l'autre. La eut ung molt grant
nombre de Flamens occis, dont les tas des mors estoient haulx et
Page 173
longs ou la bataille avoit esté; on ne vey jamais si peu de sang
yssir a tant de mors.
Quant les Flamens qui estoient derriere veirent que ceulx devant
fondoient et chëoient l'un sus l'autre et que ilz estoient tous
desconfis, ilz s'esbahirent et jetterent leurs plançons par terre et
leurs armures et se misrent a la fuitte vers Courtray et ailleurs.
Ilz n'avoient cure que pour eulx mettre a sauveté. Et Franchois et
Bretons aprés, quy les chassoient en fossez et en buissons, en
aunois et an marés et bruieres, cy dix, cy vingt, cy trente, et la
les recombatoient de rechief, et la les occïoient, se ilz n'estoient
les plus fors. Si en y eut ung moult grant nombre de mors en la
chace entre le lieu de la bataille et Courtray, ou ilz se retraioient
a saulf garant. Ceste bataille advint sur le Mont d'Or entre
Courtray et Rosebeque en l'an de grace nostre seigneur, mil iijc.
iiijxx. et II., le jeudi devant le samedi de l'advent, le xxvije. jour
de novembre, et estoit pour lors le roy Charles de France ou
xiiije. an de son ëage.
yssir a tant de mors.
Quant les Flamens qui estoient derriere veirent que ceulx devant
fondoient et chëoient l'un sus l'autre et que ilz estoient tous
desconfis, ilz s'esbahirent et jetterent leurs plançons par terre et
leurs armures et se misrent a la fuitte vers Courtray et ailleurs.
Ilz n'avoient cure que pour eulx mettre a sauveté. Et Franchois et
Bretons aprés, quy les chassoient en fossez et en buissons, en
aunois et an marés et bruieres, cy dix, cy vingt, cy trente, et la
les recombatoient de rechief, et la les occïoient, se ilz n'estoient
les plus fors. Si en y eut ung moult grant nombre de mors en la
chace entre le lieu de la bataille et Courtray, ou ilz se retraioient
a saulf garant. Ceste bataille advint sur le Mont d'Or entre
Courtray et Rosebeque en l'an de grace nostre seigneur, mil iijc.
iiijxx. et II., le jeudi devant le samedi de l'advent, le xxvije. jour
de novembre, et estoit pour lors le roy Charles de France ou
xiiije. an de son ëage.
Page 174
FOOTNOTES:
[131] The chronicle of the pseudo-Turpin is of little real importance in the
history of French literature, because it is admitted to have been written in Latin.
The busy idleness of critics has however prompted them to discuss at great
length the question whether the Chanson de Roland may not possibly have been
composed from this chronicle. The facts are these. Tilpin or Turpin was actually
archbishop of Rheims from 753-794, but nobody pretends that the chronicle
going under his name is authentic. All that is certain is that it is not later than
1165, and that it is probably not earlier than the middle, or at most the beginning,
of the eleventh century, while the part of it which is more particularly in question
is of the end of that century. Roland is almost certainly of the middle at latest.
Curiosity on this point may be gratified by consulting M. Gaston Paris, De
pseudo-Turpino, Paris, 1865, or M. Léon Gautier, Epopées Françaises, Paris,
1878. But, from the literary point of view, it is sufficient to say that, while
Turpin is of the very smallest literary merit, Roland is among the capital works
of the middle ages.
[132] Ed. N. de Wailly. Paris, 1874.
[133] Ed. P. Paris. 2 vols., 1879-80. It is characteristic of the middle ages that
this work usually bore the title of Roman d'Eracle, for no other reason than that
the name of Héraclius occurs in the first sentence.
[134] Ed. N. de Wailly. Paris, 1874. Besides the Histoire de St. Louis, Joinville
has left an interesting Credo, a brief religious manual written much earlier in his
life.
[135] Ed. Kervyn de Lettenhove. 20 vols., Brussels. Ed. S. Luce, Paris, in course
of publication. The edition of Buchon, 3 vols., Paris, 1855, is still the best for
general use. Froissart's poems give many biographical details which are
interesting, but unimportant. He wandered all his life from court to court,
patronised and pensioned by kings, queens, and princes. He was successively
curé of Lestines and canon of Chimay. In early life he was much in England,
being specially patronised by Edward III. and Philippa.
[136] Old Mortality, chap. 35.
[137] Ed. Buchon. Paris, 1858.
[138] Chastellain has been fortunate, like most Flemish writers, in being
excellently and completely edited (by M. Kervyn de Lettenhove. 8 vols.,
Brussels).
[139] Ed. Michaud et Poujoulat.
[140] Ed. Michaud et Poujoulat.
[141] Ed. Michaud et Poujoulat, in whose collection most of the many authors
here mentioned will be also found.
[131] The chronicle of the pseudo-Turpin is of little real importance in the
history of French literature, because it is admitted to have been written in Latin.
The busy idleness of critics has however prompted them to discuss at great
length the question whether the Chanson de Roland may not possibly have been
composed from this chronicle. The facts are these. Tilpin or Turpin was actually
archbishop of Rheims from 753-794, but nobody pretends that the chronicle
going under his name is authentic. All that is certain is that it is not later than
1165, and that it is probably not earlier than the middle, or at most the beginning,
of the eleventh century, while the part of it which is more particularly in question
is of the end of that century. Roland is almost certainly of the middle at latest.
Curiosity on this point may be gratified by consulting M. Gaston Paris, De
pseudo-Turpino, Paris, 1865, or M. Léon Gautier, Epopées Françaises, Paris,
1878. But, from the literary point of view, it is sufficient to say that, while
Turpin is of the very smallest literary merit, Roland is among the capital works
of the middle ages.
[132] Ed. N. de Wailly. Paris, 1874.
[133] Ed. P. Paris. 2 vols., 1879-80. It is characteristic of the middle ages that
this work usually bore the title of Roman d'Eracle, for no other reason than that
the name of Héraclius occurs in the first sentence.
[134] Ed. N. de Wailly. Paris, 1874. Besides the Histoire de St. Louis, Joinville
has left an interesting Credo, a brief religious manual written much earlier in his
life.
[135] Ed. Kervyn de Lettenhove. 20 vols., Brussels. Ed. S. Luce, Paris, in course
of publication. The edition of Buchon, 3 vols., Paris, 1855, is still the best for
general use. Froissart's poems give many biographical details which are
interesting, but unimportant. He wandered all his life from court to court,
patronised and pensioned by kings, queens, and princes. He was successively
curé of Lestines and canon of Chimay. In early life he was much in England,
being specially patronised by Edward III. and Philippa.
[136] Old Mortality, chap. 35.
[137] Ed. Buchon. Paris, 1858.
[138] Chastellain has been fortunate, like most Flemish writers, in being
excellently and completely edited (by M. Kervyn de Lettenhove. 8 vols.,
Brussels).
[139] Ed. Michaud et Poujoulat.
[140] Ed. Michaud et Poujoulat.
[141] Ed. Michaud et Poujoulat, in whose collection most of the many authors
here mentioned will be also found.
Page 175
Page 176
CHAPTER XII.
MISCELLANEOUS PROSE.
It was natural, and indeed necessary, that, when the use
of prose as an allowable vehicle for literary composition General use of
Prose.
was once understood and established, it should gradually
but rapidly supersede the more troublesome and far less appropriate form of
verse. Accordingly we find that, from the beginning of the thirteenth
century, the amount of prose literature is constantly on the increase. It
happens, however, or, to speak more precisely, it follows that this
miscellaneous prose literature is of much less importance and of much less
interest than the contemporary and kindred literature in verse. For in the
nature of things much of it was occupied with what may be called the
journey-work of literature,—the stuff which, unless there be some special
attraction in its form, grows obsolete, or retains a merely antiquarian
interest in the course of time. There was, moreover, still among the chief
patrons of literature a preference for verse which diverted the brightest
spirits to the practice of that form. Yet again, the best prose composition of
the middle ages, with the exception of a few works of fiction, is to be found
in its chronicles, and these have already been noticed. A review, therefore,
much less minute in scale than that which in the first ten chapters of this
book has been given to the mediaeval poetry of France, will suffice for its
mediaeval prose, and such a review will appropriately close the survey of
the literature of the middle ages.
It has already been pointed out in the first chapter that
documentary evidence exists to prove the custom of Prose Sermons. St.
Bernard.
preaching in French (or at least in lingua romana) at a
very early date. It is not, however, till many centuries
after the date of Mummolinus, that there is any trace of Maurice de Sully.
regularly written vernacular discourses. When these
appear in the twelfth century the Provençal dialects Later Preachers.
Gerson.
appear to have the start of French proper. Whether the
forty-four prose sermons of St. Bernard which exist were written by him in
MISCELLANEOUS PROSE.
It was natural, and indeed necessary, that, when the use
of prose as an allowable vehicle for literary composition General use of
Prose.
was once understood and established, it should gradually
but rapidly supersede the more troublesome and far less appropriate form of
verse. Accordingly we find that, from the beginning of the thirteenth
century, the amount of prose literature is constantly on the increase. It
happens, however, or, to speak more precisely, it follows that this
miscellaneous prose literature is of much less importance and of much less
interest than the contemporary and kindred literature in verse. For in the
nature of things much of it was occupied with what may be called the
journey-work of literature,—the stuff which, unless there be some special
attraction in its form, grows obsolete, or retains a merely antiquarian
interest in the course of time. There was, moreover, still among the chief
patrons of literature a preference for verse which diverted the brightest
spirits to the practice of that form. Yet again, the best prose composition of
the middle ages, with the exception of a few works of fiction, is to be found
in its chronicles, and these have already been noticed. A review, therefore,
much less minute in scale than that which in the first ten chapters of this
book has been given to the mediaeval poetry of France, will suffice for its
mediaeval prose, and such a review will appropriately close the survey of
the literature of the middle ages.
It has already been pointed out in the first chapter that
documentary evidence exists to prove the custom of Prose Sermons. St.
Bernard.
preaching in French (or at least in lingua romana) at a
very early date. It is not, however, till many centuries
after the date of Mummolinus, that there is any trace of Maurice de Sully.
regularly written vernacular discourses. When these
appear in the twelfth century the Provençal dialects Later Preachers.
Gerson.
appear to have the start of French proper. Whether the
forty-four prose sermons of St. Bernard which exist were written by him in
Page 177
French, or were written in Latin and translated, is a disputed point. The
most reasonable opinion seems to be that they were translated, but it is
uncertain whether at the beginning of the thirteenth or the middle of the
twelfth century. However this may be, the question of written French
sermons in the twelfth century does not depend on that of St. Bernard's
authorship. Maurice de Sully, who presided over the See of Paris from 1160
to 1195, has left a considerable number of sermons which exist in
manuscripts of very different dialects. Perhaps it may not be illegitimate to
conclude from this, that at the time such written sermons were not very
common, and that preachers of different districts were glad to borrow them
for their own use. These also are thought to have been first written in Latin
and then translated. But whether Maurice de Sully was a pioneer or not, he
was very quickly followed by others. In the following century the number
of preachers whose vernacular work has been preserved is very large; the
increase being, beyond all doubt, partially due to the foundation of the two
great preaching orders of St. Francis and St. Dominic. The existing
literature of this class, dating from the thirteenth, the fourteenth, and the
early fifteenth centuries, is enormous, but the remarks made at the
beginning of this chapter apply to it fully. Its interest is almost wholly
antiquarian, and not in any sense literary. Distinguished names indeed occur
in the catalogue of preachers, but, until we come to the extreme verge of the
mediaeval period proper, hardly one of what may be called the first
importance. The struggle between the Burgundian and Orleanist, or
Armagnac parties, and the ecclesiastical squabbles of the Great Schism,
produced some figures of greater interest. Such are Jean Petit, a furious
partisan, who went so far as to excuse the murder of the Duke of Orleans,
and Jean Charlier, or Gerson, one of the most respectable and considerable
names of the later mediaeval literature. Gerson was born in 1363, at a
village of the same name in Lorraine. He early entered the Collège de
Navarre, and distinguished himself under Peter d'Ailly, the most famous of
the later nominalists. He became Chancellor of the University, received a
living in Flanders, and for many years preached in the most constantly
attended churches of Paris. He represented the University at the Council of
Constance, and, becoming obnoxious to the Burgundian party, sought
refuge with one of his brothers at Lyons, where he is said to have taught
little children. He died in 1429. Gerson, it should perhaps be added, is one
of the numerous candidates (but one of the least likely) for the honour of
most reasonable opinion seems to be that they were translated, but it is
uncertain whether at the beginning of the thirteenth or the middle of the
twelfth century. However this may be, the question of written French
sermons in the twelfth century does not depend on that of St. Bernard's
authorship. Maurice de Sully, who presided over the See of Paris from 1160
to 1195, has left a considerable number of sermons which exist in
manuscripts of very different dialects. Perhaps it may not be illegitimate to
conclude from this, that at the time such written sermons were not very
common, and that preachers of different districts were glad to borrow them
for their own use. These also are thought to have been first written in Latin
and then translated. But whether Maurice de Sully was a pioneer or not, he
was very quickly followed by others. In the following century the number
of preachers whose vernacular work has been preserved is very large; the
increase being, beyond all doubt, partially due to the foundation of the two
great preaching orders of St. Francis and St. Dominic. The existing
literature of this class, dating from the thirteenth, the fourteenth, and the
early fifteenth centuries, is enormous, but the remarks made at the
beginning of this chapter apply to it fully. Its interest is almost wholly
antiquarian, and not in any sense literary. Distinguished names indeed occur
in the catalogue of preachers, but, until we come to the extreme verge of the
mediaeval period proper, hardly one of what may be called the first
importance. The struggle between the Burgundian and Orleanist, or
Armagnac parties, and the ecclesiastical squabbles of the Great Schism,
produced some figures of greater interest. Such are Jean Petit, a furious
partisan, who went so far as to excuse the murder of the Duke of Orleans,
and Jean Charlier, or Gerson, one of the most respectable and considerable
names of the later mediaeval literature. Gerson was born in 1363, at a
village of the same name in Lorraine. He early entered the Collège de
Navarre, and distinguished himself under Peter d'Ailly, the most famous of
the later nominalists. He became Chancellor of the University, received a
living in Flanders, and for many years preached in the most constantly
attended churches of Paris. He represented the University at the Council of
Constance, and, becoming obnoxious to the Burgundian party, sought
refuge with one of his brothers at Lyons, where he is said to have taught
little children. He died in 1429. Gerson, it should perhaps be added, is one
of the numerous candidates (but one of the least likely) for the honour of
Page 178
having written the Imitation. He concerns us here only as the author of
numerous French sermons. His work in this kind is very characteristic of
the time. Less mixed with burlesque than that of his immediate successors,
it is equally full of miscellaneous, and, as it now seems, somewhat
inappropriate erudition, and far fuller of the fatal allegorising and
personification of abstract qualities which were in every branch of literature
the curse of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. Yet there are passages of
real eloquence in Gerson, though perhaps the chief literary point about him
is the evidence he gives of the insufficiency of the language in its then
condition for serious prose work.
This is indeed the lesson of most of the writing which
we have to notice in this chapter. Next to sermons may Moral and
Devotional
most naturally be placed devotional and moral works, Treatises.
for, as may easily be imagined, theology and philosophy,
properly so called, did not condescend to the vulgar Translators.
tongue until after the close of the period. Only treatises
for the practical use of the unlearned and ignorant
adopted the vernacular. Of such there are manuals of Political and
Polemical Works.
devotion and sketches of sacred history which date from
the thirteenth century, besides numerous later treatises, among the authors
of which Gerson is again conspicuous. The most popular, perhaps, and in a
way the most interesting of all such moral and devotional treatises, is the
book of the Chevalier de la Tour Landry[142], written in the third quarter of
the fourteenth century. This book, destined for the instruction of the author's
three daughters, is composed of Bible stories, moral tales from ordinary
literature and from the writer's experience, precepts and rules of conduct,
and so forth; in short, a Whole Duty of Girls. Most however of the works of
this sort which were current were, as may be supposed, not original, but
translated, and these translations played a very important part in the history
of the language. The earliest of all are translations of the Bible, especially
of the Psalms and the book of Kings, the former of which may perhaps date
from the end of the eleventh century. Translations of the fathers, and of the
Lives of the Saints, followed in such numbers that, in 1199, Pope Innocent
III. blamed their indiscriminate use. The translation of profane literature
hardly begins much before the thirteenth century. In this it becomes
frequent; and in the following many classical writers and more mediaeval
numerous French sermons. His work in this kind is very characteristic of
the time. Less mixed with burlesque than that of his immediate successors,
it is equally full of miscellaneous, and, as it now seems, somewhat
inappropriate erudition, and far fuller of the fatal allegorising and
personification of abstract qualities which were in every branch of literature
the curse of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. Yet there are passages of
real eloquence in Gerson, though perhaps the chief literary point about him
is the evidence he gives of the insufficiency of the language in its then
condition for serious prose work.
This is indeed the lesson of most of the writing which
we have to notice in this chapter. Next to sermons may Moral and
Devotional
most naturally be placed devotional and moral works, Treatises.
for, as may easily be imagined, theology and philosophy,
properly so called, did not condescend to the vulgar Translators.
tongue until after the close of the period. Only treatises
for the practical use of the unlearned and ignorant
adopted the vernacular. Of such there are manuals of Political and
Polemical Works.
devotion and sketches of sacred history which date from
the thirteenth century, besides numerous later treatises, among the authors
of which Gerson is again conspicuous. The most popular, perhaps, and in a
way the most interesting of all such moral and devotional treatises, is the
book of the Chevalier de la Tour Landry[142], written in the third quarter of
the fourteenth century. This book, destined for the instruction of the author's
three daughters, is composed of Bible stories, moral tales from ordinary
literature and from the writer's experience, precepts and rules of conduct,
and so forth; in short, a Whole Duty of Girls. Most however of the works of
this sort which were current were, as may be supposed, not original, but
translated, and these translations played a very important part in the history
of the language. The earliest of all are translations of the Bible, especially
of the Psalms and the book of Kings, the former of which may perhaps date
from the end of the eleventh century. Translations of the fathers, and of the
Lives of the Saints, followed in such numbers that, in 1199, Pope Innocent
III. blamed their indiscriminate use. The translation of profane literature
hardly begins much before the thirteenth century. In this it becomes
frequent; and in the following many classical writers and more mediaeval
Page 179
authors in Latin underwent the process. But it was not till the close of the
fourteenth century that the most important translations were made, and that
translation began to exercise its natural influence on a comparatively
unsophisticated language, by providing terms of art, by generally enriching
the vocabulary, and by the elaboration of the peculiarities of syntax and
style necessary for rendering the sentences of languages so highly organised
as Latin and Greek. Under John of Valois and his three successors
considerable encouragement was given by the kings of France to this sort of
work, and three translators, Pierre Bersuire, Nicholas Oresme, and Raoul de
Presles, have left special reputations. The eldest of these, Pierre Bersuire or
Bercheure, a friend of Petrarch, was born in 1290, and towards the end of
his life, about 1352, translated part of Livy. Nicholas Oresme, the date of
whose birth is unknown, but who entered the Collège de Navarre in 1348,
and is likely to have been at that time thirteen or fourteen years old, and
who became Dean of Rouen and Bishop of Lisieux, translated, in 1370 and
the following years, the Ethics, Politics, and Economics of Aristotle (from
the Latin, not the Greek). He died in 1382. Oresme was a good writer, and
particularly dexterous in adopting neologisms necessary for his purpose.
Raoul de Presles executed translations of the Bible and of St. Augustine's
De Civitate Dei. All these writers furnished an enlarged vocabulary to their
successors, the most remarkable of whom were the already mentioned
Christine de Pisan and Alain Chartier. The latter is especially noteworthy as
a prose writer, and the comments already made on his style and influence as
a poet apply here also. His Quadriloge Invectif and Curial, both satirical or,
at least, polemical works, are his chief productions in this kind. Raoul de
Presles also composed a polemical work, dealing chiefly with the burning
question of the papal and royal powers, under the title of Songe du Verger.
It might seem unlikely at first sight that so highly
technical a subject as law should furnish a considerable Codes and Legal
contingent to early vernacular literature; but there are Treatises.
some works of this kind both of ancient date and of no small importance.
England and Normandy furnish an important contingent, the 'Laws of
William the Conqueror' and the Coutumiere Normandie being the most
remarkable: but the most interesting document of this kind is perhaps the
famous Assises de Jérusalem, arranged by Godfrey of Bouillon and his
crusaders as the code of the kingdom of Jerusalem in 1099, and known also
fourteenth century that the most important translations were made, and that
translation began to exercise its natural influence on a comparatively
unsophisticated language, by providing terms of art, by generally enriching
the vocabulary, and by the elaboration of the peculiarities of syntax and
style necessary for rendering the sentences of languages so highly organised
as Latin and Greek. Under John of Valois and his three successors
considerable encouragement was given by the kings of France to this sort of
work, and three translators, Pierre Bersuire, Nicholas Oresme, and Raoul de
Presles, have left special reputations. The eldest of these, Pierre Bersuire or
Bercheure, a friend of Petrarch, was born in 1290, and towards the end of
his life, about 1352, translated part of Livy. Nicholas Oresme, the date of
whose birth is unknown, but who entered the Collège de Navarre in 1348,
and is likely to have been at that time thirteen or fourteen years old, and
who became Dean of Rouen and Bishop of Lisieux, translated, in 1370 and
the following years, the Ethics, Politics, and Economics of Aristotle (from
the Latin, not the Greek). He died in 1382. Oresme was a good writer, and
particularly dexterous in adopting neologisms necessary for his purpose.
Raoul de Presles executed translations of the Bible and of St. Augustine's
De Civitate Dei. All these writers furnished an enlarged vocabulary to their
successors, the most remarkable of whom were the already mentioned
Christine de Pisan and Alain Chartier. The latter is especially noteworthy as
a prose writer, and the comments already made on his style and influence as
a poet apply here also. His Quadriloge Invectif and Curial, both satirical or,
at least, polemical works, are his chief productions in this kind. Raoul de
Presles also composed a polemical work, dealing chiefly with the burning
question of the papal and royal powers, under the title of Songe du Verger.
It might seem unlikely at first sight that so highly
technical a subject as law should furnish a considerable Codes and Legal
contingent to early vernacular literature; but there are Treatises.
some works of this kind both of ancient date and of no small importance.
England and Normandy furnish an important contingent, the 'Laws of
William the Conqueror' and the Coutumiere Normandie being the most
remarkable: but the most interesting document of this kind is perhaps the
famous Assises de Jérusalem, arranged by Godfrey of Bouillon and his
crusaders as the code of the kingdom of Jerusalem in 1099, and known also
Page 180
as the Lettres du Sépulcre, from the place of their custody. The original text
was lost or destroyed at the capture of Jerusalem by Saladin in 1187; but a
new Assise, compiled from the oral tradition of the jurists who had seen and
used the old, was written by Philippe de Navarre in 1240, or thereabouts,
for the use of the surviving Latin principalities of the East. This was shortly
afterwards enlarged and developed by Jean d'Ibelin, a Syrian baron, who
took part in the crusade of St. Louis. These codes concerned themselves
only with one part of the original Lettres du Sépulcre, the laws affecting the
privileged classes; but the other part, the Assises des Bourgeois, survives in
Le Livre de la Cour des Bourgeois, which has been thought to be older than
the loss of the original. These various works contain the most complete
account of feudal jurisprudence in its palmy days that is known, for the still
earlier Anglo-Norman laws represent a more mixed state of things. It was
especially in Cyprus that the Jerusalem codes were observed. The chief
remaining works of the same kind which deserve mention are the
Établissements de St. Louis and the Livre de Justice et de Plet, which both
date from the time of Louis himself; the Conseil, a treatise on law by Pierre
de Fontaines, who died in 1289, and the Coutumes du Beauvoisis of
Philippe de Beaumanoir, who wrote in 1283. The legal literature of the
fourteenth century is abundant, but possesses considerably less interest.
Last of all, before coming to prose fiction, a vast if not
very interesting class of miscellaneous prose work must Miscellanies and
Didactic Works.
be mentioned. The word class has been used, but
perhaps improperly, for classification is almost impossible. Books of
accounts and domestic economy of all sorts (generally called livres de
raison) were very common; treatises of all kinds of more general character
on household management abounded. We have a Ménagier de Paris, a
Viandier de Paris, both of the fourteenth century. But much earlier the
orderly and symmetrical spirit which has always distinguished the French
makes itself apparent in literature. The Livre des Métiers de Paris of
Étienne Boileau, dating from the thirteenth century, gives a complete idea
of the organisation of guilds and trades at that time. An innumerable
multitude of treatises on the minor morals, on love, on manners, exists in
manuscript, and in rare instances in print. The Trésors, or compendious
encyclopædias, which have already been noticed in verse, began in the
thirteenth century to be composed in prose, the most remarkable being that
was lost or destroyed at the capture of Jerusalem by Saladin in 1187; but a
new Assise, compiled from the oral tradition of the jurists who had seen and
used the old, was written by Philippe de Navarre in 1240, or thereabouts,
for the use of the surviving Latin principalities of the East. This was shortly
afterwards enlarged and developed by Jean d'Ibelin, a Syrian baron, who
took part in the crusade of St. Louis. These codes concerned themselves
only with one part of the original Lettres du Sépulcre, the laws affecting the
privileged classes; but the other part, the Assises des Bourgeois, survives in
Le Livre de la Cour des Bourgeois, which has been thought to be older than
the loss of the original. These various works contain the most complete
account of feudal jurisprudence in its palmy days that is known, for the still
earlier Anglo-Norman laws represent a more mixed state of things. It was
especially in Cyprus that the Jerusalem codes were observed. The chief
remaining works of the same kind which deserve mention are the
Établissements de St. Louis and the Livre de Justice et de Plet, which both
date from the time of Louis himself; the Conseil, a treatise on law by Pierre
de Fontaines, who died in 1289, and the Coutumes du Beauvoisis of
Philippe de Beaumanoir, who wrote in 1283. The legal literature of the
fourteenth century is abundant, but possesses considerably less interest.
Last of all, before coming to prose fiction, a vast if not
very interesting class of miscellaneous prose work must Miscellanies and
Didactic Works.
be mentioned. The word class has been used, but
perhaps improperly, for classification is almost impossible. Books of
accounts and domestic economy of all sorts (generally called livres de
raison) were very common; treatises of all kinds of more general character
on household management abounded. We have a Ménagier de Paris, a
Viandier de Paris, both of the fourteenth century. But much earlier the
orderly and symmetrical spirit which has always distinguished the French
makes itself apparent in literature. The Livre des Métiers de Paris of
Étienne Boileau, dating from the thirteenth century, gives a complete idea
of the organisation of guilds and trades at that time. An innumerable
multitude of treatises on the minor morals, on love, on manners, exists in
manuscript, and in rare instances in print. The Trésors, or compendious
encyclopædias, which have already been noticed in verse, began in the
thirteenth century to be composed in prose, the most remarkable being that
Page 181
of Brunetto Latini, the master of Dante, who avowedly used French as his
vehicle of composition, because it was the most commonly read of
European languages. This book was written apparently about or before
1270. Nor did the separate arts lack illustration in prose. Medicine and
alchemy, astronomy and poetry, war and chess, had their treatises, while
Bestiaries and Lapidaries are almost as numerous in prose as in verse.
Finally, there is the important category of books of travel. There are a
certain number of voyages to the Holy Land[143]; some miscellaneous
travels mostly, though not universally, translated from the Latin; and last,
but not least, the great book of Marco Polo, which seems to have been
written originally in French, the author, when in captivity at Genoa, having
dictated it to Rusticien of Pisa, who also figures as a compiler of late
versions of the Arthurian legend, and who thus had some skill in French
composition.
The prose fiction of the period has been kept to the last,
because it expresses a different order of literary Fiction
endeavour from those divisions which have hitherto
been treated. The language of the middle ages was ill-suited for work other
than narrative; for narrative work it was supremely well adapted. Yet the
prose fiction which we have is not on the whole equal in merit to the poetry,
though in one or two instances it is of great value. The medium of
communication was not generally known or used until the period of
decadence had been reached, and the peculiar defects of mediaeval
literature, prolixity and verbiage, show themselves more conspicuously and
more annoyingly in prose than in verse. We have, however, some
remarkable work of the later periods, and in the latest of all we have one
writer, Antoine de la Salle, who deserves to rank with the great chroniclers
as a fashioner of French prose.
The French prose fiction of the middle ages resolves itself into several
classes: the early Arthurian Romances already noticed; the scattered tales of
the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, which are chiefly to be studied in
two excellent volumes of the Bibliothèque Elzévirienne[144]; the versions of
such collections of legends, chiefly oriental in origin, as the History of the
Seven Wise Men and the Gesta Romanorum; the longer classical romances
in prose; the late prose remaniements of the great verse epics and romances
of the twelfth century; and the more or less original work of the fifteenth
vehicle of composition, because it was the most commonly read of
European languages. This book was written apparently about or before
1270. Nor did the separate arts lack illustration in prose. Medicine and
alchemy, astronomy and poetry, war and chess, had their treatises, while
Bestiaries and Lapidaries are almost as numerous in prose as in verse.
Finally, there is the important category of books of travel. There are a
certain number of voyages to the Holy Land[143]; some miscellaneous
travels mostly, though not universally, translated from the Latin; and last,
but not least, the great book of Marco Polo, which seems to have been
written originally in French, the author, when in captivity at Genoa, having
dictated it to Rusticien of Pisa, who also figures as a compiler of late
versions of the Arthurian legend, and who thus had some skill in French
composition.
The prose fiction of the period has been kept to the last,
because it expresses a different order of literary Fiction
endeavour from those divisions which have hitherto
been treated. The language of the middle ages was ill-suited for work other
than narrative; for narrative work it was supremely well adapted. Yet the
prose fiction which we have is not on the whole equal in merit to the poetry,
though in one or two instances it is of great value. The medium of
communication was not generally known or used until the period of
decadence had been reached, and the peculiar defects of mediaeval
literature, prolixity and verbiage, show themselves more conspicuously and
more annoyingly in prose than in verse. We have, however, some
remarkable work of the later periods, and in the latest of all we have one
writer, Antoine de la Salle, who deserves to rank with the great chroniclers
as a fashioner of French prose.
The French prose fiction of the middle ages resolves itself into several
classes: the early Arthurian Romances already noticed; the scattered tales of
the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, which are chiefly to be studied in
two excellent volumes of the Bibliothèque Elzévirienne[144]; the versions of
such collections of legends, chiefly oriental in origin, as the History of the
Seven Wise Men and the Gesta Romanorum; the longer classical romances
in prose; the late prose remaniements of the great verse epics and romances
of the twelfth century; and the more or less original work of the fifteenth
Page 182
century, when prose was becoming an independent and coequal literary
exponent. The first class requires no further mention; of the third, the
editions of the Roman des Sept Sages, by M. Gaston Paris[145], and of the
Violier des Histoires Romaines, by M. Gustave Brunet[146], may be referred
to as sufficient instances; of the fourth a very interesting specimen has been
made accessible by the publication of the prose Roman de Jules César of
Jean de Tuim[147], a free version from Lucan made apparently in the course
of the thirteenth century, and afterwards imitated by the author of the verse
romance; the fifth, though very numerous, are not of much value, though
the great romance of Perceforest and a few others may be excepted from
this general condemnation. The second and the last deserve a longer
mention.
The tales of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, as published by MM.
Moland and Héricault, are eight in number. Those of the second volume are
on the whole inferior in interest to those of the first. They consist of
Asseneth, a graceful legend of the marriage of Joseph with the daughter of
the Egyptian high-priest; Troilus, interesting chiefly as a prose version of
Benoist de Ste. More's legend of Troilus and Cressida, through the channel
of Guido Colonna and Boccaccio; and a very curious English story, that of
the rebel Fulk Fitzwarine. The thirteenth-century tales consist of
L'Empereur Constant, the story with which Mr. Morris has made English
readers familiar under the title of the 'Man born to be King;' of a prose
version of the ubiquitous legend of Amis et Amiles; of Le roi Flore et la
belle Jehanne, a kind of version of Griselda, though the particular trial and
exhibition of fidelity is quite different; of the Comtesse de Ponthieu, the
least interesting of all; and lastly, of the finest prose tale of the French
middle ages, Aucassin et Nicolette. In this exquisite story Aucassin, the son
of the count of Beaucaire, falls in love with Nicolette, a captive damsel. It is
very short, and is written in mingled verse and prose. The theme is for the
most part nothing but the desperate love of Aucassin, which is careless of
religion, which makes him indifferent to the joy of battle and to everything,
except 'Nicolette ma très-douce mie,' and which is, of course, at last
rewarded. But the extreme beauty of the separate scenes makes it a
masterpiece.
exponent. The first class requires no further mention; of the third, the
editions of the Roman des Sept Sages, by M. Gaston Paris[145], and of the
Violier des Histoires Romaines, by M. Gustave Brunet[146], may be referred
to as sufficient instances; of the fourth a very interesting specimen has been
made accessible by the publication of the prose Roman de Jules César of
Jean de Tuim[147], a free version from Lucan made apparently in the course
of the thirteenth century, and afterwards imitated by the author of the verse
romance; the fifth, though very numerous, are not of much value, though
the great romance of Perceforest and a few others may be excepted from
this general condemnation. The second and the last deserve a longer
mention.
The tales of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, as published by MM.
Moland and Héricault, are eight in number. Those of the second volume are
on the whole inferior in interest to those of the first. They consist of
Asseneth, a graceful legend of the marriage of Joseph with the daughter of
the Egyptian high-priest; Troilus, interesting chiefly as a prose version of
Benoist de Ste. More's legend of Troilus and Cressida, through the channel
of Guido Colonna and Boccaccio; and a very curious English story, that of
the rebel Fulk Fitzwarine. The thirteenth-century tales consist of
L'Empereur Constant, the story with which Mr. Morris has made English
readers familiar under the title of the 'Man born to be King;' of a prose
version of the ubiquitous legend of Amis et Amiles; of Le roi Flore et la
belle Jehanne, a kind of version of Griselda, though the particular trial and
exhibition of fidelity is quite different; of the Comtesse de Ponthieu, the
least interesting of all; and lastly, of the finest prose tale of the French
middle ages, Aucassin et Nicolette. In this exquisite story Aucassin, the son
of the count of Beaucaire, falls in love with Nicolette, a captive damsel. It is
very short, and is written in mingled verse and prose. The theme is for the
most part nothing but the desperate love of Aucassin, which is careless of
religion, which makes him indifferent to the joy of battle and to everything,
except 'Nicolette ma très-douce mie,' and which is, of course, at last
rewarded. But the extreme beauty of the separate scenes makes it a
masterpiece.
Page 183
Antoine de la Salle is one of the most fortunate of
authors. The tendency of modern criticism is generally Antoine de la Salle.
to endeavour to prove that some famous author has been
wrongly credited with some of the work which has made his fame. Homer,
Shakespeare, Chaucer, Rabelais, have all had to pay this penalty. In the case
of Antoine de la Salle, on the contrary, critics have vied with each other in
heaping unacknowledged masterpieces on his head. His only acknowledged
work is the charming romance of Petit Jean de Saintré[148]. The first thing
added to this has been the admirable satire of the Quinze Joyes du
Mariage[149], the next the famous collection of the Cent Nouvelles[150], and
the last the still more famous farce of Pathelin[151]. There are for once few
or no external reasons why these various attributions should not be
admitted, while there are many internal ones why they should. Antoine de la
Salle was born in 1398, and spent his life in the employment of different
kings and princes;—Louis III of Anjou, King of Naples, his son the good
King René, the count of Saint Pol, and Philip the Good of Burgundy, who
was his natural sovereign. Nothing is known of him after 1461. Of the three
prose works which have been attributed to him—there are others of a
didactic character in manuscript—the Quinze Joyes du Mariage is
extremely brief, but it contains the quintessence of all the satire on that
honourable estate which the middle ages had elaborated. Every chapter—
there is one for each 'joy' with a prologue and conclusion—ends with a
variation on this phrase descriptive of the unhappy Benedict, 'est sy est
enclose dans la nasse, et à l'aventure ne s'en repent point et s'il n'y estait il
se y mettroit bientot; la usera sa vue en languissant, et finira misérablement
ses jours.' The satire is much quieter and of a more humorous and less
boisterous character than was usual at the time. The Cent Nouvelles
Nouvelles are to all intents and purposes prose fabliaux. They have the full
licence of that class of composition, its sparkling fun, its truth to the
conditions of ordinary human life. Many of them are taken from the work
of the Italian novelists, but all are handled in a thoroughly original manner.
In style they are perhaps the best of all the late mediaeval prose works,
being clear, precise, and definite without the least appearance of baldness or
dryness. Petit Jehan de Saintré is, together with the Chronique de Messire
Jacques de Lalaing[152] of Georges Chastellain (a delightful biography,
which is not a work of fiction), the hand-book of the last age of chivalry.
Jehan de Saintré, who was a real person of the preceding century, but from
authors. The tendency of modern criticism is generally Antoine de la Salle.
to endeavour to prove that some famous author has been
wrongly credited with some of the work which has made his fame. Homer,
Shakespeare, Chaucer, Rabelais, have all had to pay this penalty. In the case
of Antoine de la Salle, on the contrary, critics have vied with each other in
heaping unacknowledged masterpieces on his head. His only acknowledged
work is the charming romance of Petit Jean de Saintré[148]. The first thing
added to this has been the admirable satire of the Quinze Joyes du
Mariage[149], the next the famous collection of the Cent Nouvelles[150], and
the last the still more famous farce of Pathelin[151]. There are for once few
or no external reasons why these various attributions should not be
admitted, while there are many internal ones why they should. Antoine de la
Salle was born in 1398, and spent his life in the employment of different
kings and princes;—Louis III of Anjou, King of Naples, his son the good
King René, the count of Saint Pol, and Philip the Good of Burgundy, who
was his natural sovereign. Nothing is known of him after 1461. Of the three
prose works which have been attributed to him—there are others of a
didactic character in manuscript—the Quinze Joyes du Mariage is
extremely brief, but it contains the quintessence of all the satire on that
honourable estate which the middle ages had elaborated. Every chapter—
there is one for each 'joy' with a prologue and conclusion—ends with a
variation on this phrase descriptive of the unhappy Benedict, 'est sy est
enclose dans la nasse, et à l'aventure ne s'en repent point et s'il n'y estait il
se y mettroit bientot; la usera sa vue en languissant, et finira misérablement
ses jours.' The satire is much quieter and of a more humorous and less
boisterous character than was usual at the time. The Cent Nouvelles
Nouvelles are to all intents and purposes prose fabliaux. They have the full
licence of that class of composition, its sparkling fun, its truth to the
conditions of ordinary human life. Many of them are taken from the work
of the Italian novelists, but all are handled in a thoroughly original manner.
In style they are perhaps the best of all the late mediaeval prose works,
being clear, precise, and definite without the least appearance of baldness or
dryness. Petit Jehan de Saintré is, together with the Chronique de Messire
Jacques de Lalaing[152] of Georges Chastellain (a delightful biography,
which is not a work of fiction), the hand-book of the last age of chivalry.
Jehan de Saintré, who was a real person of the preceding century, but from
Page 184
whom the novelist borrows little or nothing but his name, falls in love with
a lady who is known by the fantastic title of 'la dame des belles cousines.'
He wins general favour by his courtesy, true love, and prowess; but during
his absence in quest of adventures, his faithless mistress betrays him for a
rich abbot. The latter part of this book exhibits something of the satiric
intention, which was never long absent from the author's mind; the former
contains a picture, artificial perhaps, but singularly graceful, of the
elaborate religion, as it may almost be called, of chivalry. Strikingly evident
in the book is the surest of all signs of a dying stage of society, the most
delicate observation and sympathetic description joined to sarcastic and
ironical criticism.
As examples of this prose literature we may take a fragment of one of the
sermons attributed to St. Bernard (twelfth century), an extract from
Aucassin et Nicolette (thirteenth century), and one from the Curial of Alain
Chartier (early fifteenth century):—
St. Bernard.
Granz est ceste mers, chier frere, et molt large, c'est ceste
presente vie ke molt est amere et molt plaine de granz ondes, ou
trois manieres de gent puyent solement trespesseir, ensi k'il
delivreit en soient, et chascuns en sa maniere. Troi homme sunt:
Noë, Danïel et Job. Li primiers de cez trois trespesset a neif, li
seconz par pont et li tierz par weit. Cist troi homme signifïent
trois ordenes ki sunt en sainte eglise. Noë conduist l'arche par
mei lo peril del duluve, en cui je reconois aparmenmes la forme
de ceos qui sainte eglise ont a governeir. Danïel, qui apeleiz est
bers de desiers, ki abstinens fut et chastes, il est li ordenes des
penanz et des continanz ki entendent solement a deu. Et Job, ki
droituriers despensiers fut de la sustance de cest munde, signifïet
lo fëaule peule qui est en marïaige, a cuy il loist bien avoir en
possessïon les choses terrienes. Del primier et del secont nos
covient or parler, ear ci sunt or de present nostre frere, et ki
abbeit sunt si cum nos, ki sunt del nombre des prelaiz; et si sunt
assi ci li moine ki sunt de l'ordene des penanz dont nos mismes,
qui abbeit sommes, ne nos doyens mies osteir, si nos par
a lady who is known by the fantastic title of 'la dame des belles cousines.'
He wins general favour by his courtesy, true love, and prowess; but during
his absence in quest of adventures, his faithless mistress betrays him for a
rich abbot. The latter part of this book exhibits something of the satiric
intention, which was never long absent from the author's mind; the former
contains a picture, artificial perhaps, but singularly graceful, of the
elaborate religion, as it may almost be called, of chivalry. Strikingly evident
in the book is the surest of all signs of a dying stage of society, the most
delicate observation and sympathetic description joined to sarcastic and
ironical criticism.
As examples of this prose literature we may take a fragment of one of the
sermons attributed to St. Bernard (twelfth century), an extract from
Aucassin et Nicolette (thirteenth century), and one from the Curial of Alain
Chartier (early fifteenth century):—
St. Bernard.
Granz est ceste mers, chier frere, et molt large, c'est ceste
presente vie ke molt est amere et molt plaine de granz ondes, ou
trois manieres de gent puyent solement trespesseir, ensi k'il
delivreit en soient, et chascuns en sa maniere. Troi homme sunt:
Noë, Danïel et Job. Li primiers de cez trois trespesset a neif, li
seconz par pont et li tierz par weit. Cist troi homme signifïent
trois ordenes ki sunt en sainte eglise. Noë conduist l'arche par
mei lo peril del duluve, en cui je reconois aparmenmes la forme
de ceos qui sainte eglise ont a governeir. Danïel, qui apeleiz est
bers de desiers, ki abstinens fut et chastes, il est li ordenes des
penanz et des continanz ki entendent solement a deu. Et Job, ki
droituriers despensiers fut de la sustance de cest munde, signifïet
lo fëaule peule qui est en marïaige, a cuy il loist bien avoir en
possessïon les choses terrienes. Del primier et del secont nos
covient or parler, ear ci sunt or de present nostre frere, et ki
abbeit sunt si cum nos, ki sunt del nombre des prelaiz; et si sunt
assi ci li moine ki sunt de l'ordene des penanz dont nos mismes,
qui abbeit sommes, ne nos doyens mies osteir, si nos par
Page 185
aventure, qui jai nen avignet, nen avons dons oblïeit nostre
professïon por la grace de nostre office. Lo tierz ordene, c'est de
ceos ki en marïaige sunt, trescorrai ju or briément, si cum ceos
qui tant nen apartienent mies a nos cum li altre. c'est cil ordenes
ki a vveit trespesset ceste grant meir; et cist ordenes est molt
peneuous et perillous, et ki vait par molt longe voie, si cum cil
ki nule sente ne quierent ne nule adrece. En ceu appert bien ke
molt est perillouse lor voie, ke nos tant de gent i vëons perir,
dont nos dolor avons, et ke nos si poc i vëons de ceos ki ensi
trespessent cum mestiers seroit; ear molt est griés chose
d'eschuïr l'abysme des vices et les fossés des criminals pechiez
entre les ondes de cest seule, nomeyement or en cest tens ke li
malices est si enforciez.
AUCASSIN ET NICOLETTE.
Aucasins fu mis en prison si com vos avés, oï et entendu, et
Nicolete fu d'autre part en le canbre. Ce fu el tans d'esté, el mois
de mai, que li jor sont caut, lonc et cler, et les nuis coies et
series. Nicolete jut une nuit en son lit, si vit la lune luire cler par
une fenestre, et si oï le lorseilnol canter en garding, se li sovint
d'Aucasin son ami qu'ele tant amoit. ele se comença a porpenser
del conte Garin de Biaucaire qui de mort le haoit; si se pensa
qu'ele ne remanroit plus ilec, que s'ele estoit acusee et li quens
Garins le savoit, il le feroit de male mort morir. ele senti que li
vielle dormoit qui aveuc li estoit. ele se leva, si vesti un blïaut de
drap de soie que ele avoit molt bon; si prist dras de lit et
touailes, si noua l'un a l'autre, si fist une corde si longe conme
ele pot, si le noua au piler de le fenestre, si s'avala contreval le
gardin, et prist se vesture a l'une main devant et a l'autre deriere;
si s'escorça por le rousee qu'ele vit grande sor l'erbe, si s'en ala
aval le gardin. Ele avoit les caviaus blons et menus recercelés, et
les ex vairs et rïans, et le face traitice et le nés haut et bien assis,
et les levretes vermelletes plus que n'est cerisse ne rose el tans
d'esté, et les dens blans et menus, et avoit les mameletes dures
qui li souslevoient sa vestëure ausi com ce fuissent II nois
gauges, et estoit graille parmi les flans, qu'en vos dex mains le
professïon por la grace de nostre office. Lo tierz ordene, c'est de
ceos ki en marïaige sunt, trescorrai ju or briément, si cum ceos
qui tant nen apartienent mies a nos cum li altre. c'est cil ordenes
ki a vveit trespesset ceste grant meir; et cist ordenes est molt
peneuous et perillous, et ki vait par molt longe voie, si cum cil
ki nule sente ne quierent ne nule adrece. En ceu appert bien ke
molt est perillouse lor voie, ke nos tant de gent i vëons perir,
dont nos dolor avons, et ke nos si poc i vëons de ceos ki ensi
trespessent cum mestiers seroit; ear molt est griés chose
d'eschuïr l'abysme des vices et les fossés des criminals pechiez
entre les ondes de cest seule, nomeyement or en cest tens ke li
malices est si enforciez.
AUCASSIN ET NICOLETTE.
Aucasins fu mis en prison si com vos avés, oï et entendu, et
Nicolete fu d'autre part en le canbre. Ce fu el tans d'esté, el mois
de mai, que li jor sont caut, lonc et cler, et les nuis coies et
series. Nicolete jut une nuit en son lit, si vit la lune luire cler par
une fenestre, et si oï le lorseilnol canter en garding, se li sovint
d'Aucasin son ami qu'ele tant amoit. ele se comença a porpenser
del conte Garin de Biaucaire qui de mort le haoit; si se pensa
qu'ele ne remanroit plus ilec, que s'ele estoit acusee et li quens
Garins le savoit, il le feroit de male mort morir. ele senti que li
vielle dormoit qui aveuc li estoit. ele se leva, si vesti un blïaut de
drap de soie que ele avoit molt bon; si prist dras de lit et
touailes, si noua l'un a l'autre, si fist une corde si longe conme
ele pot, si le noua au piler de le fenestre, si s'avala contreval le
gardin, et prist se vesture a l'une main devant et a l'autre deriere;
si s'escorça por le rousee qu'ele vit grande sor l'erbe, si s'en ala
aval le gardin. Ele avoit les caviaus blons et menus recercelés, et
les ex vairs et rïans, et le face traitice et le nés haut et bien assis,
et les levretes vermelletes plus que n'est cerisse ne rose el tans
d'esté, et les dens blans et menus, et avoit les mameletes dures
qui li souslevoient sa vestëure ausi com ce fuissent II nois
gauges, et estoit graille parmi les flans, qu'en vos dex mains le
Page 186
pëusciés enclorre; et les flors des margerites qu'ele ronpoit as
ortex de ses piés, qui li gissoient sor le menuisse du pié par
deseure, estoient droites noires avers ses piés et ses ganbes, tant
par estoit blance la mescinete. Ele vint au postic; si le deffrema,
si s'en isci par mi les rues de Biaucaire par devers l'onbre, ear la
lune luisoit molt clere, et erra tant qu'ele vint a le tor u ses amis
estoit. Li tors estoit faëlé de lius en lius, et ele se quatist delés
l'un des pilers. si s'estraint en son mantel, si mist sen cief par mi
une crevëure de la tor qui vielle estoit et anciienne, si oï Aucasin
qui la dedens pleuroit et faisoit mot grant dol et regretoit se
douce amie que tant amoit. et quant ele l'ot assés escouté, si
comença a dire.
Alain Chartier.
La court, affin que tu l'entendes, est ung couvent de gens qui
soubz faintise du bien commun sont assemblez pour eulx
interrompre; ear il n'y a gueres de gens qui ne vendent,
achaptent ou eschangent aucunes foiz leurs rentes ou leurs
propres vestemens; ear entre nous de la court nous sommes
marchans affectez qui achaptons les autres gens et autresfoiz
pour leur argent nous leur vendons nostre humanité precïeuse.
Nous leur vendons et achaptons autruy par flaterie ou par
corrupcïons; mais nous sçavons tres bien vendre nous mesmes a
ceulx qui ont de nous a faire. Combien donc y peus tu acquerir
qui es certain sans doubte et sans peril? veulx tu aller a la court
vendre ou perdre ce bien de vertu, que tu as acquis hors d'icelle
court? Certes, frere, tu demandes ce que tu deusses reffuser, tu te
fies en ce dont tu te deusses deffier et fiches ton esperance en ce
que te tire a peril. Et se tu y viens, la court te servira de tant de
mensonges controverses d'une part, et de l'autre de bailler tant
de tours et de charges que tu auras dedans toy mesmes bataille
continuëlle et soussiz angoisseux et pour certain homme qui
pourra bonnement dire que ceste vie fust bieneuree qui par tant
de tempestes est achatee et en tant de contrarïetez esprouvee.
ortex de ses piés, qui li gissoient sor le menuisse du pié par
deseure, estoient droites noires avers ses piés et ses ganbes, tant
par estoit blance la mescinete. Ele vint au postic; si le deffrema,
si s'en isci par mi les rues de Biaucaire par devers l'onbre, ear la
lune luisoit molt clere, et erra tant qu'ele vint a le tor u ses amis
estoit. Li tors estoit faëlé de lius en lius, et ele se quatist delés
l'un des pilers. si s'estraint en son mantel, si mist sen cief par mi
une crevëure de la tor qui vielle estoit et anciienne, si oï Aucasin
qui la dedens pleuroit et faisoit mot grant dol et regretoit se
douce amie que tant amoit. et quant ele l'ot assés escouté, si
comença a dire.
Alain Chartier.
La court, affin que tu l'entendes, est ung couvent de gens qui
soubz faintise du bien commun sont assemblez pour eulx
interrompre; ear il n'y a gueres de gens qui ne vendent,
achaptent ou eschangent aucunes foiz leurs rentes ou leurs
propres vestemens; ear entre nous de la court nous sommes
marchans affectez qui achaptons les autres gens et autresfoiz
pour leur argent nous leur vendons nostre humanité precïeuse.
Nous leur vendons et achaptons autruy par flaterie ou par
corrupcïons; mais nous sçavons tres bien vendre nous mesmes a
ceulx qui ont de nous a faire. Combien donc y peus tu acquerir
qui es certain sans doubte et sans peril? veulx tu aller a la court
vendre ou perdre ce bien de vertu, que tu as acquis hors d'icelle
court? Certes, frere, tu demandes ce que tu deusses reffuser, tu te
fies en ce dont tu te deusses deffier et fiches ton esperance en ce
que te tire a peril. Et se tu y viens, la court te servira de tant de
mensonges controverses d'une part, et de l'autre de bailler tant
de tours et de charges que tu auras dedans toy mesmes bataille
continuëlle et soussiz angoisseux et pour certain homme qui
pourra bonnement dire que ceste vie fust bieneuree qui par tant
de tempestes est achatee et en tant de contrarïetez esprouvee.
Page 187
FOOTNOTES:
[142] Ed. Montaiglon. Paris, 1854.
[143] A good example of these is the Saint Voyage de Jérusalem of the Seigneur
d'Anglure (1385), edited by MM. Bonnardot and Longnon. Paris, 1878.
[144] Nouvelles du 13e et du 14e siècle. Ed. Moland et Héricault. 2 vols. Paris,
1856.
[145] Paris, 1876.
[146] Paris, 1858.
[147] Ed. Settegast. Halle, 1881.
[148] Ed. Guichard. Paris, 1843.
[149] Ed. Jannet. Paris, 1853; 2nd ed. 1857.
[150] Ed. Wright. Paris, 1858.
[151] Ed. Fournier, Théâtre Français avant la Renaissance. Paris, n. d.
[152] Ed. Kervyn de Lettenhove, viii. 1-259.
[142] Ed. Montaiglon. Paris, 1854.
[143] A good example of these is the Saint Voyage de Jérusalem of the Seigneur
d'Anglure (1385), edited by MM. Bonnardot and Longnon. Paris, 1878.
[144] Nouvelles du 13e et du 14e siècle. Ed. Moland et Héricault. 2 vols. Paris,
1856.
[145] Paris, 1876.
[146] Paris, 1858.
[147] Ed. Settegast. Halle, 1881.
[148] Ed. Guichard. Paris, 1843.
[149] Ed. Jannet. Paris, 1853; 2nd ed. 1857.
[150] Ed. Wright. Paris, 1858.
[151] Ed. Fournier, Théâtre Français avant la Renaissance. Paris, n. d.
[152] Ed. Kervyn de Lettenhove, viii. 1-259.
Page 188
INTERCHAPTER I.
SUMMARY OF MEDIAEVAL LITERATURE.
In the foregoing book a view has been given of the principal developments
of mediaeval literature in France. The survey has extended, taking the
extremest chronological limits, over some eight centuries. But, until the end
of the eleventh, the monuments of ancient French literature are few and
scattered, and the actual manuscripts which we possess date in hardly any
case further back than the twelfth. In reality the history of mediaeval
literature in France is the history of the productions of the twelfth,
thirteenth, fourteenth and early fifteenth centuries with a long but straggling
introduction, ranging from the eighth or even the seventh. Its palmy time is
unquestionably in the twelfth and the thirteenth. During these two hundred
years almost every kind of literature is attempted. Vast numbers of epic
poems are written; one great story, that of Arthur, exercises the imagination
as hardly any other story has exercised it either in ancient or in modern
times; the drama is begun in all its varieties of tragedy, comedy, and opera;
lyric poetry finds abundant and exquisite expression; history begins to be
written, not indeed from the philosophic point of view, but with vivid and
picturesque presentment of fact; elaborate codes are drawn; vernacular
homilies, not mere rude colloquial discourses, are composed; the learning
of the age, such as it is, finds popular treatment; and in particular a satiric
literature, more abundant and more racy if less polished than any that
classical antiquity has left us, is committed to writing. It is often wondered
at and bewailed that this vigorous growth was succeeded by a period of
comparative stagnation in which little advance was made, and in which not
a little decided falling off is noticeable. Except the formal lyric poetry of the
fourteenth and early fifteenth centuries, and the multiplied dramatic energy
of the latter, nothing novel or vigorous appears for some hundred and forty
years, until the extreme verge of the period, when the substitution of the
prose tale, as exemplified in the work attributed to Antoine de la Salle, for
the verse Fabliau, opens a prospect which four centuries of progress have
not closed. The early perfection of Italian, a language later to start than
SUMMARY OF MEDIAEVAL LITERATURE.
In the foregoing book a view has been given of the principal developments
of mediaeval literature in France. The survey has extended, taking the
extremest chronological limits, over some eight centuries. But, until the end
of the eleventh, the monuments of ancient French literature are few and
scattered, and the actual manuscripts which we possess date in hardly any
case further back than the twelfth. In reality the history of mediaeval
literature in France is the history of the productions of the twelfth,
thirteenth, fourteenth and early fifteenth centuries with a long but straggling
introduction, ranging from the eighth or even the seventh. Its palmy time is
unquestionably in the twelfth and the thirteenth. During these two hundred
years almost every kind of literature is attempted. Vast numbers of epic
poems are written; one great story, that of Arthur, exercises the imagination
as hardly any other story has exercised it either in ancient or in modern
times; the drama is begun in all its varieties of tragedy, comedy, and opera;
lyric poetry finds abundant and exquisite expression; history begins to be
written, not indeed from the philosophic point of view, but with vivid and
picturesque presentment of fact; elaborate codes are drawn; vernacular
homilies, not mere rude colloquial discourses, are composed; the learning
of the age, such as it is, finds popular treatment; and in particular a satiric
literature, more abundant and more racy if less polished than any that
classical antiquity has left us, is committed to writing. It is often wondered
at and bewailed that this vigorous growth was succeeded by a period of
comparative stagnation in which little advance was made, and in which not
a little decided falling off is noticeable. Except the formal lyric poetry of the
fourteenth and early fifteenth centuries, and the multiplied dramatic energy
of the latter, nothing novel or vigorous appears for some hundred and forty
years, until the extreme verge of the period, when the substitution of the
prose tale, as exemplified in the work attributed to Antoine de la Salle, for
the verse Fabliau, opens a prospect which four centuries of progress have
not closed. The early perfection of Italian, a language later to start than
Page 189
French, has been regretfully compared with this, and the blame has been
thrown on the imperfection of mediaeval arrangements for educating the
people. The complaint is mistaken, and almost foolish. It is not necessary to
look much further than Italian itself to see the Nemesis of a too early
development. French, like English, which had a yet tardier literary growth,
has pursued its course unhasting, unresting, to the present hour. Italian since
the close of the sixteenth century has contributed not a single masterpiece to
European literature, and not much that can be called good second-rate. It is
not impossible that the political troubles of France—the Hundred Years'
War especially—checked the intellectual development of the country, but if
so, the check was in the long run altogether salutary. The middle ages were
allowed to work themselves out—to produce their own natural fruit before
the full influx of classical literature. What is more, a breathing time was
allowed after the exhaustion of the first set of influences, before the second
was felt. Hence the French renaissance was a far more vigorous growth than
the renaissance of Italy, which displays at once the signs of precocity and of
premature decay. But we are more immediately concerned at the present
moment with the literary results of the middle ages themselves. It is only of
late years that it has been possible fully to estimate these, and it is now
established beyond the possibility of doubt that to France almost every great
literary style as distinguished from great individual works is at this period
due. The testimony of Brunetto Latini as to French being the common
literary tongue of Europe in the thirteenth century has been quoted, and
those who have read the foregoing chapters attentively will be able to recall
innumerable instances of the literary supremacy of France. It must of course
be remembered that she enjoyed for a long time the advantage of enlisting
in her service the best wits of Southern England, of the wide district
dominated by the Provençal dialects, and of no small part of Germany and
of Northern Italy. But these countries took far more than they gave: the
Chansons de Gestes were absorbed by Italy, the Arthurian Romances by
Germany; the Fabliaux crossed the Alps to assume a prose dress in the
Southern tongue; the mysteries and miracles made their way to every corner
of Europe to be copied and developed. To the origination of the most
successful of all artificial forms of poetry—the sonnet—France has indeed
no claim, but this is almost a solitary instance. The three universally popular
books (to use the word loosely) of profane literature in the middle ages, the
epic of Arthur, the satire of Reynard the Fox, the allegorical romance of the
thrown on the imperfection of mediaeval arrangements for educating the
people. The complaint is mistaken, and almost foolish. It is not necessary to
look much further than Italian itself to see the Nemesis of a too early
development. French, like English, which had a yet tardier literary growth,
has pursued its course unhasting, unresting, to the present hour. Italian since
the close of the sixteenth century has contributed not a single masterpiece to
European literature, and not much that can be called good second-rate. It is
not impossible that the political troubles of France—the Hundred Years'
War especially—checked the intellectual development of the country, but if
so, the check was in the long run altogether salutary. The middle ages were
allowed to work themselves out—to produce their own natural fruit before
the full influx of classical literature. What is more, a breathing time was
allowed after the exhaustion of the first set of influences, before the second
was felt. Hence the French renaissance was a far more vigorous growth than
the renaissance of Italy, which displays at once the signs of precocity and of
premature decay. But we are more immediately concerned at the present
moment with the literary results of the middle ages themselves. It is only of
late years that it has been possible fully to estimate these, and it is now
established beyond the possibility of doubt that to France almost every great
literary style as distinguished from great individual works is at this period
due. The testimony of Brunetto Latini as to French being the common
literary tongue of Europe in the thirteenth century has been quoted, and
those who have read the foregoing chapters attentively will be able to recall
innumerable instances of the literary supremacy of France. It must of course
be remembered that she enjoyed for a long time the advantage of enlisting
in her service the best wits of Southern England, of the wide district
dominated by the Provençal dialects, and of no small part of Germany and
of Northern Italy. But these countries took far more than they gave: the
Chansons de Gestes were absorbed by Italy, the Arthurian Romances by
Germany; the Fabliaux crossed the Alps to assume a prose dress in the
Southern tongue; the mysteries and miracles made their way to every corner
of Europe to be copied and developed. To the origination of the most
successful of all artificial forms of poetry—the sonnet—France has indeed
no claim, but this is almost a solitary instance. The three universally popular
books (to use the word loosely) of profane literature in the middle ages, the
epic of Arthur, the satire of Reynard the Fox, the allegorical romance of the
Page 190
Rose, are of French origin. In importance as in bulk no literature of these
four centuries could dare to vie with French.
This astonishing vigour of imaginative writing was however accompanied
by a corresponding backwardness in the application of the vernacular to the
use of the exacter and more serious departments of letters. Before Comines,
the French chronicle was little more than gossip, though it was often the
gossip of genius. No philosophical, theological, ethical, or political work
deserving account was written in French prose before the beginning of the
sixteenth century. The very language remained utterly unfitted for any such
use. Its vocabulary, though enormously rich in mere volume, was destitute
of terms of the subtlety and precision necessary for serious prose; its syntax
was hardly equal to anything but a certain loose and flowing narration,
which, when turned into the channel of argument, became either bald or
prolix. The universal use of Latin for graver purposes had stunted and
disabled it. At the same time great changes passed over the language itself.
In the fourteenth century it lost with its inflections not a little of its
picturesqueness, and had as yet hit upon no means of supplying the want.
The loose orthography of the middle ages had culminated in a fantastic
redundance of consonants which was reproduced in the earliest printed
books. This, as readers of Rabelais are aware, was an admirable assistance
to grotesque effect, but it was fatal to elegance or dignity except in the
omnipotent hands of a master like Rabelais himself. In the fifteenth century,
moreover, the stereotyped forms of poetry were losing their freshness and
grace while retaining their stately precision. The faculty of sustained verse
narrative had fled the country, only to return at very long intervals and in
very few cases. The natural and almost childish outspokenness of early
times had brought about in all departments of comic literature a revolting
coarseness of speech. The farce and the prose tale almost outdo the more
naïf fabliau in this. Nothing like a critical spirit had yet manifested itself in
matters literary, unless the universal following of a few accepted models
may be called criticism. The very motives of the mediaeval literature, its
unquestioning faith, its sense of a narrow circle of knowledge surrounded
by a vast unknown, its acceptance of classes and orders in church and state
(tempered as this acceptance had been by the sharpest satire on particulars
but by hardly any argument on general points), were losing their force.
four centuries could dare to vie with French.
This astonishing vigour of imaginative writing was however accompanied
by a corresponding backwardness in the application of the vernacular to the
use of the exacter and more serious departments of letters. Before Comines,
the French chronicle was little more than gossip, though it was often the
gossip of genius. No philosophical, theological, ethical, or political work
deserving account was written in French prose before the beginning of the
sixteenth century. The very language remained utterly unfitted for any such
use. Its vocabulary, though enormously rich in mere volume, was destitute
of terms of the subtlety and precision necessary for serious prose; its syntax
was hardly equal to anything but a certain loose and flowing narration,
which, when turned into the channel of argument, became either bald or
prolix. The universal use of Latin for graver purposes had stunted and
disabled it. At the same time great changes passed over the language itself.
In the fourteenth century it lost with its inflections not a little of its
picturesqueness, and had as yet hit upon no means of supplying the want.
The loose orthography of the middle ages had culminated in a fantastic
redundance of consonants which was reproduced in the earliest printed
books. This, as readers of Rabelais are aware, was an admirable assistance
to grotesque effect, but it was fatal to elegance or dignity except in the
omnipotent hands of a master like Rabelais himself. In the fifteenth century,
moreover, the stereotyped forms of poetry were losing their freshness and
grace while retaining their stately precision. The faculty of sustained verse
narrative had fled the country, only to return at very long intervals and in
very few cases. The natural and almost childish outspokenness of early
times had brought about in all departments of comic literature a revolting
coarseness of speech. The farce and the prose tale almost outdo the more
naïf fabliau in this. Nothing like a critical spirit had yet manifested itself in
matters literary, unless the universal following of a few accepted models
may be called criticism. The very motives of the mediaeval literature, its
unquestioning faith, its sense of a narrow circle of knowledge surrounded
by a vast unknown, its acceptance of classes and orders in church and state
(tempered as this acceptance had been by the sharpest satire on particulars
but by hardly any argument on general points), were losing their force.
Page 191
Everything was ready for a renaissance, and the next book will show how
the Renaissance came and what it did.
the Renaissance came and what it did.
Page 192
BOOK II.
THE RENAISSANCE.
THE RENAISSANCE.
Page 193
CHAPTER I.
VILLON, COMINES, AND THE LATER FIFTEENTH
CENTURY.
To determine at what period exactly mediaeval literature
ceases in France and modern literature begins, is not one The Middle Ages
and the
of the easiest problems of literary history. It has Renaissance.
sometimes been solved by the obvious expedient of
making out of the fifteenth century a period of transition, Characteristics of
sometimes by continuing the classification of Fifteenth-century
'mediaeval' until the time when Marot and Rabelais gave Literature.
unmistakeable evidence of the presence and working of
the modern spirit. Perhaps, however, there may, after all, have been
something in the instinct which, in words clumsily enough chosen, made
Boileau date modern French poetry from Villon[153], and there can hardly
be any doubt that, as far as spirit if not form goes, modern French prose
dates from Comines. These two contemporary authors, moreover, have in
them the characteristic which perhaps more than any other distinguishes
modern from mediaeval literature, the predominance of the personal
element. In their works, especially if Villon be taken with the immediately
preceding and partially contemporary Charles d'Orléans, a difference of the
most striking kind is noticeable at once. It is not that the prince who served
the god Nonchaloir so piously is deficient in personal characteristics or
personal attractiveness, but that his personality is still, so to speak, generic
rather than individual. He is still the Trouvère of the nobler class, dallying
with half-imaginary woes in the forms consecrated by tradition to the record
of them. Not so the vagabond whose words after four centuries appeal
directly to the spirit of the modern reader. That reader is cut off from
Charles d'Orléans' world by a gulf across which he can only project himself
by a great effort of study or of sympathetic determination. The barriers
which separate him from Villon are slight enough, consisting mostly of
trifling changes in language and manners which a little exertion easily
overcomes.
VILLON, COMINES, AND THE LATER FIFTEENTH
CENTURY.
To determine at what period exactly mediaeval literature
ceases in France and modern literature begins, is not one The Middle Ages
and the
of the easiest problems of literary history. It has Renaissance.
sometimes been solved by the obvious expedient of
making out of the fifteenth century a period of transition, Characteristics of
sometimes by continuing the classification of Fifteenth-century
'mediaeval' until the time when Marot and Rabelais gave Literature.
unmistakeable evidence of the presence and working of
the modern spirit. Perhaps, however, there may, after all, have been
something in the instinct which, in words clumsily enough chosen, made
Boileau date modern French poetry from Villon[153], and there can hardly
be any doubt that, as far as spirit if not form goes, modern French prose
dates from Comines. These two contemporary authors, moreover, have in
them the characteristic which perhaps more than any other distinguishes
modern from mediaeval literature, the predominance of the personal
element. In their works, especially if Villon be taken with the immediately
preceding and partially contemporary Charles d'Orléans, a difference of the
most striking kind is noticeable at once. It is not that the prince who served
the god Nonchaloir so piously is deficient in personal characteristics or
personal attractiveness, but that his personality is still, so to speak, generic
rather than individual. He is still the Trouvère of the nobler class, dallying
with half-imaginary woes in the forms consecrated by tradition to the record
of them. Not so the vagabond whose words after four centuries appeal
directly to the spirit of the modern reader. That reader is cut off from
Charles d'Orléans' world by a gulf across which he can only project himself
by a great effort of study or of sympathetic determination. The barriers
which separate him from Villon are slight enough, consisting mostly of
trifling changes in language and manners which a little exertion easily
overcomes.
Page 194
The latter portion of the fifteenth century, or, to speak more correctly, its
last two-thirds, have frequently been described as a 'dead season' in French
literature. The description is not wholly just. Even if, according to the plan
just explained, we throw Charles d'Orléans and Antoine de la Salle, two
names of great importance, back into the mediaeval period, and if we allow
most of the chroniclers who preceded Comines to accompany them, there
are still left, before the reign of Francis the First witnessed the definite
blooming of the Renaissance in France, the two names of consummate
importance which stand at the head of this chapter, a few minor writers of
interest such as Coquillart, Baude, Martial d'Auvergne, an interesting group
of literary or at least oratorical ecclesiastics, and a much larger and, from a
literary point of view, more important group of elaborate versifiers, the so-
called grands rhétoriqueurs who preceded the Pléiade in endeavouring to
Latinise the French tongue, and whose stiff verse produced by a natural
rebound the easy grace of Clément Marot. Each of these persons and groups
will demand some notice, and the mention of them will bring us to the
Renaissance of which the subjects of this chapter were the forerunners.
François Villon[154], or Corbueil, or Corbier, or de
Montcorbier, or des Loges, was certainly born at Paris in Villon.
the year 1431. Of the date of his death nothing certain is
known, some authorities extending his life towards the close of the century
in order to adjust Rabelais' anecdotes of him[155], others supposing him to
have died before the publication of the first edition of his works in 1489.
That Villon was not his patronymic, whichsoever of his numerous aliases
may really deserve that distinction, is certain. He was a citizen of Paris and
a member of the university, having the status of clerc. But his youth was
occupied in other matters than study. In 1455 he killed, apparently in self-
defence, a priest named Philip Sermaise, fled from Paris, was condemned to
banishment in default of appearance, and six months afterwards received
letters of pardon. In 1456 a faithless mistress, Catherine de Vausselles, drew
him into a second affray, in which he had the worst, and again he fled from
Paris. During his absence a burglary committed in the capital put the police
on the track of a gang of young good-for-nothings among whom Villon's
name figured, and he was arrested, tried, tortured, and condemned to death.
On appeal, however, the sentence was commuted to banishment. Four years
after he was in prison at Meung, consigned thither by the Bishop of
last two-thirds, have frequently been described as a 'dead season' in French
literature. The description is not wholly just. Even if, according to the plan
just explained, we throw Charles d'Orléans and Antoine de la Salle, two
names of great importance, back into the mediaeval period, and if we allow
most of the chroniclers who preceded Comines to accompany them, there
are still left, before the reign of Francis the First witnessed the definite
blooming of the Renaissance in France, the two names of consummate
importance which stand at the head of this chapter, a few minor writers of
interest such as Coquillart, Baude, Martial d'Auvergne, an interesting group
of literary or at least oratorical ecclesiastics, and a much larger and, from a
literary point of view, more important group of elaborate versifiers, the so-
called grands rhétoriqueurs who preceded the Pléiade in endeavouring to
Latinise the French tongue, and whose stiff verse produced by a natural
rebound the easy grace of Clément Marot. Each of these persons and groups
will demand some notice, and the mention of them will bring us to the
Renaissance of which the subjects of this chapter were the forerunners.
François Villon[154], or Corbueil, or Corbier, or de
Montcorbier, or des Loges, was certainly born at Paris in Villon.
the year 1431. Of the date of his death nothing certain is
known, some authorities extending his life towards the close of the century
in order to adjust Rabelais' anecdotes of him[155], others supposing him to
have died before the publication of the first edition of his works in 1489.
That Villon was not his patronymic, whichsoever of his numerous aliases
may really deserve that distinction, is certain. He was a citizen of Paris and
a member of the university, having the status of clerc. But his youth was
occupied in other matters than study. In 1455 he killed, apparently in self-
defence, a priest named Philip Sermaise, fled from Paris, was condemned to
banishment in default of appearance, and six months afterwards received
letters of pardon. In 1456 a faithless mistress, Catherine de Vausselles, drew
him into a second affray, in which he had the worst, and again he fled from
Paris. During his absence a burglary committed in the capital put the police
on the track of a gang of young good-for-nothings among whom Villon's
name figured, and he was arrested, tried, tortured, and condemned to death.
On appeal, however, the sentence was commuted to banishment. Four years
after he was in prison at Meung, consigned thither by the Bishop of
Page 195
Orleans, but the king, Louis the Eleventh, set him free. Thenceforward
nothing certain is known of him. He had at one time relations with Charles
d'Orléans. Such are the bare facts of his singular life, to which the peculiar
character of his work has directed perhaps disproportionate attention. This
work consists of a poem in forty stanzas of eight octosyllabic lines (each
rhymed a, b, a, b, b, c, b, c) called the Petit Testament[156]; of a poem in 173
similar stanzas called the Grand Testament, in which about a score of minor
pieces, chiefly ballades or rondeaux, are inserted; of a Codicil composed
mainly of ballades; of a few separate pieces, and of some ballades in argot,
collectively called Le Jargon. Besides these there are doubtful pieces,
including a curious work called Les Repues Franches, which describes in
octaves like those of the Testaments the swindling tricks of Villon and his
companions, an excellent Dialogue between two characters, the Seigneurs
de Mallepaye and Baillevent, and a still better Monologue entitled Le Franc
Archier de Bagnolet. The Little Testament was written after the affair with
Catherine de Vausselles, the Great Testament after his liberation from the
Bishop's Prison at Meung. Many of the minor poems contain allusions
which enable us to fix them to various events in the poet's life. The first
edition of his works was, as has been said, published in 1489. In 1533 he
had the honour of having Marot for editor, and up to the date of the
Bibliophile Jacob's edition of 1854 (since when there have been several
editions), the number had reached thirty-two.
The characteristics of Villon may be looked at either technically or from the
point of view of the matter of his work. He had an extraordinary mastery of
the most artificial forms of poetry which have ever been employed. The
rondel, which Charles d'Orléans wrote with so much grace, he did not use,
but his rondeaux are generally exquisite. The ballade, however, was his
special province. No writer has ever got the full virtue out of the recurrent
rhymes and refrains, which are the special characteristics of the form, as
Villon has. No one has infused into a mere string of names, such as his
famous Ballade des Dames du Temps Jadis and others, such exquisitely
poetical effects by dint of an epithet here and there and of a touching
burden. But the matter of his verse is in many ways perfectly on a level
with its manner. No one excels him in startling directness of phrase, in
simple but infinite pathos of expression. Of the former, the sudden cry of
the Belle Heaulmière after the recital of her former triumphs—
nothing certain is known of him. He had at one time relations with Charles
d'Orléans. Such are the bare facts of his singular life, to which the peculiar
character of his work has directed perhaps disproportionate attention. This
work consists of a poem in forty stanzas of eight octosyllabic lines (each
rhymed a, b, a, b, b, c, b, c) called the Petit Testament[156]; of a poem in 173
similar stanzas called the Grand Testament, in which about a score of minor
pieces, chiefly ballades or rondeaux, are inserted; of a Codicil composed
mainly of ballades; of a few separate pieces, and of some ballades in argot,
collectively called Le Jargon. Besides these there are doubtful pieces,
including a curious work called Les Repues Franches, which describes in
octaves like those of the Testaments the swindling tricks of Villon and his
companions, an excellent Dialogue between two characters, the Seigneurs
de Mallepaye and Baillevent, and a still better Monologue entitled Le Franc
Archier de Bagnolet. The Little Testament was written after the affair with
Catherine de Vausselles, the Great Testament after his liberation from the
Bishop's Prison at Meung. Many of the minor poems contain allusions
which enable us to fix them to various events in the poet's life. The first
edition of his works was, as has been said, published in 1489. In 1533 he
had the honour of having Marot for editor, and up to the date of the
Bibliophile Jacob's edition of 1854 (since when there have been several
editions), the number had reached thirty-two.
The characteristics of Villon may be looked at either technically or from the
point of view of the matter of his work. He had an extraordinary mastery of
the most artificial forms of poetry which have ever been employed. The
rondel, which Charles d'Orléans wrote with so much grace, he did not use,
but his rondeaux are generally exquisite. The ballade, however, was his
special province. No writer has ever got the full virtue out of the recurrent
rhymes and refrains, which are the special characteristics of the form, as
Villon has. No one has infused into a mere string of names, such as his
famous Ballade des Dames du Temps Jadis and others, such exquisitely
poetical effects by dint of an epithet here and there and of a touching
burden. But the matter of his verse is in many ways perfectly on a level
with its manner. No one excels him in startling directness of phrase, in
simple but infinite pathos of expression. Of the former, the sudden cry of
the Belle Heaulmière after the recital of her former triumphs—
Page 196
Que m'en reste-t-il? honte et péché;
and the despairing conclusion of the lover of La Grosse Margot—
Je suis paillard, paillardise me suit—
are examples in point; of the latter the line in the rondeau to Death—
Deux étions et n'avions qu'un cœur.
No one has bolder strokes of the picturesque, as for instance—
De Constantinoble
L'empérier aux poings dorés;
and no one can render the sombre horror of a scene better than Villon has
rendered it in the famous epitaph of the gibbeted corpses—
La pluie nous a debués et lavés,
Et le soleil desséchés et noircis,
Pies, corbeaulx nous out les yeux cavés
Et arrachés la barbe et les sourcils.
These are some of Villon's strongest points. Yet in his comparatively limited
work—limited in point of bulk and peculiar in style and subject—he has
contrived to show perhaps more general poetical power than any other
writer who has left so small a total of verse. The note of his song is always
true and always sweet; and despite the intensely allusive character of most
of it, and the necessary loss of the key to many of the allusions, it has in
consequence continued popular through all changes of language and
manners. Of very few French poets can it be said as of Villon that their
charm is immediate and universal, and the reason of this is that his work is
full of touches of nature which are universally perceived, as well as
distinguished by consummate art of expression. In the great literature which
we are discussing, the latter characteristic is almost universally present, the
former not so constantly.
and the despairing conclusion of the lover of La Grosse Margot—
Je suis paillard, paillardise me suit—
are examples in point; of the latter the line in the rondeau to Death—
Deux étions et n'avions qu'un cœur.
No one has bolder strokes of the picturesque, as for instance—
De Constantinoble
L'empérier aux poings dorés;
and no one can render the sombre horror of a scene better than Villon has
rendered it in the famous epitaph of the gibbeted corpses—
La pluie nous a debués et lavés,
Et le soleil desséchés et noircis,
Pies, corbeaulx nous out les yeux cavés
Et arrachés la barbe et les sourcils.
These are some of Villon's strongest points. Yet in his comparatively limited
work—limited in point of bulk and peculiar in style and subject—he has
contrived to show perhaps more general poetical power than any other
writer who has left so small a total of verse. The note of his song is always
true and always sweet; and despite the intensely allusive character of most
of it, and the necessary loss of the key to many of the allusions, it has in
consequence continued popular through all changes of language and
manners. Of very few French poets can it be said as of Villon that their
charm is immediate and universal, and the reason of this is that his work is
full of touches of nature which are universally perceived, as well as
distinguished by consummate art of expression. In the great literature which
we are discussing, the latter characteristic is almost universally present, the
former not so constantly.
Page 197
The literary excellence of Comines[157] is of a very
different kind from that of Villon, but he represents the Comines.
changed attitude of the modern spirit towards practical
affairs almost as strongly as Villon does the change in its relations to art and
sentiment. Philippe de Comines was born, not at the château of the same
name which was then in the possession of his uncle, but at Renescure, not
very far from Hazebrouck. His family name was Vandenclyte, and his
ancestors (Flemings, as their name implies) had been citizens of Ghent
before they acquired seignorial position and rank. The education of
Comines was neglected (he never possessed any knowledge of Latin), and
his heritage was heavily encumbered. He was born before 1447, and entered
the service of Philip of Burgundy and of his son Charles of Charolais, the
future Charles le Téméraire. Comines was present at Montlhéry and at the
siege of Liège, while he played a considerable part in the celebrated affair
of Péronne, when Louis XI. was in such danger. Before 1471 he had been
charged with several important negotiations by Charles, now duke, in
France, England, and Spain. But, either personally disobliged by Charles,
or, as seems most likely from the Memoirs, presaging with the keen,
unscrupulous intelligence of the time the downfall of the headlong prince,
he quitted Burgundy and its master in 1472 and entered the service of
Louis, from whom he had already accepted a pension. He was richly
rewarded, married an heiress in Poitou, and at one time enjoyed the
forfeited fief of Talmont, a domain of the first importance, which he
afterwards had to restore to its rightful owners, the La Tremouilles. The
accession of Charles VIII. was not favourable to him, and, having taken part
against the Lady of Beaujeu, he was imprisoned and deprived of Talmont.
But with his usual sagacity, he had in the Duke of Orleans, afterwards Louis
XII., chosen the representative of the side destined to win in the long run.
The Italian wars gave scope to his powers. He was sent to Venice, was
present at the battle of Fornovo, and met Machiavelli at Florence. In the
reign of Louis XII. he received new places and pensions, and he died in
1511 aged at least sixty-four.
Comines is not a master of style, though at times the weight of his thought
and the simplicity of his expression combine to produce an effect not
unhappy. He has odd peculiarities of diction, especially inversions of phrase
and sudden apostrophes which enliven an otherwise rather awkward manner
different kind from that of Villon, but he represents the Comines.
changed attitude of the modern spirit towards practical
affairs almost as strongly as Villon does the change in its relations to art and
sentiment. Philippe de Comines was born, not at the château of the same
name which was then in the possession of his uncle, but at Renescure, not
very far from Hazebrouck. His family name was Vandenclyte, and his
ancestors (Flemings, as their name implies) had been citizens of Ghent
before they acquired seignorial position and rank. The education of
Comines was neglected (he never possessed any knowledge of Latin), and
his heritage was heavily encumbered. He was born before 1447, and entered
the service of Philip of Burgundy and of his son Charles of Charolais, the
future Charles le Téméraire. Comines was present at Montlhéry and at the
siege of Liège, while he played a considerable part in the celebrated affair
of Péronne, when Louis XI. was in such danger. Before 1471 he had been
charged with several important negotiations by Charles, now duke, in
France, England, and Spain. But, either personally disobliged by Charles,
or, as seems most likely from the Memoirs, presaging with the keen,
unscrupulous intelligence of the time the downfall of the headlong prince,
he quitted Burgundy and its master in 1472 and entered the service of
Louis, from whom he had already accepted a pension. He was richly
rewarded, married an heiress in Poitou, and at one time enjoyed the
forfeited fief of Talmont, a domain of the first importance, which he
afterwards had to restore to its rightful owners, the La Tremouilles. The
accession of Charles VIII. was not favourable to him, and, having taken part
against the Lady of Beaujeu, he was imprisoned and deprived of Talmont.
But with his usual sagacity, he had in the Duke of Orleans, afterwards Louis
XII., chosen the representative of the side destined to win in the long run.
The Italian wars gave scope to his powers. He was sent to Venice, was
present at the battle of Fornovo, and met Machiavelli at Florence. In the
reign of Louis XII. he received new places and pensions, and he died in
1511 aged at least sixty-four.
Comines is not a master of style, though at times the weight of his thought
and the simplicity of his expression combine to produce an effect not
unhappy. He has odd peculiarities of diction, especially inversions of phrase
and sudden apostrophes which enliven an otherwise rather awkward manner
Page 198
of writing. Thus, in describing the bad education of the young nobles of his
time, he says, 'de nulles lettres ils n'ont connaissance. Un seul sage homme
on ne leur met à l'entour.' And in his account of the operations before the
battle of Morat he says, 'Il (the Duke of Burgundy) séjourna à Losanne en
Savoie où vous monseigneur de Vienne le servîtes d'un bon conseil en une
grande maladie qu'il eut de douleur et de tristesse.' On the whole, however,
no one would think of reading Comines for the merit, or even the
quaintness of his style, nor can he be commended as a vivid, even if an
inelegant describer. The gallant shows which excited the imaginations of his
predecessors, the mediaeval chroniclers from Villehardouin to Froissart,
find in him a clumsy annalist and a not too careful observer. His interest is
concentrated exclusively on the turns of fortune, the successes of statecraft,
and the lessons of conduct to be noticed in or extracted from the business in
hand. With this purpose he is perpetually digressing. The affairs of one
country remind him of something that has happened in another, and he
stops to give an account of this. To a certain extent the mediaeval influence
is still strong on Comines, though it shows itself in connection with
evidences of the modern spirit. He is religious to a degree which might be
called ostentatious if it were not pretty evidently sincere; and this religiosity
is shown side by side with the exhibition of a typically unscrupulous and
non-moral, if not positively immoral, statecraft. Again, his reflexions,
though usually lacking neither in acuteness nor in depth, are often appended
to a commonplace on the mutability of fortune, the error of anger, the
necessity of adapting means to ends, and so forth. Everywhere in Comines
is evident, however, the anti-feudal and therefore anti-mediaeval conception
of a centralised government instead of a loose assemblage of powerful
vassals. The favourite mediaeval ideal, of which Saint Simon was perhaps
the last sincere champion, finds no defence in Comines; and it seems only
just to allow him, in his desertion of the Duke of Burgundy, some credit for
drawing from the anarchy of the Bien Public, and from his observations of
Germany, England, and Spain, the conclusion that France must be united,
and that union was only possible for her under a king unhampered by
largely appanaged and only nominally dependent princes. It should be said
that the Mémoires of Comines are not a continuous history. The first six
books deal with the reign of Louis XI. from 1465 to 1483. But the seventh
is busied with Charles the Eighth's Italian wars only, the author having
time, he says, 'de nulles lettres ils n'ont connaissance. Un seul sage homme
on ne leur met à l'entour.' And in his account of the operations before the
battle of Morat he says, 'Il (the Duke of Burgundy) séjourna à Losanne en
Savoie où vous monseigneur de Vienne le servîtes d'un bon conseil en une
grande maladie qu'il eut de douleur et de tristesse.' On the whole, however,
no one would think of reading Comines for the merit, or even the
quaintness of his style, nor can he be commended as a vivid, even if an
inelegant describer. The gallant shows which excited the imaginations of his
predecessors, the mediaeval chroniclers from Villehardouin to Froissart,
find in him a clumsy annalist and a not too careful observer. His interest is
concentrated exclusively on the turns of fortune, the successes of statecraft,
and the lessons of conduct to be noticed in or extracted from the business in
hand. With this purpose he is perpetually digressing. The affairs of one
country remind him of something that has happened in another, and he
stops to give an account of this. To a certain extent the mediaeval influence
is still strong on Comines, though it shows itself in connection with
evidences of the modern spirit. He is religious to a degree which might be
called ostentatious if it were not pretty evidently sincere; and this religiosity
is shown side by side with the exhibition of a typically unscrupulous and
non-moral, if not positively immoral, statecraft. Again, his reflexions,
though usually lacking neither in acuteness nor in depth, are often appended
to a commonplace on the mutability of fortune, the error of anger, the
necessity of adapting means to ends, and so forth. Everywhere in Comines
is evident, however, the anti-feudal and therefore anti-mediaeval conception
of a centralised government instead of a loose assemblage of powerful
vassals. The favourite mediaeval ideal, of which Saint Simon was perhaps
the last sincere champion, finds no defence in Comines; and it seems only
just to allow him, in his desertion of the Duke of Burgundy, some credit for
drawing from the anarchy of the Bien Public, and from his observations of
Germany, England, and Spain, the conclusion that France must be united,
and that union was only possible for her under a king unhampered by
largely appanaged and only nominally dependent princes. It should be said
that the Mémoires of Comines are not a continuous history. The first six
books deal with the reign of Louis XI. from 1465 to 1483. But the seventh
is busied with Charles the Eighth's Italian wars only, the author having
Page 199
passed over the period of his own disgrace. Besides the Memoirs we
possess a collection of Lettres et Négotiations.[158]
There are three persons who, while of very much less
importance than those just introduced to the reader, Coquillart.
deserve a mention in passing as characteristic and at the
same time meritorious writers, during the second and third quarters of the
fifteenth century, the extreme verge of which the life of all three appears to
have touched. These are Guillaume Coquillart, Henri Baude, and Martial
d'Auvergne. All three were poets, all three have been somewhat over-
praised by the scholars who in days more or less recent have drawn them
from their obscurity, but all three made creditable head against what was
mistaken and absurd in the literary fashions of the time. In the writings of
all of them moreover there is to be found something, if not much, which is
positively good, and which deserves the attention, hardly perhaps of the
general reader, but of students of literature. Coquillart[159] was a native, and
for great part of his life an inhabitant, of Rheims. The extreme dates given
for his birth and death are 1421 and 1510, but there is in reality, as is usual
in the case of all men of letters before the sixteenth century, very little solid
authority for his biography. It may be mentioned that Marot declares him to
have cut short his life by gaming. A life can hardly be said to be cut short at
ninety, nor is that an age at which gaming is a frequent ruling passion. All
that can be said is that he was certainly, as we should now say, in the civil
service of the province of Champagne during the reign of Louis XI., that
like many other men of the time he united ecclesiastical with legal
functions, being not only a town-councillor but a canon, and that he has left
satirical works of some merit and importance. These last alone concern us
much. His chief production is a poem entitled Les Droits Nouveaux, in
octosyllabic verses, not arranged in stanzas of definite length, but, on the
other hand, interlacing the rhymes, and not in couplets after the older
fashion. The plan of this poem is by no means easy to describe. It is partly a
social satire, partly a professional lampoon on the current methods of
learning and teaching law, partly a political diatribe on the alterations
introduced into provincial and national life and polity under Louis XI. Not
very different in character and exactly similar in form, except that it is
arranged as the age would have said par personnages, that is to say semi-
dramatically, is the Plaidoyer de la Simple et de la Rusée. The Blason des
possess a collection of Lettres et Négotiations.[158]
There are three persons who, while of very much less
importance than those just introduced to the reader, Coquillart.
deserve a mention in passing as characteristic and at the
same time meritorious writers, during the second and third quarters of the
fifteenth century, the extreme verge of which the life of all three appears to
have touched. These are Guillaume Coquillart, Henri Baude, and Martial
d'Auvergne. All three were poets, all three have been somewhat over-
praised by the scholars who in days more or less recent have drawn them
from their obscurity, but all three made creditable head against what was
mistaken and absurd in the literary fashions of the time. In the writings of
all of them moreover there is to be found something, if not much, which is
positively good, and which deserves the attention, hardly perhaps of the
general reader, but of students of literature. Coquillart[159] was a native, and
for great part of his life an inhabitant, of Rheims. The extreme dates given
for his birth and death are 1421 and 1510, but there is in reality, as is usual
in the case of all men of letters before the sixteenth century, very little solid
authority for his biography. It may be mentioned that Marot declares him to
have cut short his life by gaming. A life can hardly be said to be cut short at
ninety, nor is that an age at which gaming is a frequent ruling passion. All
that can be said is that he was certainly, as we should now say, in the civil
service of the province of Champagne during the reign of Louis XI., that
like many other men of the time he united ecclesiastical with legal
functions, being not only a town-councillor but a canon, and that he has left
satirical works of some merit and importance. These last alone concern us
much. His chief production is a poem entitled Les Droits Nouveaux, in
octosyllabic verses, not arranged in stanzas of definite length, but, on the
other hand, interlacing the rhymes, and not in couplets after the older
fashion. The plan of this poem is by no means easy to describe. It is partly a
social satire, partly a professional lampoon on the current methods of
learning and teaching law, partly a political diatribe on the alterations
introduced into provincial and national life and polity under Louis XI. Not
very different in character and exactly similar in form, except that it is
arranged as the age would have said par personnages, that is to say semi-
dramatically, is the Plaidoyer de la Simple et de la Rusée. The Blason des
Page 200
Armes et des Dames takes up a mediaeval theme in a mediaeval style. The
procureurs (advocates) of arms and of ladies endeavour to show each that
his client—war or love—deserves the chief attention of a prince. Here, as
elsewhere with Coquillart, though of course more covertly, satire
dominates. But the best of the pieces attributed to Coquillart are his
monologues. There are three of these, the Monologue Coquillart, the
Monologue du Puys, and the Monologue du Gendarme Cassé. This last is a
ferocious satire on its subject, coarse in language, like most of the author's
poems, but full of rude vigour. The professional soldier as distinguished
from the feudal militia or the train-bands of the towns was odious to the
later middle ages.
Henri Baude[160] is a still less substantial figure. He
seems to have been an élu (member of a provincial Baude.
board) for the province of Limousin, but to have lived
mostly at Paris. He was born at Moulins towards the beginning of the
second quarter of the century, and formed part of the poetical circle of
Charles d'Orléans in his old age. He had troubles with lawless seigneurs and
with the police of Paris; he finally succeeded in obtaining the protection of
the Duke of Bourbon, and he did not die till the end of the century. Only a
selection from his poems has yet been published. The chief thing
remarkable about them (they are mostly occasional and of no great length)
is the plainness, the directness, and, in not a few cases, the elegance of the
diction, which differs remarkably from the cumbrous phrases and obscure
allusive conceits of the time. Many of them are personal appeals for
protection and assistance, others are satirical. Baude had a peculiar mastery
of the rondeau form. His rondeau to the king, expressing a sentiment often
uttered by lackpenny bards in the days of patrons, is a good example of his
style, though it is hardly as simple and devoid of obscurity as usual.
Martial d'Auvergne[161], or Martial de Paris (for by an
odd chance both of these local surnames are given him, Martial d'Auvergne.
probably from the fact that, like Baude, he was a native
of the centre of France and spent his life in the capital), like Coquillart and
Baude, was something of a lawyer by profession, and has left work in prose
as well as in verse. He certainly died in 1508, and, as he is spoken of as
senio confectus, he cannot have been born much later than 1420, especially
as his poem, the Vigilles de Charles VII., was written on the death of that
procureurs (advocates) of arms and of ladies endeavour to show each that
his client—war or love—deserves the chief attention of a prince. Here, as
elsewhere with Coquillart, though of course more covertly, satire
dominates. But the best of the pieces attributed to Coquillart are his
monologues. There are three of these, the Monologue Coquillart, the
Monologue du Puys, and the Monologue du Gendarme Cassé. This last is a
ferocious satire on its subject, coarse in language, like most of the author's
poems, but full of rude vigour. The professional soldier as distinguished
from the feudal militia or the train-bands of the towns was odious to the
later middle ages.
Henri Baude[160] is a still less substantial figure. He
seems to have been an élu (member of a provincial Baude.
board) for the province of Limousin, but to have lived
mostly at Paris. He was born at Moulins towards the beginning of the
second quarter of the century, and formed part of the poetical circle of
Charles d'Orléans in his old age. He had troubles with lawless seigneurs and
with the police of Paris; he finally succeeded in obtaining the protection of
the Duke of Bourbon, and he did not die till the end of the century. Only a
selection from his poems has yet been published. The chief thing
remarkable about them (they are mostly occasional and of no great length)
is the plainness, the directness, and, in not a few cases, the elegance of the
diction, which differs remarkably from the cumbrous phrases and obscure
allusive conceits of the time. Many of them are personal appeals for
protection and assistance, others are satirical. Baude had a peculiar mastery
of the rondeau form. His rondeau to the king, expressing a sentiment often
uttered by lackpenny bards in the days of patrons, is a good example of his
style, though it is hardly as simple and devoid of obscurity as usual.
Martial d'Auvergne[161], or Martial de Paris (for by an
odd chance both of these local surnames are given him, Martial d'Auvergne.
probably from the fact that, like Baude, he was a native
of the centre of France and spent his life in the capital), like Coquillart and
Baude, was something of a lawyer by profession, and has left work in prose
as well as in verse. He certainly died in 1508, and, as he is spoken of as
senio confectus, he cannot have been born much later than 1420, especially
as his poem, the Vigilles de Charles VII., was written on the death of that
Page 201
prince in 1461. This poem is of considerable extent, and is divided into nine
'Psalms' and nine 'Lessons.' The staple metre is the quatrain, but detached
pieces in other measures occur. A complete history of the subject is given,
and in some of the digressions there are charming passages, notably one
(given by M. de Montaiglon) on the country life. Another very beautiful
poem, commonly attributed to Martial, is entitled L'Amant rendu Cordelier
au service de l'Amour, a piece of amorous allegory at once characteristic of
the later middle ages, and free from the faults usually found in such work. A
prose work of a somewhat similar kind, entitled Arrêts d'Amour, is known
to be Martial's. In no writer is there to be found more of the better part of
Marot, as in the light skipping verses:—
Mieux vault la liesse,
L'accueil et l'addresse,
L'amour et simplesse,
De bergers pasteurs,
Qu'avoir à largesse
Or, argent, richesse,
Ne la gentillesse
De ces grants seigneurs.
Car ils ont douleurs
Et des maulx greigneurs,
Mais pour nos labeurs
Nous avons sans cesse
Les beaulx prés et fleurs,
Fruitages, odeurs
Et joye à nos cœurs
Sans mal qui nous blesse.
There is something of the old pastourelles in this, and of a note of
simplicity which French poetry had long lost.
Such verse as this of Martial d'Auvergne was, indeed,
the exception at the time. The staple poetry of the age The Rhétoriqueurs.
was that of the grands rhétoriqueurs, as it has become
usual to call them, apparently from a phrase of Coquillart's. Georges
Chastellain[162] was the great master of this school. But to him personally
'Psalms' and nine 'Lessons.' The staple metre is the quatrain, but detached
pieces in other measures occur. A complete history of the subject is given,
and in some of the digressions there are charming passages, notably one
(given by M. de Montaiglon) on the country life. Another very beautiful
poem, commonly attributed to Martial, is entitled L'Amant rendu Cordelier
au service de l'Amour, a piece of amorous allegory at once characteristic of
the later middle ages, and free from the faults usually found in such work. A
prose work of a somewhat similar kind, entitled Arrêts d'Amour, is known
to be Martial's. In no writer is there to be found more of the better part of
Marot, as in the light skipping verses:—
Mieux vault la liesse,
L'accueil et l'addresse,
L'amour et simplesse,
De bergers pasteurs,
Qu'avoir à largesse
Or, argent, richesse,
Ne la gentillesse
De ces grants seigneurs.
Car ils ont douleurs
Et des maulx greigneurs,
Mais pour nos labeurs
Nous avons sans cesse
Les beaulx prés et fleurs,
Fruitages, odeurs
Et joye à nos cœurs
Sans mal qui nous blesse.
There is something of the old pastourelles in this, and of a note of
simplicity which French poetry had long lost.
Such verse as this of Martial d'Auvergne was, indeed,
the exception at the time. The staple poetry of the age The Rhétoriqueurs.
was that of the grands rhétoriqueurs, as it has become
usual to call them, apparently from a phrase of Coquillart's. Georges
Chastellain[162] was the great master of this school. But to him personally
Page 202
some injustice has been done. His pupils and successors, however, for the
most part deserve the ill repute in which they are held. This school of poetry
had three principal characteristics. It affected the most artificial forms of the
artificial poetry which the fourteenth century had seen established, the most
complicated modulations of rhyme, such as the repetition, twice or even
thrice at the end of a line, of the same sound in a different sense, and all the
other puerilities of this particular Ars Poetica. Secondly, it pursued to the
very utmost the tradition of allegorising, of which the Roman de la Rose
had established the popularity. Thirdly, it followed the example set by
Chartier and his contemporaries of loading the language as much as
possible with Latinisms, and in a less degree, because Greek was then but
indirectly known, Graecisms. These three things taken together produced
some of the most intolerable poetry ever written. The school had, indeed,
much vitality in it, and overlapped the beginnings of the Renaissance in
such a manner that it will be necessary to take note of it again in the next
chapter. Some, however, of its greatest lights belonged to the present period.
Such were Robertet, a heavy versifier and the author of letters not easily to
be excelled in pedantic coxcombry, who enjoyed much patronage, royal and
other; Molinet, a direct disciple of Chastellain, and, like him, of the
Burgundian party; and Meschinot (died 1509), a Breton, who has left us an
allegorical work on the 'Spectacles of Princes,' and poems which can be
read in thirty different ways, any word being as good to begin with as any
other. Such also was the father of a better poet than himself, Octavien de
Saint Gelais (1466-1502), who died young and worn out by debauchery.
Jean Marot, the father of Clément, was a not inconsiderable master of the
ballade, and has left poems which do not show to great disadvantage by the
side of those of his accomplished son. But the leader of the whole was
Guillaume Crétin (birth and death dates uncertain), whom his
contemporaries extolled in the most extravagant fashion, and whom a single
satirical stroke of Rabelais has made a laughing-stock for some three
hundred and fifty years. The rondeau ascribed to Raminagrobis, the 'vieux
poète français' of Pantagruel[163], is Crétin's, and the name and character
have stuck. Crétin was not worse than his fellows; but when even such a
man as Marot could call him a poète souverain, Rabelais no doubt felt it
time to protest in his own way. Marot himself, it is to be observed, confines
himself chiefly to citing Crétin's vers équivoqués, which of their kind, and if
we could do otherwise than pronounce that kind hopelessly bad, are without
most part deserve the ill repute in which they are held. This school of poetry
had three principal characteristics. It affected the most artificial forms of the
artificial poetry which the fourteenth century had seen established, the most
complicated modulations of rhyme, such as the repetition, twice or even
thrice at the end of a line, of the same sound in a different sense, and all the
other puerilities of this particular Ars Poetica. Secondly, it pursued to the
very utmost the tradition of allegorising, of which the Roman de la Rose
had established the popularity. Thirdly, it followed the example set by
Chartier and his contemporaries of loading the language as much as
possible with Latinisms, and in a less degree, because Greek was then but
indirectly known, Graecisms. These three things taken together produced
some of the most intolerable poetry ever written. The school had, indeed,
much vitality in it, and overlapped the beginnings of the Renaissance in
such a manner that it will be necessary to take note of it again in the next
chapter. Some, however, of its greatest lights belonged to the present period.
Such were Robertet, a heavy versifier and the author of letters not easily to
be excelled in pedantic coxcombry, who enjoyed much patronage, royal and
other; Molinet, a direct disciple of Chastellain, and, like him, of the
Burgundian party; and Meschinot (died 1509), a Breton, who has left us an
allegorical work on the 'Spectacles of Princes,' and poems which can be
read in thirty different ways, any word being as good to begin with as any
other. Such also was the father of a better poet than himself, Octavien de
Saint Gelais (1466-1502), who died young and worn out by debauchery.
Jean Marot, the father of Clément, was a not inconsiderable master of the
ballade, and has left poems which do not show to great disadvantage by the
side of those of his accomplished son. But the leader of the whole was
Guillaume Crétin (birth and death dates uncertain), whom his
contemporaries extolled in the most extravagant fashion, and whom a single
satirical stroke of Rabelais has made a laughing-stock for some three
hundred and fifty years. The rondeau ascribed to Raminagrobis, the 'vieux
poète français' of Pantagruel[163], is Crétin's, and the name and character
have stuck. Crétin was not worse than his fellows; but when even such a
man as Marot could call him a poète souverain, Rabelais no doubt felt it
time to protest in his own way. Marot himself, it is to be observed, confines
himself chiefly to citing Crétin's vers équivoqués, which of their kind, and if
we could do otherwise than pronounce that kind hopelessly bad, are without
Page 203
doubt ingenious. His poems are chiefly occasional verse, letters, débats,
etc., besides ballades and rondeaux of all kinds.
One charming book which has been preserved to us
gives a pleasant contrast to the formal poetry of the time. Chansons du XVème
The Chansons du XVème Siècle, which M. Gaston Paris Siècle.
has published for the Old French Text Society[164], exhibit informal and
popular poetry in its most agreeable aspect. They are one hundred and
forty-three in number, some of them no doubt much older than the fifteenth
century, but certainly none of them younger. There are pastourelles, war-
songs, love-songs in great number, a few patriotic ditties, and a few which
may be called pure folksongs, with the story half lost and only a musical
tangle of words remaining. Nothing can be more natural and simple than
most of these pieces.
Few of the miscellaneous branches of literature at this
time deserve notice. But there was a group of preachers Preachers.
who have received attention, which is said by students of
the whole subject of the mediaeval pulpit in France to be disproportionate,
but which they owe perhaps not least to the citations of them in a celebrated
and amusing book of the next age, the Apologie pour Hérodote of Henri
Estienne. These are Menot (1440-1518) and Maillard the Franciscans, and
Raulin (1443-1514), a doctor of the Sorbonne. These preachers, living at a
time which was not one of popular sovereignty, did not meddle with politics
as preachers had done in France before and were to do again. But they
carried into the pulpit the habit of satirical denunciation in social as well as
in purely religious matters, and gave free vent to their zeal. No illustrations
of the singular licence which the middle ages permitted on such occasions
are more curious than these sermons. Not merely did the preachers attack
their audience for their faults in the most outspoken manner, but they
interspersed their discourses (as indeed was the invariable custom
throughout the whole middle ages) with stories of all kinds. In Raulin, the
gravest of the three, occurs the famous history of the church bells, which
reappears in Rabelais, à propos of the marriage of Panurge.
FOOTNOTES:
etc., besides ballades and rondeaux of all kinds.
One charming book which has been preserved to us
gives a pleasant contrast to the formal poetry of the time. Chansons du XVème
The Chansons du XVème Siècle, which M. Gaston Paris Siècle.
has published for the Old French Text Society[164], exhibit informal and
popular poetry in its most agreeable aspect. They are one hundred and
forty-three in number, some of them no doubt much older than the fifteenth
century, but certainly none of them younger. There are pastourelles, war-
songs, love-songs in great number, a few patriotic ditties, and a few which
may be called pure folksongs, with the story half lost and only a musical
tangle of words remaining. Nothing can be more natural and simple than
most of these pieces.
Few of the miscellaneous branches of literature at this
time deserve notice. But there was a group of preachers Preachers.
who have received attention, which is said by students of
the whole subject of the mediaeval pulpit in France to be disproportionate,
but which they owe perhaps not least to the citations of them in a celebrated
and amusing book of the next age, the Apologie pour Hérodote of Henri
Estienne. These are Menot (1440-1518) and Maillard the Franciscans, and
Raulin (1443-1514), a doctor of the Sorbonne. These preachers, living at a
time which was not one of popular sovereignty, did not meddle with politics
as preachers had done in France before and were to do again. But they
carried into the pulpit the habit of satirical denunciation in social as well as
in purely religious matters, and gave free vent to their zeal. No illustrations
of the singular licence which the middle ages permitted on such occasions
are more curious than these sermons. Not merely did the preachers attack
their audience for their faults in the most outspoken manner, but they
interspersed their discourses (as indeed was the invariable custom
throughout the whole middle ages) with stories of all kinds. In Raulin, the
gravest of the three, occurs the famous history of the church bells, which
reappears in Rabelais, à propos of the marriage of Panurge.
FOOTNOTES:
Page 204
[153]
Villon sut le premier, dans ces siècles grossiers,
Débrouiller l'art confus de nos vieux romanciers.
Art Poét. Ch. 1.
[154] Ed. P. L. Jacob. Paris, 1854. Villon's life has been the subject of numerous
elaborate investigations, the latest and best of which is that of A. Longnon. Paris,
1877. Dr. Bijvanck, a Dutch scholar, has dealt since with the MSS.
[155] One of these anecdotes makes him patronised by Edward the Fifth of
England. But the very terms of it are unsuitable to that king.
[156] The reader may be reminded that the Testament was a recognised
mediaeval style. It was satirical and allegorical, the legacies which it gave being
mostly indicative of the legatee's weaknesses or personal peculiarities.
[157] Ed. Chantelauze. Paris, 1881. Also usefully in Michaud et Poujoulat.
[158] Ed. Kervyn de Lettenhove. 2 vols. Brussels, 1867-8.
[159] Ed. Héricault. 2 vols. Paris, 1857.
[160] Edited in part by J. Quicherat. Paris, 1856.
[161] Martial d'Auvergne had the exceptional good luck to be reprinted in the
18th century (Vigilles 1724, Arrêts 1731), but he has not recently found an
editor, though an edition of the Amant rendu Cordelier has been for some time
due from the Société des Anciens Textes. The notice by M. de Montaiglon (the
promised editor of the edition just mentioned) in Crepet's Poètes Français, i.
427, has been chiefly used here for facts.
[162] Ed. Kervyn de Lettenhove, as previously cited. For the remainder of the
poets reviewed in this paragraph, few of whom have found modern editors, see
Crepet, Poètes Français, vol. i.
[163] iii. 21.
[164] Paris, 1876.
Villon sut le premier, dans ces siècles grossiers,
Débrouiller l'art confus de nos vieux romanciers.
Art Poét. Ch. 1.
[154] Ed. P. L. Jacob. Paris, 1854. Villon's life has been the subject of numerous
elaborate investigations, the latest and best of which is that of A. Longnon. Paris,
1877. Dr. Bijvanck, a Dutch scholar, has dealt since with the MSS.
[155] One of these anecdotes makes him patronised by Edward the Fifth of
England. But the very terms of it are unsuitable to that king.
[156] The reader may be reminded that the Testament was a recognised
mediaeval style. It was satirical and allegorical, the legacies which it gave being
mostly indicative of the legatee's weaknesses or personal peculiarities.
[157] Ed. Chantelauze. Paris, 1881. Also usefully in Michaud et Poujoulat.
[158] Ed. Kervyn de Lettenhove. 2 vols. Brussels, 1867-8.
[159] Ed. Héricault. 2 vols. Paris, 1857.
[160] Edited in part by J. Quicherat. Paris, 1856.
[161] Martial d'Auvergne had the exceptional good luck to be reprinted in the
18th century (Vigilles 1724, Arrêts 1731), but he has not recently found an
editor, though an edition of the Amant rendu Cordelier has been for some time
due from the Société des Anciens Textes. The notice by M. de Montaiglon (the
promised editor of the edition just mentioned) in Crepet's Poètes Français, i.
427, has been chiefly used here for facts.
[162] Ed. Kervyn de Lettenhove, as previously cited. For the remainder of the
poets reviewed in this paragraph, few of whom have found modern editors, see
Crepet, Poètes Français, vol. i.
[163] iii. 21.
[164] Paris, 1876.
Page 205
CHAPTER II.
MAROT AND HIS CONTEMPORARIES.
The beginnings of the Renaissance in France manifest,
as we should expect, a mixture of the characteristics of Hybrid School of
Poetry.
the later middle ages and of the new learning. In those
times the influence of reforms of any kind filtered slowly through the dense
crust of custom which covered the national life of each people, and there is
nothing surprising in the fact that while Italy felt the full influence of the
influx of classical culture in the fifteenth century, that influence should be
only partially manifest in France during the first quarter of the sixteenth,
while it was not until the century was more than half over that it showed
itself in England. The complete manifestation of the combined tendencies
of mediaeval and neo-pagan thought was only displayed in Shakespeare,
but by that time, as is the wont of all such things, it had already manifested
itself partially, though in each part more fully and characteristically,
elsewhere. It is in the literature of France that we find the most complete
exposition of these partial developments. Marot, Ronsard, Rabelais, Calvin,
Garnier, Montaigne, will not altogether make up a Shakespeare, yet of the
various ingredients which go to make up the greatest of literary productions
each of them had shown, before Shakespeare began to write, some complete
and remarkable embodiment. It is this fact which gives the French literature
of the sixteenth century its especial interest. Italy had almost ceased to be
animated by the genius of the middle ages before her literature became in
any way perfect in form, and the survival of the classical spirit was so
strong there that mediaeval influence was never very potent in the moulding
of the national letters. England had lost the mediaeval differentia, owing to
religious and political causes, before the Renaissance made its way to her
shores. But in France the two currents met, though the earlier had lost most
of its force, and, according to the time-honoured parallel, flowed on long
together before they coalesced. In the following chapters we shall trace the
history of this process, and here we shall trace the first stage of it in
reference to French poetry. In the period of which Marot is the
MAROT AND HIS CONTEMPORARIES.
The beginnings of the Renaissance in France manifest,
as we should expect, a mixture of the characteristics of Hybrid School of
Poetry.
the later middle ages and of the new learning. In those
times the influence of reforms of any kind filtered slowly through the dense
crust of custom which covered the national life of each people, and there is
nothing surprising in the fact that while Italy felt the full influence of the
influx of classical culture in the fifteenth century, that influence should be
only partially manifest in France during the first quarter of the sixteenth,
while it was not until the century was more than half over that it showed
itself in England. The complete manifestation of the combined tendencies
of mediaeval and neo-pagan thought was only displayed in Shakespeare,
but by that time, as is the wont of all such things, it had already manifested
itself partially, though in each part more fully and characteristically,
elsewhere. It is in the literature of France that we find the most complete
exposition of these partial developments. Marot, Ronsard, Rabelais, Calvin,
Garnier, Montaigne, will not altogether make up a Shakespeare, yet of the
various ingredients which go to make up the greatest of literary productions
each of them had shown, before Shakespeare began to write, some complete
and remarkable embodiment. It is this fact which gives the French literature
of the sixteenth century its especial interest. Italy had almost ceased to be
animated by the genius of the middle ages before her literature became in
any way perfect in form, and the survival of the classical spirit was so
strong there that mediaeval influence was never very potent in the moulding
of the national letters. England had lost the mediaeval differentia, owing to
religious and political causes, before the Renaissance made its way to her
shores. But in France the two currents met, though the earlier had lost most
of its force, and, according to the time-honoured parallel, flowed on long
together before they coalesced. In the following chapters we shall trace the
history of this process, and here we shall trace the first stage of it in
reference to French poetry. In the period of which Marot is the
Page 206
representative name, the earlier force was still dominant in externals; in that
of which Ronsard is the exponent, the Greek and Latin element shows itself
as, for the moment, all-powerful.
Between the rhétoriqueurs proper, the Chastellains and
the Crétins and the Molinets on the one hand, and Marot Jean le Maire.
and his contemporaries and disciples on the other, a
school of poets, considerable at least in numbers, Jehan du Pontalais.
intervened. The chief of these was Jean le Maire des
Belges[165]. He was the nephew of Molinet, and his birth at Belges or Bavia
in Hainault, as well as his literary ancestry and predilections, inclined him
to the Burgundian, or, as it was now, the Austrian side. But the strong
national feeling which was now beginning to distinguish French-speaking
men threw him on the side of the King of Paris, and he was chiefly
occupied in his serious literary work on tasks which were wholly French.
His Illustrations des Gaules is his principal prose work, and in this he
displays a remarkable faculty of writing prose at once picturesque and
correct. The titles of his other works (Temple d'Honneur et de Vertu, etc.)
still recall the fifteenth century, and the Latinising tradition of Chartier
appears strong in him. But at the same time he Latinises with a due regard
to the genius of the language, and his work, pedantic and conceited as it
frequently is, stands in singular contrast to the work of some of his models.
Something not dissimilar, though in this case the rhétoriqueur influence is
less apparent, may be said of Pierre Gringore, whose true title to a place in a
history of French literature is, however, derived from his dramatic work,
and who will accordingly be mentioned later. Nor had the tradition of
Villon, overlaid though it was by the abundance and popularity of formal
and allegorising poetry, died out in France. At least two remarkable figures,
Jehan du Pontalais and Roger de Collérye, represent it in the first quarter of
the century. The former indeed[166] owes his place here rather to a theory
than to certain information; for if M. d'Héricault's notion that Jehan du
Pontalais is the author of a work entitled Contreditz du Songecreux be
without foundation, Jehan falls back into the number of half mythical
Bohemians, bilkers of tavern bills and successful out-witters of the officers
of justice, who possess a shadowy personality in the literary history of
France. Les Contreditz du Songecreux ranks among the most remarkable
examples of the liberty which was accorded to the press under the reign of
of which Ronsard is the exponent, the Greek and Latin element shows itself
as, for the moment, all-powerful.
Between the rhétoriqueurs proper, the Chastellains and
the Crétins and the Molinets on the one hand, and Marot Jean le Maire.
and his contemporaries and disciples on the other, a
school of poets, considerable at least in numbers, Jehan du Pontalais.
intervened. The chief of these was Jean le Maire des
Belges[165]. He was the nephew of Molinet, and his birth at Belges or Bavia
in Hainault, as well as his literary ancestry and predilections, inclined him
to the Burgundian, or, as it was now, the Austrian side. But the strong
national feeling which was now beginning to distinguish French-speaking
men threw him on the side of the King of Paris, and he was chiefly
occupied in his serious literary work on tasks which were wholly French.
His Illustrations des Gaules is his principal prose work, and in this he
displays a remarkable faculty of writing prose at once picturesque and
correct. The titles of his other works (Temple d'Honneur et de Vertu, etc.)
still recall the fifteenth century, and the Latinising tradition of Chartier
appears strong in him. But at the same time he Latinises with a due regard
to the genius of the language, and his work, pedantic and conceited as it
frequently is, stands in singular contrast to the work of some of his models.
Something not dissimilar, though in this case the rhétoriqueur influence is
less apparent, may be said of Pierre Gringore, whose true title to a place in a
history of French literature is, however, derived from his dramatic work,
and who will accordingly be mentioned later. Nor had the tradition of
Villon, overlaid though it was by the abundance and popularity of formal
and allegorising poetry, died out in France. At least two remarkable figures,
Jehan du Pontalais and Roger de Collérye, represent it in the first quarter of
the century. The former indeed[166] owes his place here rather to a theory
than to certain information; for if M. d'Héricault's notion that Jehan du
Pontalais is the author of a work entitled Contreditz du Songecreux be
without foundation, Jehan falls back into the number of half mythical
Bohemians, bilkers of tavern bills and successful out-witters of the officers
of justice, who possess a shadowy personality in the literary history of
France. Les Contreditz du Songecreux ranks among the most remarkable
examples of the liberty which was accorded to the press under the reign of
Page 207
Louis XII., a king who inherited some affection for literature from his
father, Charles d'Orléans, and a keen perception of the importance of
literary co-operation in political work from his ancestor, Philippe le Bel,
and his cousin Louis XI. In precision and strikingness of expression Jehan
recalls Villon; in the boldness of his satire on the great and the bitterness of
his attacks on the character of women he recalls Antoine de la Salle and
Coquillart. A trait illustrating the former power may be found in the line
descriptive of the hen-pecked man's condition—
Tous ses cinq sens lui fault retraire.
while his attacks on the nobility are almost up to the level of Burns—
Noblesse enrichie Richesse ennoblie Tiennent leurs estatz,
Qui n'a noble vie Je vous certifie Noble n'est pas.
Roger de Collérye[167] was a Burgundian, living at the
famous and vinous town of Auxerre, and he has Roger de Collérye.
celebrated his loves, his distress, his amiable tendency to
conviviality, in many rondeaux and other poems, Minor Predecessors
of Marot.
sometimes attaining a very high level of excellence. 'Je
suis Bon-temps, vous le voyez' is the second line of one of his irregular
ballades, and the nickname expresses his general attitude well enough.
Mediaeval legacies of allegory, however, supply him with more unpleasant
personages, Faute d'Argent and Plate-Bourse, for his song, and his mistress,
Gilleberte de Beaurepaire, appears to have been anything but continuously
kind. Collérye has less perhaps of the rhétoriqueur flavour than any poet of
this time before Marot, and his verse is very frequently remarkable for
directness and grace of diction. But like most verse of the kind it frequently
drops into a conventionality less wearisome but not much less definite than
that of the mere allegorisers. Jehan Bouchet[168], a lawyer of Poitiers (not to
be confounded with Guillaume Bouchet, author of the Sérées), imitated the
rhétoriqueurs for the most part in form, and surpassed them in length,
excelling indeed in this respect even the long-winded and long-lived poets
of the close of the fourteenth century. Bouchet is said to have composed a
hundred thousand verses, and even M. d'Héricault avers that he read two-
thirds of the number without discovering more than six quotable lines. Such
father, Charles d'Orléans, and a keen perception of the importance of
literary co-operation in political work from his ancestor, Philippe le Bel,
and his cousin Louis XI. In precision and strikingness of expression Jehan
recalls Villon; in the boldness of his satire on the great and the bitterness of
his attacks on the character of women he recalls Antoine de la Salle and
Coquillart. A trait illustrating the former power may be found in the line
descriptive of the hen-pecked man's condition—
Tous ses cinq sens lui fault retraire.
while his attacks on the nobility are almost up to the level of Burns—
Noblesse enrichie Richesse ennoblie Tiennent leurs estatz,
Qui n'a noble vie Je vous certifie Noble n'est pas.
Roger de Collérye[167] was a Burgundian, living at the
famous and vinous town of Auxerre, and he has Roger de Collérye.
celebrated his loves, his distress, his amiable tendency to
conviviality, in many rondeaux and other poems, Minor Predecessors
of Marot.
sometimes attaining a very high level of excellence. 'Je
suis Bon-temps, vous le voyez' is the second line of one of his irregular
ballades, and the nickname expresses his general attitude well enough.
Mediaeval legacies of allegory, however, supply him with more unpleasant
personages, Faute d'Argent and Plate-Bourse, for his song, and his mistress,
Gilleberte de Beaurepaire, appears to have been anything but continuously
kind. Collérye has less perhaps of the rhétoriqueur flavour than any poet of
this time before Marot, and his verse is very frequently remarkable for
directness and grace of diction. But like most verse of the kind it frequently
drops into a conventionality less wearisome but not much less definite than
that of the mere allegorisers. Jehan Bouchet[168], a lawyer of Poitiers (not to
be confounded with Guillaume Bouchet, author of the Sérées), imitated the
rhétoriqueurs for the most part in form, and surpassed them in length,
excelling indeed in this respect even the long-winded and long-lived poets
of the close of the fourteenth century. Bouchet is said to have composed a
hundred thousand verses, and even M. d'Héricault avers that he read two-
thirds of the number without discovering more than six quotable lines. Such
Page 208
works of Bouchet as we have examined fully confirm the statement. Still,
he was an authority in his way, and had something of a reputation. His
fanciful nom de plume 'Le Traverseur des Voies Périlleuses' is the most
picturesque thing he produced, and is not uncharacteristic of the later
middle age tradition. Rabelais himself, who was a fair critic of poetry when
his friends were not concerned, but who was no poet, and was even
strikingly deficient in some of the characteristics of the poet, admired and
emulated Bouchet in heavy verse; and a numerously attended school, hardly
any of the pupils being worth individual mention, gathered round the
lawyer. Charles de Bordigné is only remarkable for having, in his Légende
de Pierre Faifeu, united the rhétoriqueur style with a kind of Villonesque or
rather pseudo-Villonesque subject. The title of the chief poems of
Symphorien Champier, Le Nef des Dames Amoureuses, sufficiently
indicates his style. But Champier, though by no means a good poet, was a
useful and studious man of letters, and did much to form the literary
cénacle which gathered at Lyons in the second quarter of the century, and
which, both in original composition, in translations of the classics, and in
scholarly publication of work both ancient and modern, rendered invaluable
service to literature. Gratien du Pont[169] continued the now very stale
mediaeval calumnies on women in his Controverses des Sexes Masculin et
Féminin. Eloy d'Amerval, a Picard priest, also fell into mediaeval lines in
his Livre de la Déablerie, in which the personages of Lucifer and Satan are
made the mouthpieces of much social satire. Jean Parmentier, a sailor and a
poet, combined his two professions in Les Merveilles de Dieu, a poem
including some powerful verse. A vigorous ballade, with the refrain Car
France est Cymetièreaux Anglois, has preserved the name of Pierre Vachot.
But the remaining poets of this time could only find a place in a very
extended literary history. Most of them, in the words of one of their number,
took continual lessons ès œuvres Crétiniques et Bouchetiques, and some of
them succeeded at last in imitating the dulness of Bouchet and the
preposterous mannerisms of Crétin. Perhaps no equal period in all early
French history produced more and at the same time worse verse than the
reign of Louis XII. Fortunately, however, a true poet, if one of some
limitations, took up the tradition, and showed what it could do. Marot has
sometimes been regarded as the father of modern French poetry, which,
unless modern French poetry is limited to La Fontaine and the poets of the
eighteenth century, is absolutely false. He is sometimes regarded as the last
he was an authority in his way, and had something of a reputation. His
fanciful nom de plume 'Le Traverseur des Voies Périlleuses' is the most
picturesque thing he produced, and is not uncharacteristic of the later
middle age tradition. Rabelais himself, who was a fair critic of poetry when
his friends were not concerned, but who was no poet, and was even
strikingly deficient in some of the characteristics of the poet, admired and
emulated Bouchet in heavy verse; and a numerously attended school, hardly
any of the pupils being worth individual mention, gathered round the
lawyer. Charles de Bordigné is only remarkable for having, in his Légende
de Pierre Faifeu, united the rhétoriqueur style with a kind of Villonesque or
rather pseudo-Villonesque subject. The title of the chief poems of
Symphorien Champier, Le Nef des Dames Amoureuses, sufficiently
indicates his style. But Champier, though by no means a good poet, was a
useful and studious man of letters, and did much to form the literary
cénacle which gathered at Lyons in the second quarter of the century, and
which, both in original composition, in translations of the classics, and in
scholarly publication of work both ancient and modern, rendered invaluable
service to literature. Gratien du Pont[169] continued the now very stale
mediaeval calumnies on women in his Controverses des Sexes Masculin et
Féminin. Eloy d'Amerval, a Picard priest, also fell into mediaeval lines in
his Livre de la Déablerie, in which the personages of Lucifer and Satan are
made the mouthpieces of much social satire. Jean Parmentier, a sailor and a
poet, combined his two professions in Les Merveilles de Dieu, a poem
including some powerful verse. A vigorous ballade, with the refrain Car
France est Cymetièreaux Anglois, has preserved the name of Pierre Vachot.
But the remaining poets of this time could only find a place in a very
extended literary history. Most of them, in the words of one of their number,
took continual lessons ès œuvres Crétiniques et Bouchetiques, and some of
them succeeded at last in imitating the dulness of Bouchet and the
preposterous mannerisms of Crétin. Perhaps no equal period in all early
French history produced more and at the same time worse verse than the
reign of Louis XII. Fortunately, however, a true poet, if one of some
limitations, took up the tradition, and showed what it could do. Marot has
sometimes been regarded as the father of modern French poetry, which,
unless modern French poetry is limited to La Fontaine and the poets of the
eighteenth century, is absolutely false. He is sometimes regarded as the last
Page 209
of mediaeval poets, which, though truer, is false likewise. What he really
was can be shown without much difficulty.
Clément Marot[170] was a man of more mixed race than
was usual at this period, when the provincial distinctions Clément Marot.
were still as a rule maintained with some sharpness. His
father, Jean Marot, a poet of merit, was a Norman, but he emigrated to
Quercy, and Marot's mother was a native of Cahors, a town which, from its
Papal connections, as well as its situation on the borders of Gascony, was
specially southern. Clément was born probably at the beginning of 1497,
and his father educated him with some pains in things poetical. This, as
times went, necessitated an admiration of Crétin and such like persons, and
the practice of rondeaux, and of other poetry strict in form and allegorical in
matter. As it happened, the discipline was a very sound one for Marot,
whose natural bent was far too vigorous and too lithe to be stiffened or
stunted by it, while it unquestionably supplied wholesome limitations which
preserved him from mere slovenly facility. It is evident, too, that he had a
sincere and genuine love of things mediaeval, as his devotion to the Roman
de la Rose and to Villon's poems, both of which he edited, sufficiently
shows. He 'came into France,' an expression of his own, which shows the
fragmentary condition of the kingdom even at this late period, when he was
about ten years old. His father held an appointment as 'Escripvain' to Anne
of Brittany, and accompanied her husband to Genoa in 1507. The
University of Paris, and a short sojourn among the students of law,
completed Clément's education, and he then became a page to a nobleman,
thus obtaining a position at court or, at least, the chance of one. It is not
known when his earliest attempt at following the Crétinic lessons was
composed; but in 1514, being then but a stripling, he presented his
Jugement de Minos to François de Valois, soon to be king. A translation of
the first Eclogue of Virgil had even preceded this. Both poems are well
written and versified, but decidedly in the rhétoriqueur style. In 1519,
having already received or assumed the title of 'Facteur' (poet) to Queen
Claude, he became one of the special adherents of Marguerite
d'Angoulême, the famous sister of Francis, from whom, a few years later,
we find him in receipt of a pension. He also occupied some post in the
household of her husband, the King of Navarre. In 1524 he went to Italy
with Francis, was wounded and taken prisoner at Pavia, but returned to
was can be shown without much difficulty.
Clément Marot[170] was a man of more mixed race than
was usual at this period, when the provincial distinctions Clément Marot.
were still as a rule maintained with some sharpness. His
father, Jean Marot, a poet of merit, was a Norman, but he emigrated to
Quercy, and Marot's mother was a native of Cahors, a town which, from its
Papal connections, as well as its situation on the borders of Gascony, was
specially southern. Clément was born probably at the beginning of 1497,
and his father educated him with some pains in things poetical. This, as
times went, necessitated an admiration of Crétin and such like persons, and
the practice of rondeaux, and of other poetry strict in form and allegorical in
matter. As it happened, the discipline was a very sound one for Marot,
whose natural bent was far too vigorous and too lithe to be stiffened or
stunted by it, while it unquestionably supplied wholesome limitations which
preserved him from mere slovenly facility. It is evident, too, that he had a
sincere and genuine love of things mediaeval, as his devotion to the Roman
de la Rose and to Villon's poems, both of which he edited, sufficiently
shows. He 'came into France,' an expression of his own, which shows the
fragmentary condition of the kingdom even at this late period, when he was
about ten years old. His father held an appointment as 'Escripvain' to Anne
of Brittany, and accompanied her husband to Genoa in 1507. The
University of Paris, and a short sojourn among the students of law,
completed Clément's education, and he then became a page to a nobleman,
thus obtaining a position at court or, at least, the chance of one. It is not
known when his earliest attempt at following the Crétinic lessons was
composed; but in 1514, being then but a stripling, he presented his
Jugement de Minos to François de Valois, soon to be king. A translation of
the first Eclogue of Virgil had even preceded this. Both poems are well
written and versified, but decidedly in the rhétoriqueur style. In 1519,
having already received or assumed the title of 'Facteur' (poet) to Queen
Claude, he became one of the special adherents of Marguerite
d'Angoulême, the famous sister of Francis, from whom, a few years later,
we find him in receipt of a pension. He also occupied some post in the
household of her husband, the King of Navarre. In 1524 he went to Italy
with Francis, was wounded and taken prisoner at Pavia, but returned to
Page 210
France the next year. Marguerite's immediate followers were distinguished,
some by their adherence to the principles of the Reformation, others by free
thought of a still more unorthodox description, and Marot soon after his
return was accused of heresy and lodged in the Châtelet. He was, however,
soon transferred to a place of mitigated restraint, and finally set at liberty.
About this time his father died. In 1528 he obtained a post and a pension in
the King's own household. He was again in difficulties, but again got out of
them, and in 1530 he married. But the next year he was once more in
danger on the old charge of heresy, and was again rescued from the chats
fourrés by Marguerite. He had already edited the Roman de la Rose, but no
regular edition of his own work had appeared. In 1533 came out not merely
his edition of Villon, but a collection of his own youthful work under the
pretty title Adolescence Clémentine. In 1535 the Parliament of Paris for a
fourth time molested Marot. Marguerite's influence was now insufficient to
protect him, and the poet fled first to Béarn and then to Ferrara. Here, under
the protection of Renée de France, he lived and wrote for some time, but the
persecution again grew hot. He retired to Venice, but in 1539 obtained
permission to return to France. Francis gave him a house in the Faubourg
Saint Germain, and here apparently he wrote his famous Psalms, which had
an immense popularity; these the Sorbonne condemned, and Marot once
more fled, this time to Geneva. He found this place an uncomfortable
sojourn, and crossed the Alps into Piedmont, where, not long afterwards, he
died in 1544.
Marot's work is sufficiently diverse in form, but the classification of it
adopted in the convenient edition of Jannet is perhaps the best, though it
neglects chronology. There are some dozen pieces of more or less
considerable length, among which may specially be mentioned Le Temple
de Cupido, an early work of rhétoriqueur character for the most part, in
dizains of ten and eight syllables alternately, a Dialogue of two Lovers, an
Eclogue to the King; L'Enfer, a vigorous and picturesque description of his
imprisonment in the Châtelet, and some poems bearing a strong Huguenot
impression. Then come sixty-five epistles written in couplets for the most
part decasyllabic. These include the celebrated Coq-à-l'Âne, a sort of
nonsense-verse, with a satirical tendency, which derives from the mediaeval
fatrasie, and was very popular and much imitated. Another mediaeval
restoration of Marot's, also very popular and also much imitated, was the
some by their adherence to the principles of the Reformation, others by free
thought of a still more unorthodox description, and Marot soon after his
return was accused of heresy and lodged in the Châtelet. He was, however,
soon transferred to a place of mitigated restraint, and finally set at liberty.
About this time his father died. In 1528 he obtained a post and a pension in
the King's own household. He was again in difficulties, but again got out of
them, and in 1530 he married. But the next year he was once more in
danger on the old charge of heresy, and was again rescued from the chats
fourrés by Marguerite. He had already edited the Roman de la Rose, but no
regular edition of his own work had appeared. In 1533 came out not merely
his edition of Villon, but a collection of his own youthful work under the
pretty title Adolescence Clémentine. In 1535 the Parliament of Paris for a
fourth time molested Marot. Marguerite's influence was now insufficient to
protect him, and the poet fled first to Béarn and then to Ferrara. Here, under
the protection of Renée de France, he lived and wrote for some time, but the
persecution again grew hot. He retired to Venice, but in 1539 obtained
permission to return to France. Francis gave him a house in the Faubourg
Saint Germain, and here apparently he wrote his famous Psalms, which had
an immense popularity; these the Sorbonne condemned, and Marot once
more fled, this time to Geneva. He found this place an uncomfortable
sojourn, and crossed the Alps into Piedmont, where, not long afterwards, he
died in 1544.
Marot's work is sufficiently diverse in form, but the classification of it
adopted in the convenient edition of Jannet is perhaps the best, though it
neglects chronology. There are some dozen pieces of more or less
considerable length, among which may specially be mentioned Le Temple
de Cupido, an early work of rhétoriqueur character for the most part, in
dizains of ten and eight syllables alternately, a Dialogue of two Lovers, an
Eclogue to the King; L'Enfer, a vigorous and picturesque description of his
imprisonment in the Châtelet, and some poems bearing a strong Huguenot
impression. Then come sixty-five epistles written in couplets for the most
part decasyllabic. These include the celebrated Coq-à-l'Âne, a sort of
nonsense-verse, with a satirical tendency, which derives from the mediaeval
fatrasie, and was very popular and much imitated. Another mediaeval
restoration of Marot's, also very popular and also much imitated, was the
Page 211
blason, a description, in octosyllables. Twenty-six elegies likewise adopt
the couplet, and show, as do the epistles, remarkable power over that form.
Fifteen ballades, twenty-two songs in various metres, eighty-two rondeaux,
and forty-two songs for music, contain much of Marot's most beautiful
work. His easy graceful style escaped the chief danger of these artificial
forms, the danger of stiffness and monotony; while he was able to get out of
them as much pathos and melody as any other French poet, except Charles
d'Orléans and Villon. Numerous étrennes recall the Xenia of Martial, and
funeral poems of various lengths and styles follow. Then we have nearly
three hundred epigrams, many of them excellent in point and elegance, a
certain number of translations, the Psalms, fifty in number, certain prayers,
and two versified renderings of Erasmus' Colloquies.
It will be seen from this enumeration that the majority of Marot's work is
what is now called occasional. No single work of his of a greater length
than a few hundred lines exists; and, after his first attempts in the
allegorical kind, almost all his works were either addressed to particular
persons, or based upon some event in his life. Marot was immensely
popular in his lifetime; and though after his death a formidable rival arose
in Ronsard, the elder poet's fame was sustained by eager disciples. With the
discredit of the Pléiade, in consequence of Malherbe's criticisms, Marot's
popularity returned in full measure, and for two centuries he was the one
French poet before the classical period who was actually read and admired
with genuine admiration by others besides professed students of antiquity.
Since the great revival of the taste for older literature, which preceded and
accompanied the Romantic movement, Marot has scarcely held this pride of
place. The Pléiade on the one hand, the purely mediaeval writers on the
other, have pushed him from his stool. But sane criticism, which declines to
depreciate one thing because it appreciates another, will always have hearty
admiration for his urbanity, his genuine wit, his graceful turn of words; and
his flashes of pathos and poetry.
It is, as has been said, one of the commonplaces of the subject to speak of
Marot as the father of modern French poetry; the phrase is, like all such
phrases, inaccurate, but, like most such phrases, it contains a certain amount
of truth. To the characteristics of the lighter French poetry, from La
Fontaine to Béranger, which has always been more popular both at home
and abroad than the more ambitious and serious efforts of French poets,
the couplet, and show, as do the epistles, remarkable power over that form.
Fifteen ballades, twenty-two songs in various metres, eighty-two rondeaux,
and forty-two songs for music, contain much of Marot's most beautiful
work. His easy graceful style escaped the chief danger of these artificial
forms, the danger of stiffness and monotony; while he was able to get out of
them as much pathos and melody as any other French poet, except Charles
d'Orléans and Villon. Numerous étrennes recall the Xenia of Martial, and
funeral poems of various lengths and styles follow. Then we have nearly
three hundred epigrams, many of them excellent in point and elegance, a
certain number of translations, the Psalms, fifty in number, certain prayers,
and two versified renderings of Erasmus' Colloquies.
It will be seen from this enumeration that the majority of Marot's work is
what is now called occasional. No single work of his of a greater length
than a few hundred lines exists; and, after his first attempts in the
allegorical kind, almost all his works were either addressed to particular
persons, or based upon some event in his life. Marot was immensely
popular in his lifetime; and though after his death a formidable rival arose
in Ronsard, the elder poet's fame was sustained by eager disciples. With the
discredit of the Pléiade, in consequence of Malherbe's criticisms, Marot's
popularity returned in full measure, and for two centuries he was the one
French poet before the classical period who was actually read and admired
with genuine admiration by others besides professed students of antiquity.
Since the great revival of the taste for older literature, which preceded and
accompanied the Romantic movement, Marot has scarcely held this pride of
place. The Pléiade on the one hand, the purely mediaeval writers on the
other, have pushed him from his stool. But sane criticism, which declines to
depreciate one thing because it appreciates another, will always have hearty
admiration for his urbanity, his genuine wit, his graceful turn of words; and
his flashes of pathos and poetry.
It is, as has been said, one of the commonplaces of the subject to speak of
Marot as the father of modern French poetry; the phrase is, like all such
phrases, inaccurate, but, like most such phrases, it contains a certain amount
of truth. To the characteristics of the lighter French poetry, from La
Fontaine to Béranger, which has always been more popular both at home
and abroad than the more ambitious and serious efforts of French poets,
Page 212
Marot does in some sort stand in a parental relation. He retained the
sprightliness and sly fun of the Fabliau-writers, while he softened their
crudity of expression, he exchanged clumsiness and horse-play for the play
of wit, and he emphasised fully in the language the two characteristics
which have never failed to distinguish it since, elegance and urbanity. His
style is somewhat pedestrian, though on occasion he can write with
exquisite tenderness, and with the most delicate suggestiveness of
expression. But as a rule he does not go deep; ease and grace, not passion or
lofty flights, are his strong points. Representing, as he did, the reaction from
the stiff forms and clumsily classical language of the rhétoriqueurs, it was
not likely that he should exhibit the tendency of his own age to classical
culture and imitation very strongly. He and his school were thus regarded
by their immediate successors of the Pléiade as rustic and uncouth singers,
for the most part very unjustly. But still Marot's work was of less general
and far-reaching importance than that of Ronsard. He brought out the best
aspect of the older French literature, and cleared away some disfiguring
encumbrances from it, but he imported nothing new. It would hardly be
unjust to say that, given the difference of a century in point of ordinary
progress, Charles d'Orléans is Marot's equal in elegance and grace, and his
superior in sentiment, while Marot is not comparable to Villon in passion or
in humour. His limitation, and at the same time his great merit, was that he
was a typical Frenchman. A famous epigram, applied to another person two
centuries later, might be applied with very little difficulty or alteration to
Marot. He had more than anybody else of his time the literary
characteristics which the ordinary literary Frenchman has. We constantly
meet in the history of literature this contrast between the men who are
simply shining examples of the ordinary type, and men who cross and blend
that type with new characters and excellences. Unquestionably the latter are
the greater, but the former cannot on any equitable scheme miss their
reward. It must be added that the positive merit of much of Marot's work is
great, though, as a rule, his longer pieces are very inferior to his shorter.
Many of the epigrams are admirable; the Psalms, which have been unjustly
depreciated of late years by French critics, have a sober and solemn music,
which is almost peculiar to the French devotional poetry of that age; the
satirical ballade of Frère Lubin is among the very best things of its kind;
while as much may be said of the rondeaux 'Dedans Paris' in the lighter
style, and 'En la Baisant' in the graver. Perhaps the famous line—
sprightliness and sly fun of the Fabliau-writers, while he softened their
crudity of expression, he exchanged clumsiness and horse-play for the play
of wit, and he emphasised fully in the language the two characteristics
which have never failed to distinguish it since, elegance and urbanity. His
style is somewhat pedestrian, though on occasion he can write with
exquisite tenderness, and with the most delicate suggestiveness of
expression. But as a rule he does not go deep; ease and grace, not passion or
lofty flights, are his strong points. Representing, as he did, the reaction from
the stiff forms and clumsily classical language of the rhétoriqueurs, it was
not likely that he should exhibit the tendency of his own age to classical
culture and imitation very strongly. He and his school were thus regarded
by their immediate successors of the Pléiade as rustic and uncouth singers,
for the most part very unjustly. But still Marot's work was of less general
and far-reaching importance than that of Ronsard. He brought out the best
aspect of the older French literature, and cleared away some disfiguring
encumbrances from it, but he imported nothing new. It would hardly be
unjust to say that, given the difference of a century in point of ordinary
progress, Charles d'Orléans is Marot's equal in elegance and grace, and his
superior in sentiment, while Marot is not comparable to Villon in passion or
in humour. His limitation, and at the same time his great merit, was that he
was a typical Frenchman. A famous epigram, applied to another person two
centuries later, might be applied with very little difficulty or alteration to
Marot. He had more than anybody else of his time the literary
characteristics which the ordinary literary Frenchman has. We constantly
meet in the history of literature this contrast between the men who are
simply shining examples of the ordinary type, and men who cross and blend
that type with new characters and excellences. Unquestionably the latter are
the greater, but the former cannot on any equitable scheme miss their
reward. It must be added that the positive merit of much of Marot's work is
great, though, as a rule, his longer pieces are very inferior to his shorter.
Many of the epigrams are admirable; the Psalms, which have been unjustly
depreciated of late years by French critics, have a sober and solemn music,
which is almost peculiar to the French devotional poetry of that age; the
satirical ballade of Frère Lubin is among the very best things of its kind;
while as much may be said of the rondeaux 'Dedans Paris' in the lighter
style, and 'En la Baisant' in the graver. Perhaps the famous line—
Page 213
Un doux nenny avec un doux sourire,
supposed to have been addressed to the Queen of Navarre, expresses
Marot's poetical powers as well as anything else, showing as it does grace
of language, tender and elegant sentiment, and suppleness, ease, and
fluency of style.
Marot formed a very considerable school, some of
whom directly imitated his mannerisms, and composed The School of
Marot.
blasons[171] and Coq-à-l'Âne in emulation of their
master and of each other, while others contented themselves with displaying
the same general characteristics, and setting the same poetical ideals before
them. Among the idlest, but busiest literary quarrels of the century, a
century fertile in such things, was that between Marot and a certain
insignificant person named François Sagon, a belated rhétoriqueur, who
found some other rhymers of the same kind to support him. One of Marot's
best things, an answer of which his servant, Fripelipes, is supposed to be the
spokesman, came of the quarrel; but of the other contributions, not merely
of the principals, but of their followers, the Marotiques and Sagontiques,
nothing survives in general memory, or deserves to survive. Of Marot's
disciples, one, Mellin de Saint Gelais, deserves separate mention, the others
may be despatched in passing. Victor Brodeau, who, like his master, held
places in the courts both of Marguerite and her brother, wrote not merely a
devotional work, Les Louanges de Jésus Christ notre Seigneur, which fairly
illustrates the devotional side of the Navarrese literary coterie, but also
epigrams and rondeaux of no small merit. Étienne Dolet, better known both
as a scholar and translator, and as the publisher of Marot and
(surreptitiously) of Rabelais, composed towards the end of his life poems in
French, the principal of which was taken in title and idea from Marot's
Enfer, and which, though very unequal, have passages of some poetical
power. Marguerite herself has left a considerable collection of poems of the
most diverse kind and merit, the title of which, Marguerites de la
Marguerite des Princesses[172], is perhaps not the worst thing about them.
Farces, mysteries, religious poems, such as Le Triomphe de l'Agneau, and
Le Miroir de l'Âme Pécheresse, with purely secular pieces on divers
subjects, make up these curious volumes. Not a few of the poems display
the same nobility of tone and stately sonorousness of verse, which has been
supposed to have been addressed to the Queen of Navarre, expresses
Marot's poetical powers as well as anything else, showing as it does grace
of language, tender and elegant sentiment, and suppleness, ease, and
fluency of style.
Marot formed a very considerable school, some of
whom directly imitated his mannerisms, and composed The School of
Marot.
blasons[171] and Coq-à-l'Âne in emulation of their
master and of each other, while others contented themselves with displaying
the same general characteristics, and setting the same poetical ideals before
them. Among the idlest, but busiest literary quarrels of the century, a
century fertile in such things, was that between Marot and a certain
insignificant person named François Sagon, a belated rhétoriqueur, who
found some other rhymers of the same kind to support him. One of Marot's
best things, an answer of which his servant, Fripelipes, is supposed to be the
spokesman, came of the quarrel; but of the other contributions, not merely
of the principals, but of their followers, the Marotiques and Sagontiques,
nothing survives in general memory, or deserves to survive. Of Marot's
disciples, one, Mellin de Saint Gelais, deserves separate mention, the others
may be despatched in passing. Victor Brodeau, who, like his master, held
places in the courts both of Marguerite and her brother, wrote not merely a
devotional work, Les Louanges de Jésus Christ notre Seigneur, which fairly
illustrates the devotional side of the Navarrese literary coterie, but also
epigrams and rondeaux of no small merit. Étienne Dolet, better known both
as a scholar and translator, and as the publisher of Marot and
(surreptitiously) of Rabelais, composed towards the end of his life poems in
French, the principal of which was taken in title and idea from Marot's
Enfer, and which, though very unequal, have passages of some poetical
power. Marguerite herself has left a considerable collection of poems of the
most diverse kind and merit, the title of which, Marguerites de la
Marguerite des Princesses[172], is perhaps not the worst thing about them.
Farces, mysteries, religious poems, such as Le Triomphe de l'Agneau, and
Le Miroir de l'Âme Pécheresse, with purely secular pieces on divers
subjects, make up these curious volumes. Not a few of the poems display
the same nobility of tone and stately sonorousness of verse, which has been
Page 214
and will be noticed as a characteristic of the serious poetry of the age, and
which reached its climax in Du Bartas, D'Aubigné, and the choruses of
Garnier and Montchrestien. Bonaventure des Périers, an admirable prose
writer, was a poet, though not a very strong one. François Habert, 'Le Banni
de Liesse,' must not be confounded with Philippe Habert, author of a
remarkable Temple de la Mort in the next century. Gilles Corrozet, author of
fables in verse, who, like many other literary men of the time, was a printer
and publisher as well, Jacques Gohorry, a pleasant song writer, Gilles
d'Aubigny, Jacques Pelletier, Étienne Forcadel, deserve at least to be
named. Of more importance were Hugues Salel, Charles Fontaine, Antoine
Héroet, Maurice Scève. All these were members of the Lyonnese literary
coterie, and in connection with this Louise Labé also comes in. Salel,
famous as the first French translator of the Iliad, or rather of Books I-XII
thereof, distinguished himself as a writer of blasons in imitation of Marot,
as well as by composing many small poems of the occasional kind. Charles
Fontaine exhibited the fancy of the time for conceits in the entitling of
books by denominating his poems Ruisseaux de la Fontaine, and was one
of the chief champions on Marot's side in the quarrel with Sagon, while he
afterwards defended the style Marotique against Du Bellay's announcement
of the programme of the Pléiade. But perhaps he would hardly deserve
much remembrance, save for a charming little poem to his new-born son,
which M. Asselineau has made accessible to everybody in Crepet's Poètes
Français[173]. He also figures in a literary tournament very characteristic of
the age. La Borderie, another disciple of Marot, had written a poem entitled
L'Amye de Cour, which defended libertinism, or at least worldly-
mindedness in love, in reply to the Parfaite Amye of Antoine Héroet, which
exhibits very well a certain aspect of the half-amorous, half-mystical
sentiment of the day. Fontaine rejoined in a Contr'Amye de Cour. Maurice
Scève is also a typical personage. He was, it may be said, the head of the
Lyonnese school, and was esteemed all over France. He was excepted by
the irreverent champions of the Pléiade from the general ridicule which they
poured on their predecessors, and was surrounded by a special body of
feminine devotees and followers, including his kinswomen Claudine and
Sibylle Scève, Jeanne Gaillarde, and above all Louise Labé. Scève's
poetical work is strongly tinged with classical affectation and Platonic
mysticism; and his chief poem, De l'Objet de la plus haute Vertu, consists
of some four hundred and fifty dizains written in what in England and later
which reached its climax in Du Bartas, D'Aubigné, and the choruses of
Garnier and Montchrestien. Bonaventure des Périers, an admirable prose
writer, was a poet, though not a very strong one. François Habert, 'Le Banni
de Liesse,' must not be confounded with Philippe Habert, author of a
remarkable Temple de la Mort in the next century. Gilles Corrozet, author of
fables in verse, who, like many other literary men of the time, was a printer
and publisher as well, Jacques Gohorry, a pleasant song writer, Gilles
d'Aubigny, Jacques Pelletier, Étienne Forcadel, deserve at least to be
named. Of more importance were Hugues Salel, Charles Fontaine, Antoine
Héroet, Maurice Scève. All these were members of the Lyonnese literary
coterie, and in connection with this Louise Labé also comes in. Salel,
famous as the first French translator of the Iliad, or rather of Books I-XII
thereof, distinguished himself as a writer of blasons in imitation of Marot,
as well as by composing many small poems of the occasional kind. Charles
Fontaine exhibited the fancy of the time for conceits in the entitling of
books by denominating his poems Ruisseaux de la Fontaine, and was one
of the chief champions on Marot's side in the quarrel with Sagon, while he
afterwards defended the style Marotique against Du Bellay's announcement
of the programme of the Pléiade. But perhaps he would hardly deserve
much remembrance, save for a charming little poem to his new-born son,
which M. Asselineau has made accessible to everybody in Crepet's Poètes
Français[173]. He also figures in a literary tournament very characteristic of
the age. La Borderie, another disciple of Marot, had written a poem entitled
L'Amye de Cour, which defended libertinism, or at least worldly-
mindedness in love, in reply to the Parfaite Amye of Antoine Héroet, which
exhibits very well a certain aspect of the half-amorous, half-mystical
sentiment of the day. Fontaine rejoined in a Contr'Amye de Cour. Maurice
Scève is also a typical personage. He was, it may be said, the head of the
Lyonnese school, and was esteemed all over France. He was excepted by
the irreverent champions of the Pléiade from the general ridicule which they
poured on their predecessors, and was surrounded by a special body of
feminine devotees and followers, including his kinswomen Claudine and
Sibylle Scève, Jeanne Gaillarde, and above all Louise Labé. Scève's
poetical work is strongly tinged with classical affectation and Platonic
mysticism; and his chief poem, De l'Objet de la plus haute Vertu, consists
of some four hundred and fifty dizains written in what in England and later
Page 215
has been, not very happily, called a metaphysical style. Last of all comes
the just-mentioned Louise Labé, 'La belle Cordière,' one of the chief
ornaments of Lyons, and the most important French poetess of the sixteenth
century. Louise was younger, and wrote later than most of the authors just
mentioned, and in some respects she belongs to the school of Ronsard, like
her supposed lover, Olivier de Magny. But the Lyons school was essentially
Marotique, and much of the style of the elder master is observable in the
writings of Louise[174]. She has left a prose Dialogue d'Amour et de Folie,
three elegies, and a certain number of sonnets. Her poems are perhaps the
most genuinely passionate of the time and country, and many of the sonnets
are extremely beautiful. The language is on the whole simple and elegant,
without the over-classicism of the Pléiade, or the obscurity of her master
Scève. Strangely enough the poems of this young Lyonnese lady have in
many places a singular approach to the ring of Shakespeare's sonnets and
minor works, and that not merely by virtue of the general resemblance
common to all the love poetry of the age, but in some very definite traits.
Her surname of 'La belle Cordière' came from her marriage with a rich
merchant, Ennemond Perrin by name, who was by trade a ropemaker. Her
poems have had their full share of the advantages of reprints, which have of
late years fallen to the lot of sixteenth-century authors in France.
Mellin de Saint Gelais[175], the last to be mentioned but
the most important of the school of Marot, has been very Mellin de St.
Gelais.
variously judged. The mere fact that he was probably the
introducer of the sonnet into France (the counter claim of Pontus de Tyard
seems to be unfounded) would suffice to give him a considerable position in
the history of letters. But Mellin's claims by no means rest upon this
achievement. He was a man of higher position than most of the other poets
of the time, being the reputed son of Octavien de Saint Gelais, and himself
enjoying a good deal of royal favour. In his old age, as the representative of
the school of Marot, he had to bear the brunt of the Pléiade onslaught, and
knew how to defend himself, so that a truce was made. He was born in
1487, and died in 1558. His name is also spelt Merlin, and even Melusin,
the Saint Gelais boasting descent from the Lusignans, and thus from the
famous fairy heroine Mélusine. In his youth he spent a good deal of time in
Italy, at the Universities of Bologna and Padua. On returning to France, he
was at once received into favour at court, and having taken orders, obtained
the just-mentioned Louise Labé, 'La belle Cordière,' one of the chief
ornaments of Lyons, and the most important French poetess of the sixteenth
century. Louise was younger, and wrote later than most of the authors just
mentioned, and in some respects she belongs to the school of Ronsard, like
her supposed lover, Olivier de Magny. But the Lyons school was essentially
Marotique, and much of the style of the elder master is observable in the
writings of Louise[174]. She has left a prose Dialogue d'Amour et de Folie,
three elegies, and a certain number of sonnets. Her poems are perhaps the
most genuinely passionate of the time and country, and many of the sonnets
are extremely beautiful. The language is on the whole simple and elegant,
without the over-classicism of the Pléiade, or the obscurity of her master
Scève. Strangely enough the poems of this young Lyonnese lady have in
many places a singular approach to the ring of Shakespeare's sonnets and
minor works, and that not merely by virtue of the general resemblance
common to all the love poetry of the age, but in some very definite traits.
Her surname of 'La belle Cordière' came from her marriage with a rich
merchant, Ennemond Perrin by name, who was by trade a ropemaker. Her
poems have had their full share of the advantages of reprints, which have of
late years fallen to the lot of sixteenth-century authors in France.
Mellin de Saint Gelais[175], the last to be mentioned but
the most important of the school of Marot, has been very Mellin de St.
Gelais.
variously judged. The mere fact that he was probably the
introducer of the sonnet into France (the counter claim of Pontus de Tyard
seems to be unfounded) would suffice to give him a considerable position in
the history of letters. But Mellin's claims by no means rest upon this
achievement. He was a man of higher position than most of the other poets
of the time, being the reputed son of Octavien de Saint Gelais, and himself
enjoying a good deal of royal favour. In his old age, as the representative of
the school of Marot, he had to bear the brunt of the Pléiade onslaught, and
knew how to defend himself, so that a truce was made. He was born in
1487, and died in 1558. His name is also spelt Merlin, and even Melusin,
the Saint Gelais boasting descent from the Lusignans, and thus from the
famous fairy heroine Mélusine. In his youth he spent a good deal of time in
Italy, at the Universities of Bologna and Padua. On returning to France, he
was at once received into favour at court, and having taken orders, obtained
Page 216
various benefices and appointments which assured his fortune. It is
remarkable that though he violently opposed Ronsard's rising favour at
court, both the Prince of Poets and Du Bellay completely forgave him, and
pay him very considerable compliments, the latter praising his 'vers
emmiellés,' the former speaking, even after his death, of his proficiency in
the combined arts of music and poetry. Saint Gelais was a good musician,
and an affecting story is told of his swan-song, for which, as for other
anecdotes, there is no space here. His work, though not inconsiderable in
volume, is, even more than that of Marot and other poets of the time and
school, composed for the most part of very short pieces, epigrams,
rondeaux, dizains, huitains, etc. These pieces display more merit than most
recent critics have been disposed to allow to them. The style is fluent and
graceful, free from puns and other faults of taste common at the time. The
epigrams are frequently pointed, and well expressed, and the
complimentary verse is often skilful and well turned. Mellin de Saint Gelais
is certainly not a poet of the highest order, but as a court singer and a skilful
master of language he deserves a place among his earlier contemporaries
only second to that of Marot.
Something of the same sort may be said of all the writers
in verse of the first half of the century. Their importance Miscellaneous
Verse. Anciennes
is chiefly relative. Few of their works are conceived or Poésies Françaises.
executed on a scale sufficient to entitle them to the rank
of great poets, and, saving always Marot, the excellence even of the trifling
compositions to which they confined themselves is very unequal and
intermittent. But all are evidences of a general diffusion of the literary spirit
among the people of France, and most of them in their way, and according
to their powers, helped in perfecting the character of French as a literary
instrument. The advance which the language experienced in this respect is
perhaps nowhere better shown than in the miscellaneous and popular poetry
of the time, a vast collection of which has been made accessible by the
reprinting of rare or unique printed originals in the thirteen volumes of MM.
de Montaiglon and de Rothschild's Anciennes Poésies Françaises,
published in the Bibliothèque Elzévirienne[176]. This flying literature, as it is
well called in French, lacks in most cases the freshness and spontaneity of
mediaeval folk-song. But it has in exchange gained in point of subject a
wide extension of range, and in point of form a considerable advance in
remarkable that though he violently opposed Ronsard's rising favour at
court, both the Prince of Poets and Du Bellay completely forgave him, and
pay him very considerable compliments, the latter praising his 'vers
emmiellés,' the former speaking, even after his death, of his proficiency in
the combined arts of music and poetry. Saint Gelais was a good musician,
and an affecting story is told of his swan-song, for which, as for other
anecdotes, there is no space here. His work, though not inconsiderable in
volume, is, even more than that of Marot and other poets of the time and
school, composed for the most part of very short pieces, epigrams,
rondeaux, dizains, huitains, etc. These pieces display more merit than most
recent critics have been disposed to allow to them. The style is fluent and
graceful, free from puns and other faults of taste common at the time. The
epigrams are frequently pointed, and well expressed, and the
complimentary verse is often skilful and well turned. Mellin de Saint Gelais
is certainly not a poet of the highest order, but as a court singer and a skilful
master of language he deserves a place among his earlier contemporaries
only second to that of Marot.
Something of the same sort may be said of all the writers
in verse of the first half of the century. Their importance Miscellaneous
Verse. Anciennes
is chiefly relative. Few of their works are conceived or Poésies Françaises.
executed on a scale sufficient to entitle them to the rank
of great poets, and, saving always Marot, the excellence even of the trifling
compositions to which they confined themselves is very unequal and
intermittent. But all are evidences of a general diffusion of the literary spirit
among the people of France, and most of them in their way, and according
to their powers, helped in perfecting the character of French as a literary
instrument. The advance which the language experienced in this respect is
perhaps nowhere better shown than in the miscellaneous and popular poetry
of the time, a vast collection of which has been made accessible by the
reprinting of rare or unique printed originals in the thirteen volumes of MM.
de Montaiglon and de Rothschild's Anciennes Poésies Françaises,
published in the Bibliothèque Elzévirienne[176]. This flying literature, as it is
well called in French, lacks in most cases the freshness and spontaneity of
mediaeval folk-song. But it has in exchange gained in point of subject a
wide extension of range, and in point of form a considerable advance in
Page 217
elegance of language, absence of commonplace, and perfection of literary
form and style. The stiffness which characterises much mediaeval and
almost all fifteenth-century work has disappeared in great measure. The
writers speak directly and to the point, and find no difficulty in so using
their mother tongue as to express their intentions. The tools in short are
more effective and more completely under the control of the worker. A
certain triviality is indeed noticeable, and the tendency of the middle ages to
perpetuate favourite forms and models is by no means got rid of. But much
that was useless has been discarded, and of what is left a defter and more
distinctly literary use is made. Had French remained as Marot left it, it
would indeed have been unequal to the expression of the noblest thoughts,
the gravest subjects, to the treatment and exposition of intricate and
complicated problems of life and mind. But in his hands it attained perhaps
the perfection of usefulness as an exponent of the pure esprit gaulois, to use
a phrase which has been tediously abused by French writers, but which is
expressive of a real fact in French history and French literature. It had been
suppled and pointed: it remained for it to be weighted, strengthened, and
enriched. This was not the appointed task of Marot and his contemporaries,
but of the men who came after them. But what they themselves had to do
they did, and did it well. To this day the lighter verse of France is more an
echo of Clément Marot than of any other man who lived before the
seventeenth century, and, with the exception of his greater follower, La
Fontaine, of any man who came after him at any time[177].
FOOTNOTES:
[165] De Belges, though the less usual, is the more accurate form. We are at
length promised a complete edition of him in the admirable series of the Belgian
Academy, one of the best in appearance and editing, and by far the cheapest of
all such series. He was born in 1475, held posts in the household of the
Governors of the Netherlands, was historiographer to Louis XII., and died either
in 1524 or in 1548.
[166] See Poètes Français, i. 532. It is perhaps well to say that M. C.
d'Héricault, though a very agreeable as well as a very learned writer, is
particularly open to the charge that his geese are swans.
[167] Ed. C. d'Héricault. Paris, 1855.
[168] See Poètes Français, vol. i. ad fin., for the poets mentioned in this
paragraph and others of their kind.
form and style. The stiffness which characterises much mediaeval and
almost all fifteenth-century work has disappeared in great measure. The
writers speak directly and to the point, and find no difficulty in so using
their mother tongue as to express their intentions. The tools in short are
more effective and more completely under the control of the worker. A
certain triviality is indeed noticeable, and the tendency of the middle ages to
perpetuate favourite forms and models is by no means got rid of. But much
that was useless has been discarded, and of what is left a defter and more
distinctly literary use is made. Had French remained as Marot left it, it
would indeed have been unequal to the expression of the noblest thoughts,
the gravest subjects, to the treatment and exposition of intricate and
complicated problems of life and mind. But in his hands it attained perhaps
the perfection of usefulness as an exponent of the pure esprit gaulois, to use
a phrase which has been tediously abused by French writers, but which is
expressive of a real fact in French history and French literature. It had been
suppled and pointed: it remained for it to be weighted, strengthened, and
enriched. This was not the appointed task of Marot and his contemporaries,
but of the men who came after them. But what they themselves had to do
they did, and did it well. To this day the lighter verse of France is more an
echo of Clément Marot than of any other man who lived before the
seventeenth century, and, with the exception of his greater follower, La
Fontaine, of any man who came after him at any time[177].
FOOTNOTES:
[165] De Belges, though the less usual, is the more accurate form. We are at
length promised a complete edition of him in the admirable series of the Belgian
Academy, one of the best in appearance and editing, and by far the cheapest of
all such series. He was born in 1475, held posts in the household of the
Governors of the Netherlands, was historiographer to Louis XII., and died either
in 1524 or in 1548.
[166] See Poètes Français, i. 532. It is perhaps well to say that M. C.
d'Héricault, though a very agreeable as well as a very learned writer, is
particularly open to the charge that his geese are swans.
[167] Ed. C. d'Héricault. Paris, 1855.
[168] See Poètes Français, vol. i. ad fin., for the poets mentioned in this
paragraph and others of their kind.
Page 218
[169] He was in his old age conspicuous among the enemies of Étienne Dolet.
See Étienne Dolet, by R. C. Christie. London, 1880.
[170] Ed Jannet et C. d'Héricault. 4 vols. Paris, 2nd ed. 1873. M. d'Héricault has
prefixed a much larger study of Marot than is to be found here to his edition of
the 'beauties' of the poet, published by Messrs. Garnier. The late M. Guiffrey
published two volumes of a costly and splendid edition, which his death
interrupted.
[171] The blason (description) was a child of the mediaeval dit. Marot's
examples, Le beau Tétin and Le laid Tétin, were copied ad infinitum. The first is
panegyric, the second abuse.
[172] Ed. Frank. 4 vols. Paris, 1873-4.
[173] i. 651.
[174] Ed. Tross. Paris, 1871.
[175] Ed. Blanchemain, 3 vols. Paris, 1873.
[176] This great collection, which awaits its completion of glossary, etc., was
published between 1855 and 1878, and is invaluable to any one desiring to
appreciate the general characteristics of the poetical literature of the time.
[177] Much help has been received in the writing of this chapter, and indeed of
this book, from the excellent work of MM. Hatzfeld and Darmesteter, Le
Seizième Siècle en France (Paris, 1878), one of the best histories extant in a
small compass of a brief but important period of literature. We may hope for a
still more elaborate study of the same subject in English from Mr. Arthur Tilley,
of King's College, Cambridge. An introductory volume to this study appeared in
1885.
See Étienne Dolet, by R. C. Christie. London, 1880.
[170] Ed Jannet et C. d'Héricault. 4 vols. Paris, 2nd ed. 1873. M. d'Héricault has
prefixed a much larger study of Marot than is to be found here to his edition of
the 'beauties' of the poet, published by Messrs. Garnier. The late M. Guiffrey
published two volumes of a costly and splendid edition, which his death
interrupted.
[171] The blason (description) was a child of the mediaeval dit. Marot's
examples, Le beau Tétin and Le laid Tétin, were copied ad infinitum. The first is
panegyric, the second abuse.
[172] Ed. Frank. 4 vols. Paris, 1873-4.
[173] i. 651.
[174] Ed. Tross. Paris, 1871.
[175] Ed. Blanchemain, 3 vols. Paris, 1873.
[176] This great collection, which awaits its completion of glossary, etc., was
published between 1855 and 1878, and is invaluable to any one desiring to
appreciate the general characteristics of the poetical literature of the time.
[177] Much help has been received in the writing of this chapter, and indeed of
this book, from the excellent work of MM. Hatzfeld and Darmesteter, Le
Seizième Siècle en France (Paris, 1878), one of the best histories extant in a
small compass of a brief but important period of literature. We may hope for a
still more elaborate study of the same subject in English from Mr. Arthur Tilley,
of King's College, Cambridge. An introductory volume to this study appeared in
1885.
Page 219
CHAPTER III.
RABELAIS AND HIS FOLLOWERS.
At the beginning of the sixteenth century prose fiction in
France was represented by a considerable mass of Fiction at the
beginning of the
literature divided sharply into two separate classes of Sixteenth Century.
very different nature and value. On the one hand the
prose versions of the Chansons de Gestes and the romances, Arthurian and
adventurous, which had succeeded the last and most extensive verse
rehandlings of these works in the fourteenth century, made up a
considerable body of work, rarely possessing much literary merit, and
characterised by all the faults of monotony, repetition, and absence of
truthful character-drawing which distinguish late mediaeval work. On the
other hand, there was a smaller body of short prose tales[178] sometimes
serious in character and of not inconsiderable antiquity, more frequently
comic and satirical, and corresponding in prose to the Fabliaux in verse. It
has been pointed out that in the hands, real or supposed, of Antoine de la
Salle this latter kind of work had attained a high standard of perfection. But
it was as yet extremely limited in style, scope, and subject. Valour, courtesy,
and love made up the list of subjects of the serious work, and the stock
materials for satire, women, marriage, priests, etc., that of the comic.
Although we have some lively presentment of the actual manners of the
time in Antoine de la Salle, it is accidental only, and of its thoughts on any
but the stock subjects we have nothing. There was thus room for a vast
improvement, or rather for a complete revolution, in this particular class of
work, and this revolution was at a comparatively early period of the new
century effected by the greatest man and the greatest book of the French
Renaissance.
François Rabelais[179] was born at Chinon about 1495
(the alternative date of 1483 which used to be given is Rabelais.
improbable if not impossible), and at an early age was
destined to the cloister. He not only became a full monk, but also took
RABELAIS AND HIS FOLLOWERS.
At the beginning of the sixteenth century prose fiction in
France was represented by a considerable mass of Fiction at the
beginning of the
literature divided sharply into two separate classes of Sixteenth Century.
very different nature and value. On the one hand the
prose versions of the Chansons de Gestes and the romances, Arthurian and
adventurous, which had succeeded the last and most extensive verse
rehandlings of these works in the fourteenth century, made up a
considerable body of work, rarely possessing much literary merit, and
characterised by all the faults of monotony, repetition, and absence of
truthful character-drawing which distinguish late mediaeval work. On the
other hand, there was a smaller body of short prose tales[178] sometimes
serious in character and of not inconsiderable antiquity, more frequently
comic and satirical, and corresponding in prose to the Fabliaux in verse. It
has been pointed out that in the hands, real or supposed, of Antoine de la
Salle this latter kind of work had attained a high standard of perfection. But
it was as yet extremely limited in style, scope, and subject. Valour, courtesy,
and love made up the list of subjects of the serious work, and the stock
materials for satire, women, marriage, priests, etc., that of the comic.
Although we have some lively presentment of the actual manners of the
time in Antoine de la Salle, it is accidental only, and of its thoughts on any
but the stock subjects we have nothing. There was thus room for a vast
improvement, or rather for a complete revolution, in this particular class of
work, and this revolution was at a comparatively early period of the new
century effected by the greatest man and the greatest book of the French
Renaissance.
François Rabelais[179] was born at Chinon about 1495
(the alternative date of 1483 which used to be given is Rabelais.
improbable if not impossible), and at an early age was
destined to the cloister. He not only became a full monk, but also took
Page 220
priest's orders. Before he was thirty he acquired the reputation of a good
classical scholar, and this seems to have brought him into trouble with his
brethren the Cordeliers or Franciscans, who were at this time among the
least cultivated of the monastic orders. With the consent of the Pope he
migrated to a Benedictine convent, and became canon at Maillezais. This
migration, however, did not satisfy him, and before long he quitted his new
convent without permission and took to the life of a wandering scholar. The
tolerance of the first period of the Renaissance however still existed in
France, and he suffered no inconvenience from this breach of rule. After
studying medicine and natural science under the protection of Geoffrey
d'Estissac, Bishop of Maillezais, he went to Montpellier to continue these
studies, and in the early years of the fourth decade of the century practised
regularly at Lyons. He was attached to the suite of Cardinal du Bellay in
two embassies to Rome, returned to Montpellier, took his doctor's degree,
and again practised in several cities of the South. Towards 1539 Du Bellay
again established him in a convent, probably as a safeguard against the
persecution which was then threatening. But the conventual life as then
practised was too repugnant to Rabelais to be long endured, and he once
more set out on his travels, this time in Savoy and Italy, the personal
protection of the king guaranteeing him from danger. He then returned to
France, taking however the precaution to soften some expressions in his
books. At the death of Francis he retired first to Metz, and then to Rome,
still with Du Bellay. The Cardinal de Chatillon, soon after gave him the
living of Meudon, which he held with another in Maine for a year or two,
resigning them both in 1551, and dying in 1553. Such at least are the most
probable and best ascertained dates and events in a life which has been
overlaid with a good deal of fiction, and many of the facts of which are
decidedly obscure. Rabelais did not very early become an author, and his
first works were of a purely erudite kind. During his stay at Lyons he seems
to have done a good deal of work for the printers, as editor and reader,
especially in reference to medical works, such as Galen and Hippocrates.
He edited too, and perhaps in part re-wrote, a prose romance, Les Grandes
et Inestimables Chroniques du Grant et Énorme Géant Gargantua. This
work, the author of which is unknown, and no earlier copies of which exist,
gave him no doubt at least the idea of his own famous book. The next year
(1532) followed the first instalment of this—Pantagruel Roi des Dipsodes
Restitué en Son naturel avec ses Faicts et Proueses Espouvantables. Three
classical scholar, and this seems to have brought him into trouble with his
brethren the Cordeliers or Franciscans, who were at this time among the
least cultivated of the monastic orders. With the consent of the Pope he
migrated to a Benedictine convent, and became canon at Maillezais. This
migration, however, did not satisfy him, and before long he quitted his new
convent without permission and took to the life of a wandering scholar. The
tolerance of the first period of the Renaissance however still existed in
France, and he suffered no inconvenience from this breach of rule. After
studying medicine and natural science under the protection of Geoffrey
d'Estissac, Bishop of Maillezais, he went to Montpellier to continue these
studies, and in the early years of the fourth decade of the century practised
regularly at Lyons. He was attached to the suite of Cardinal du Bellay in
two embassies to Rome, returned to Montpellier, took his doctor's degree,
and again practised in several cities of the South. Towards 1539 Du Bellay
again established him in a convent, probably as a safeguard against the
persecution which was then threatening. But the conventual life as then
practised was too repugnant to Rabelais to be long endured, and he once
more set out on his travels, this time in Savoy and Italy, the personal
protection of the king guaranteeing him from danger. He then returned to
France, taking however the precaution to soften some expressions in his
books. At the death of Francis he retired first to Metz, and then to Rome,
still with Du Bellay. The Cardinal de Chatillon, soon after gave him the
living of Meudon, which he held with another in Maine for a year or two,
resigning them both in 1551, and dying in 1553. Such at least are the most
probable and best ascertained dates and events in a life which has been
overlaid with a good deal of fiction, and many of the facts of which are
decidedly obscure. Rabelais did not very early become an author, and his
first works were of a purely erudite kind. During his stay at Lyons he seems
to have done a good deal of work for the printers, as editor and reader,
especially in reference to medical works, such as Galen and Hippocrates.
He edited too, and perhaps in part re-wrote, a prose romance, Les Grandes
et Inestimables Chroniques du Grant et Énorme Géant Gargantua. This
work, the author of which is unknown, and no earlier copies of which exist,
gave him no doubt at least the idea of his own famous book. The next year
(1532) followed the first instalment of this—Pantagruel Roi des Dipsodes
Restitué en Son naturel avec ses Faicts et Proueses Espouvantables. Three
Page 221
years afterwards came Gargantua proper, the first book of the entire work
as we now have it. Eleven years however passed before the work was
continued, the second book of Pantagruel not being published till 1546, and
the third six years later, just before the author's death, in 1552. The fourth or
last book did not appear as a whole until 1564, though the first sixteen
chapters had been given to the world two years before. This fourth book,
the fifth of the entire work, has, from the length of time which elapsed
before its publication and from certain variations which exist in the MS. and
the first printed editions, been suspected of spuriousness. Such a question
cannot be debated here at length. But there is no external testimony of
sufficient value to discredit Rabelais' authorship, while the internal
testimony in its favour is overwhelming[180]. It may be said, without
hesitation, that not a single writer capable of having written it, save
Rabelais himself, is known to literary history at the time. It has been
supposed, with a good deal of probability, that the book was left in the
rough. The considerable periods which, as has been mentioned, intervened
between the publications of the other books seem to show that the author
indulged a good deal in revision; and, as the third book was only published
just before his death, he could have had little time for this in the case of the
fourth. This would account for a certain appearance of greater boldness and
directness in the satire as well as for occasional various readings. In genius
both of thought and expression this book is perhaps superior to any other;
and, if it were decided that Rabelais did not write it, much of what are now
considered the Rabelaisian characteristics must be transferred to an entirely
unknown writer who has left not the smallest vestige of himself or his
genius. It is not possible to give here a detailed abstract of Gargantua and
Pantagruel: indeed, from the studied desultoriness of the work, any such
abstract must of necessity be nearly as long as the book itself[181]. It is
sufficient to say that both Gargantua and his son Pantagruel are the heroes
of adventures, designedly exaggerated and burlesqued from those common
in the romances of chivalry. The chief events of the earlier romance are,
first, the war between Grandgousier, Gargantua's father, the pattern of easy-
going royalty, and Picrochole, king of Lerne, the ideal of an arbitrary despot
intent only on conquest; and, secondly, the founding of the Abbey of
Thelema, a fanciful institution, in which Rabelais propounds as first
principles everything that is most opposed to the forced abstinence, the real
self-indulgence, the idleness and the ignorance of the debased monastic
as we now have it. Eleven years however passed before the work was
continued, the second book of Pantagruel not being published till 1546, and
the third six years later, just before the author's death, in 1552. The fourth or
last book did not appear as a whole until 1564, though the first sixteen
chapters had been given to the world two years before. This fourth book,
the fifth of the entire work, has, from the length of time which elapsed
before its publication and from certain variations which exist in the MS. and
the first printed editions, been suspected of spuriousness. Such a question
cannot be debated here at length. But there is no external testimony of
sufficient value to discredit Rabelais' authorship, while the internal
testimony in its favour is overwhelming[180]. It may be said, without
hesitation, that not a single writer capable of having written it, save
Rabelais himself, is known to literary history at the time. It has been
supposed, with a good deal of probability, that the book was left in the
rough. The considerable periods which, as has been mentioned, intervened
between the publications of the other books seem to show that the author
indulged a good deal in revision; and, as the third book was only published
just before his death, he could have had little time for this in the case of the
fourth. This would account for a certain appearance of greater boldness and
directness in the satire as well as for occasional various readings. In genius
both of thought and expression this book is perhaps superior to any other;
and, if it were decided that Rabelais did not write it, much of what are now
considered the Rabelaisian characteristics must be transferred to an entirely
unknown writer who has left not the smallest vestige of himself or his
genius. It is not possible to give here a detailed abstract of Gargantua and
Pantagruel: indeed, from the studied desultoriness of the work, any such
abstract must of necessity be nearly as long as the book itself[181]. It is
sufficient to say that both Gargantua and his son Pantagruel are the heroes
of adventures, designedly exaggerated and burlesqued from those common
in the romances of chivalry. The chief events of the earlier romance are,
first, the war between Grandgousier, Gargantua's father, the pattern of easy-
going royalty, and Picrochole, king of Lerne, the ideal of an arbitrary despot
intent only on conquest; and, secondly, the founding of the Abbey of
Thelema, a fanciful institution, in which Rabelais propounds as first
principles everything that is most opposed to the forced abstinence, the real
self-indulgence, the idleness and the ignorance of the debased monastic
Page 222
communities he knew so well and hated so much. Pantagruel is Gargantua's
son, and, like him, a giant, but the extravagances derived from his
gianthood are not kept up in the second part as they are in the first. A very
important personage in Pantagruel is Panurge, a singular companion, whom
Pantagruel picks up at Paris, and who is perhaps the greatest single creation
of Rabelais. Some ideas may have been taken for him from the Cingar of
Merlinus Coccaius, or Folengo, a Macaronic Italian poet[182], but on the
whole he is original, and is hardly comparable to any one else in literature
except Falstaff. The main idea of Panurge is the absence of morality in the
wide Aristotelian sense with the presence of almost all other good qualities.
After a time, in which Pantagruel and his companions (among whom, as in
the former romance, Friar John is the embodiment of hearty and healthy
animalism, as Panurge is of a somewhat diseased intellectual refinement)
are engaged in wars of the old romance kind, a whim of Panurge determines
the conclusion of the story. He desires to get married; and an entire book is
occupied by the various devices to which he resorts in order to determine
whether it is wise or not for him to do so. At last it is decided that a voyage
must be made to the oracle of the Dive Bouteille. The last two books are
occupied with this voyage, in which many strange countries are visited, and
at last, the oracle being reached, the word Trinq is vouchsafed, not only, it
would seem, to solve Panurge's doubts, but also as a general answer to the
riddle of the painful earth.
Besides his great work, Rabelais was the author of a few extant letters, and
probably of a good many that are not extant, of a little burlesque almanack
called the Pantagrueline Prognostication, which is full of his peculiar
humour, of a short work entitled Sciomachie, describing a festival at Rome,
and of a few poems of no great merit. In Gargantua and Pantagruel,
however, his whole literary interest and character are concentrated. Few
books have been the subject of greater controversy as to their meaning and
general intention. The author, as if on purpose to baffle investigation, mixes
up real persons mentioned by their real names, real persons mentioned in
transparent allegory, and entirely fictitious characters, in the most
inextricable way. Occasionally, as in his chapters on education, he is
perfectly serious, and allows no touch of humour or satire to escape him.
Elsewhere he indulges in the wildest buffoonery. Two of the most notable
characteristics of Rabelais are, first, his extraordinary predilection for
son, and, like him, a giant, but the extravagances derived from his
gianthood are not kept up in the second part as they are in the first. A very
important personage in Pantagruel is Panurge, a singular companion, whom
Pantagruel picks up at Paris, and who is perhaps the greatest single creation
of Rabelais. Some ideas may have been taken for him from the Cingar of
Merlinus Coccaius, or Folengo, a Macaronic Italian poet[182], but on the
whole he is original, and is hardly comparable to any one else in literature
except Falstaff. The main idea of Panurge is the absence of morality in the
wide Aristotelian sense with the presence of almost all other good qualities.
After a time, in which Pantagruel and his companions (among whom, as in
the former romance, Friar John is the embodiment of hearty and healthy
animalism, as Panurge is of a somewhat diseased intellectual refinement)
are engaged in wars of the old romance kind, a whim of Panurge determines
the conclusion of the story. He desires to get married; and an entire book is
occupied by the various devices to which he resorts in order to determine
whether it is wise or not for him to do so. At last it is decided that a voyage
must be made to the oracle of the Dive Bouteille. The last two books are
occupied with this voyage, in which many strange countries are visited, and
at last, the oracle being reached, the word Trinq is vouchsafed, not only, it
would seem, to solve Panurge's doubts, but also as a general answer to the
riddle of the painful earth.
Besides his great work, Rabelais was the author of a few extant letters, and
probably of a good many that are not extant, of a little burlesque almanack
called the Pantagrueline Prognostication, which is full of his peculiar
humour, of a short work entitled Sciomachie, describing a festival at Rome,
and of a few poems of no great merit. In Gargantua and Pantagruel,
however, his whole literary interest and character are concentrated. Few
books have been the subject of greater controversy as to their meaning and
general intention. The author, as if on purpose to baffle investigation, mixes
up real persons mentioned by their real names, real persons mentioned in
transparent allegory, and entirely fictitious characters, in the most
inextricable way. Occasionally, as in his chapters on education, he is
perfectly serious, and allows no touch of humour or satire to escape him.
Elsewhere he indulges in the wildest buffoonery. Two of the most notable
characteristics of Rabelais are, first, his extraordinary predilection for
Page 223
heaping up piles of synonymous words, and huge lists of things; secondly,
his habit of indulging in the coarsest allusions and descriptions. Both of
these were to some extent mere exaggerations of his mediaeval models, but
both show the peculiar characteristics of their author. The book as a whole
has received the most various explanations as well as the most various
appreciations. It has been regarded as in the main a political and personal
satire, in every incident and character of which some reference must be
sought to actual personages and events of the time; as an elaborate
pamphlet against the Roman Catholic Church; as a defence of mere
epicurean materialism, and even an attack on Christianity itself; as a huge
piece of mischief intended to delude readers into the belief that something
serious is meant, when in reality nothing of the kind is intended. Even more
fantastic explanations than these have been attempted; such, for instance, as
the idea that the voyage of Pantagruel is an allegorical account of the
processes employed in the manufacture of wine. The true explanation, as far
as there is any, of the book seems, however, to be not very difficult to make
out, provided that the interpreter does not endeavour to force a meaning
where there very probably is none. The form of it was pretty well prescribed
by the old romances of adventure, and must be taken as given to Rabelais,
not as invented by him for a special purpose; a war, a quest, these are the
subjects of every story in verse and prose for five centuries, and Rabelais
followed the stream. But when he had thus got his main theme settled, he
gave the widest licence of comment, allusion, digression, and adaptation to
his own fancy and his own intellect. Both of these were typical, and, except
for a certain deficiency in the poetical element, fully typical of the time.
Rabelais was a very learned man, a man of the world, a man of pleasure, a
man of obvious interest in political and ecclesiastical problems. He was
animated by that lively appetite for enjoyment, business, study, all the
occupations of life, which characterised the Renaissance in its earlier
stages, in all countries and especially in France. Nor had science of any
kind yet been divided and subdivided so that each man could only aspire to
handle certain portions of it. Accordingly, Rabelais is prodigal of learning in
season and out of season. But independently of all this, he had an immense
humour, and this pervades the whole book, turning the preposterous
adventures into satirical allegories or half allegories, irradiating the
somewhat miscellaneous erudition with lambent light, and making the
whole alive and fresh to this day. The extreme coarseness of language,
his habit of indulging in the coarsest allusions and descriptions. Both of
these were to some extent mere exaggerations of his mediaeval models, but
both show the peculiar characteristics of their author. The book as a whole
has received the most various explanations as well as the most various
appreciations. It has been regarded as in the main a political and personal
satire, in every incident and character of which some reference must be
sought to actual personages and events of the time; as an elaborate
pamphlet against the Roman Catholic Church; as a defence of mere
epicurean materialism, and even an attack on Christianity itself; as a huge
piece of mischief intended to delude readers into the belief that something
serious is meant, when in reality nothing of the kind is intended. Even more
fantastic explanations than these have been attempted; such, for instance, as
the idea that the voyage of Pantagruel is an allegorical account of the
processes employed in the manufacture of wine. The true explanation, as far
as there is any, of the book seems, however, to be not very difficult to make
out, provided that the interpreter does not endeavour to force a meaning
where there very probably is none. The form of it was pretty well prescribed
by the old romances of adventure, and must be taken as given to Rabelais,
not as invented by him for a special purpose; a war, a quest, these are the
subjects of every story in verse and prose for five centuries, and Rabelais
followed the stream. But when he had thus got his main theme settled, he
gave the widest licence of comment, allusion, digression, and adaptation to
his own fancy and his own intellect. Both of these were typical, and, except
for a certain deficiency in the poetical element, fully typical of the time.
Rabelais was a very learned man, a man of the world, a man of pleasure, a
man of obvious interest in political and ecclesiastical problems. He was
animated by that lively appetite for enjoyment, business, study, all the
occupations of life, which characterised the Renaissance in its earlier
stages, in all countries and especially in France. Nor had science of any
kind yet been divided and subdivided so that each man could only aspire to
handle certain portions of it. Accordingly, Rabelais is prodigal of learning in
season and out of season. But independently of all this, he had an immense
humour, and this pervades the whole book, turning the preposterous
adventures into satirical allegories or half allegories, irradiating the
somewhat miscellaneous erudition with lambent light, and making the
whole alive and fresh to this day. The extreme coarseness of language,
Page 224
which makes Rabelais difficult to read now-a-days, seems to have arisen
from a variety of causes. The essence of his book was exaggeration, and he
exaggerated in this as in other matters. His keen appetite for the ludicrous,
and a kind of shamelessness which may have been partly due to individual
peculiarity, but had not a little also to do with his education and studies,
inclined him to make free with a department of thought where ludicrous
ideas are, as it has been said, to be had for the picking up by those whom
shame does not trouble at the expense of those whom it does. But besides
all this, there was in Rabelais a knowledge of human nature, and a faculty
of expressing that knowledge in literary form, in which he is inferior to
Shakespeare alone. Caricatured as his types purposely are, they are all
easily reducible to natural dimensions and properties; while occasionally,
though all too rarely, the author drops his mask and speaks gravely,
seriously, and then always wisely. These latter passages are, it may be
added, unsurpassed in mere prose style for many long years after the
author's death.
Altogether, independently of the intrinsic interest of Rabelais' work, we go
to him as we can go to only some score or half score of the greatest writers
of the world, for a complete reflection of the sentiment and character of his
time. As with all great writers, what he shows is in great part characteristic
of humanity at all times and in all places, but, as also with all great writers
except Shakespeare, more of it is local and temporary merely. This local
and temporary element gives him his great historical importance. Rabelais
is the literary exponent of the earlier Renaissance, with its appetite for the
good things of the world as yet unblunted. Yet even in him there is a
foretaste of satiety, and the Oracle of the Bottle has something, for all its
joyousness, of the conclusion of the Preacher.
The popularity of Rabelais was immense, and of itself sufficed to protect
him against the enmity which his hardly veiled attacks on monachism, and
on other fungoid growths of the Church, could not have failed to attract. In
such a case imitation was certain, and, long before the genuine series of the
Pantagrueline Chronicles was completed, spurious supplements and
continuations appeared, all of them without exception worthless. A more
legitimate imitation coloured the work of many of the fiction writers of the
remaining part of the century, though the tradition of short story writing, on
the model of the Fabliaux and of the Italian tales borrowed from them,
from a variety of causes. The essence of his book was exaggeration, and he
exaggerated in this as in other matters. His keen appetite for the ludicrous,
and a kind of shamelessness which may have been partly due to individual
peculiarity, but had not a little also to do with his education and studies,
inclined him to make free with a department of thought where ludicrous
ideas are, as it has been said, to be had for the picking up by those whom
shame does not trouble at the expense of those whom it does. But besides
all this, there was in Rabelais a knowledge of human nature, and a faculty
of expressing that knowledge in literary form, in which he is inferior to
Shakespeare alone. Caricatured as his types purposely are, they are all
easily reducible to natural dimensions and properties; while occasionally,
though all too rarely, the author drops his mask and speaks gravely,
seriously, and then always wisely. These latter passages are, it may be
added, unsurpassed in mere prose style for many long years after the
author's death.
Altogether, independently of the intrinsic interest of Rabelais' work, we go
to him as we can go to only some score or half score of the greatest writers
of the world, for a complete reflection of the sentiment and character of his
time. As with all great writers, what he shows is in great part characteristic
of humanity at all times and in all places, but, as also with all great writers
except Shakespeare, more of it is local and temporary merely. This local
and temporary element gives him his great historical importance. Rabelais
is the literary exponent of the earlier Renaissance, with its appetite for the
good things of the world as yet unblunted. Yet even in him there is a
foretaste of satiety, and the Oracle of the Bottle has something, for all its
joyousness, of the conclusion of the Preacher.
The popularity of Rabelais was immense, and of itself sufficed to protect
him against the enmity which his hardly veiled attacks on monachism, and
on other fungoid growths of the Church, could not have failed to attract. In
such a case imitation was certain, and, long before the genuine series of the
Pantagrueline Chronicles was completed, spurious supplements and
continuations appeared, all of them without exception worthless. A more
legitimate imitation coloured the work of many of the fiction writers of the
remaining part of the century, though the tradition of short story writing, on
the model of the Fabliaux and of the Italian tales borrowed from them,
Page 225
continued and was only indirectly affected by Rabelais. In this latter class
one mediocre writer and two of the greatest talent—of talent amounting
almost to genius—have to be noticed. In 1535, Nicholas of Troyes, a
saddler by trade, produced a book entitled Grand Parangon de Nouvelles
Nouvelles, in which he followed rather, as his title indicates, the Cent
Nouvelles Nouvelles than any other model. His sources seem to have been
the Decameron and the Gesta Romanorum principally, though some of his
tales are original. Very different books are the Contes of Marguerite de
Navarre, usually termed the 'Heptameron,' and the Contes et Joyeux Devis
of her servant Bonaventure des Périers. Neither of these books was
published till a considerable period after the death, not merely of Rabelais,
but of their authors.
There are few persons of the time of whom less is
known than of Bonaventure des Périers[183], and, by no Bonaventure des
Périers.
means in consequence merely of this mystery, there are
few more interesting. He must have been born somewhere about the
beginning of the sixteenth century, and his friend Dolet calls him Aeduum
poetam, which would seem to fix his birth somewhere in the neighbourhood
at least of Autun. He was undoubtedly one of the literary courtiers of
Marguerite d'Angoulême. Finally, it seems that in the persecution which,
during the later years of Francis I.'s reign, came upon the Protestants and
freethinkers, and which the influence of Marguerite was powerless to
prevent, he committed suicide to escape the clutches of the law. Henri
Estienne, however, attributes the act to insanity or delirium. However this
may be, there is no doubt that Des Périers was a remarkable example of a
humanist. He was certainly a good scholar, and he was also a decided
freethinker. He has left poems of some merit, but not great perhaps, some
translations and minor prose pieces, but certainly two works of the highest
interest, the Cymbalum Mundi (1537) and the Nouvelles Récréations et
Joyeux Devis (1558). The Cymbalum Mundi betrays the influence of
Lucian, which was also very strong on Rabelais. It is a work in dialogue,
satirising the superstitions of antiquity with a hardly dubious reference to
the religious beliefs of Des Périers' own day. The Nouvelles Récréations et
Joyeux Devis are compact of less perilous stuff, while they exhibit equal
and perhaps greater literary skill. They consist of a hundred and twenty-nine
short tales, similar in general character to those of the Cent Nouvelles
one mediocre writer and two of the greatest talent—of talent amounting
almost to genius—have to be noticed. In 1535, Nicholas of Troyes, a
saddler by trade, produced a book entitled Grand Parangon de Nouvelles
Nouvelles, in which he followed rather, as his title indicates, the Cent
Nouvelles Nouvelles than any other model. His sources seem to have been
the Decameron and the Gesta Romanorum principally, though some of his
tales are original. Very different books are the Contes of Marguerite de
Navarre, usually termed the 'Heptameron,' and the Contes et Joyeux Devis
of her servant Bonaventure des Périers. Neither of these books was
published till a considerable period after the death, not merely of Rabelais,
but of their authors.
There are few persons of the time of whom less is
known than of Bonaventure des Périers[183], and, by no Bonaventure des
Périers.
means in consequence merely of this mystery, there are
few more interesting. He must have been born somewhere about the
beginning of the sixteenth century, and his friend Dolet calls him Aeduum
poetam, which would seem to fix his birth somewhere in the neighbourhood
at least of Autun. He was undoubtedly one of the literary courtiers of
Marguerite d'Angoulême. Finally, it seems that in the persecution which,
during the later years of Francis I.'s reign, came upon the Protestants and
freethinkers, and which the influence of Marguerite was powerless to
prevent, he committed suicide to escape the clutches of the law. Henri
Estienne, however, attributes the act to insanity or delirium. However this
may be, there is no doubt that Des Périers was a remarkable example of a
humanist. He was certainly a good scholar, and he was also a decided
freethinker. He has left poems of some merit, but not great perhaps, some
translations and minor prose pieces, but certainly two works of the highest
interest, the Cymbalum Mundi (1537) and the Nouvelles Récréations et
Joyeux Devis (1558). The Cymbalum Mundi betrays the influence of
Lucian, which was also very strong on Rabelais. It is a work in dialogue,
satirising the superstitions of antiquity with a hardly dubious reference to
the religious beliefs of Des Périers' own day. The Nouvelles Récréations et
Joyeux Devis are compact of less perilous stuff, while they exhibit equal
and perhaps greater literary skill. They consist of a hundred and twenty-nine
short tales, similar in general character to those of the Cent Nouvelles
Page 226
Nouvelles and other collections. Although, however, a great licence of
subject is still allowed, the language is far less coarse than in the work of
Antoine de la Salle, while the literary merits of the style are very much
greater. Des Périers was beyond all doubt a great master of half-serious and
half-joyous French prose. Nor is his matter much less remarkable than his
style. Like Rabelais, but with the difference that his was a more poetical
temperament than that of his greater contemporary, he has sudden accesses
of seriousness, almost of sentiment. At these times the spirit of the French
Renaissance, in its more cultivated and refined representatives, comes out
in him very strongly. This spirit may be defined as a kind of cultivated
sensuality, ardently enamoured of the beautiful in the world of sense, while
fully devoted to intellectual truth, and at the same time always conscious of
the nothingness of things, the instant pressure of death, the treacherousness
of mortal delights. The rare sentences in which Des Périers gives vent to the
expression of this mental attitude are for the most part admirably written,
while as a teller of tales, either comic or romantic, he has few equals and
fewer superiors.
The same spirit which has just been described found
even fuller expression, with greater advantages of scale The Heptameron.
and setting, in the Heptameron[184] of Marguerite of
Navarre. The exact authorship of this celebrated book is something of a
literary puzzle. Marguerite was a prolific author, if all the works which
were published under her name be unhesitatingly ascribed[185] to her.
Besides the poems printed under the pretty title of Les Marguerites de la
Marguerite, she produced many other works, as well as the Heptameron
which was not given to the world until after her death (1558). The House of
Valois was by no means destitute of literary talent. But that which seems
most likely to be the Queen's genuine work hardly corresponds with the
remarkable power shown in the Heptameron. On the other hand, Marguerite
for years maintained a literary court, in which all the most celebrated men
of the time, notably Marot and Bonaventure des Périers, held places. If it
were allowable to decide literary questions simply by considerations of
probability, there could be little hesitation in assigning the entire
Heptameron to Des Périers himself, and then its unfinished condition would
be intelligible enough. The general opinion of critics, however, is that it was
probably the result of the joint work of the Queen, of Des Périers, and of a
subject is still allowed, the language is far less coarse than in the work of
Antoine de la Salle, while the literary merits of the style are very much
greater. Des Périers was beyond all doubt a great master of half-serious and
half-joyous French prose. Nor is his matter much less remarkable than his
style. Like Rabelais, but with the difference that his was a more poetical
temperament than that of his greater contemporary, he has sudden accesses
of seriousness, almost of sentiment. At these times the spirit of the French
Renaissance, in its more cultivated and refined representatives, comes out
in him very strongly. This spirit may be defined as a kind of cultivated
sensuality, ardently enamoured of the beautiful in the world of sense, while
fully devoted to intellectual truth, and at the same time always conscious of
the nothingness of things, the instant pressure of death, the treacherousness
of mortal delights. The rare sentences in which Des Périers gives vent to the
expression of this mental attitude are for the most part admirably written,
while as a teller of tales, either comic or romantic, he has few equals and
fewer superiors.
The same spirit which has just been described found
even fuller expression, with greater advantages of scale The Heptameron.
and setting, in the Heptameron[184] of Marguerite of
Navarre. The exact authorship of this celebrated book is something of a
literary puzzle. Marguerite was a prolific author, if all the works which
were published under her name be unhesitatingly ascribed[185] to her.
Besides the poems printed under the pretty title of Les Marguerites de la
Marguerite, she produced many other works, as well as the Heptameron
which was not given to the world until after her death (1558). The House of
Valois was by no means destitute of literary talent. But that which seems
most likely to be the Queen's genuine work hardly corresponds with the
remarkable power shown in the Heptameron. On the other hand, Marguerite
for years maintained a literary court, in which all the most celebrated men
of the time, notably Marot and Bonaventure des Périers, held places. If it
were allowable to decide literary questions simply by considerations of
probability, there could be little hesitation in assigning the entire
Heptameron to Des Périers himself, and then its unfinished condition would
be intelligible enough. The general opinion of critics, however, is that it was
probably the result of the joint work of the Queen, of Des Périers, and of a
Page 227
good many other men, and probably some women, of letters. The idea and
plan of the work are avowedly borrowed from Boccaccio, but the thing is
worked out with so much originality that it becomes nothing so little as an
imitation. A company of ladies and gentlemen returning from Cauterets are
detained by bad weather in an out-of-the-way corner of the Pyrenees, and
beguile the time by telling stories. The interludes, however, in which the
tale-tellers are brought on the stage in person, are more circumstantial than
those of the Decameron, and the individual characters are much more fully
worked out. Indeed, the mere setting of the book, independently of its
seventy-two stories (for the eighth day is begun), makes a very interesting
tale, exhibiting not merely those characteristics of the time and its society
which have been noticed in connection with the Contes et Joyeux Devis,
but, in addition, a certain religiosity in which that time and society were
also by no means deficient, though it existed side by side with freethinking
of a daring kind and with unbridled licentiousness. The head of the party,
Dame Oisille, is the chief representative of this religious spirit, though all
the party are more or less penetrated by it. The subjects of the tales do not
differ much from those of Boccaccio, though they are, as a rule, occupied
with a higher class of society, and of necessity display a more polished
condition of manners. They are much longer than the anecdotes of the
Contes et Joyeux Devis, and generally, though not always, deal with
something like a connected story instead of with mere isolated traits or
apophthegms. The best of them are animated by the same spirit of refined
voluptuousness which animates so much of the writing and art of the time,
and which may indeed be said to be its chief feature. But this spirit has
seldom been presented in a light so attractive as that which it bears in the
Heptameron.
plan of the work are avowedly borrowed from Boccaccio, but the thing is
worked out with so much originality that it becomes nothing so little as an
imitation. A company of ladies and gentlemen returning from Cauterets are
detained by bad weather in an out-of-the-way corner of the Pyrenees, and
beguile the time by telling stories. The interludes, however, in which the
tale-tellers are brought on the stage in person, are more circumstantial than
those of the Decameron, and the individual characters are much more fully
worked out. Indeed, the mere setting of the book, independently of its
seventy-two stories (for the eighth day is begun), makes a very interesting
tale, exhibiting not merely those characteristics of the time and its society
which have been noticed in connection with the Contes et Joyeux Devis,
but, in addition, a certain religiosity in which that time and society were
also by no means deficient, though it existed side by side with freethinking
of a daring kind and with unbridled licentiousness. The head of the party,
Dame Oisille, is the chief representative of this religious spirit, though all
the party are more or less penetrated by it. The subjects of the tales do not
differ much from those of Boccaccio, though they are, as a rule, occupied
with a higher class of society, and of necessity display a more polished
condition of manners. They are much longer than the anecdotes of the
Contes et Joyeux Devis, and generally, though not always, deal with
something like a connected story instead of with mere isolated traits or
apophthegms. The best of them are animated by the same spirit of refined
voluptuousness which animates so much of the writing and art of the time,
and which may indeed be said to be its chief feature. But this spirit has
seldom been presented in a light so attractive as that which it bears in the
Heptameron.
Page 228
The influence of Rabelais on the one hand, of the
Heptameron on the other, is observable in almost all the Noel du Fail.
work of the same kind which the second half of the
sixteenth century produced. The fantastic buffoonery G. Bouchet.
and the indiscriminate prodigality of learning, which
were to the outward eye the distinguishing Cholières.
characteristics of Pantagruel, found however more
imitators than the poetical sentiment of the Heptameron. The earliest of the
successors of Rabelais was Noel du Fail, a gentleman and magistrate of
Britanny, who, five years before the master's death, produced two little
books, Propos Rustiques[186] and Baliverneries, which depict rural life and
its incidents with a good deal of vividness and colour. The imitation of
Rabelais is very perceptible, and sometimes a little irritating, but the work
on the whole has merit, and abounds in curious local traits. The Propos
Rustiques, too, are interesting because they underwent a singular travesty in
the next century, and appeared under a new and misleading title. Much later,
near forty years afterwards in fact, Du Fail produced the Contes
d'Eutrapel[187], which are rather critical and satirical dialogues than tales.
There is a good deal of dry humour in them. The provinciality to be noticed
in Du Fail was still a feature of French literature; and in this particular
department it long continued to be prominent, perhaps owing to the
example of Rabelais, who, wide as is his range, frequently takes pleasure in
mixing up petty local matters with his other materials. Thus, at the
beginning of the seventeenth century, Guillaume Bouchet (to be carefully
distinguished from Jean Bouchet, the poet of the early sixteenth century)
wrote a large collection of Serées[188] (Soirées), containing gossip on a
great variety of subjects, mingled with details of Angevin manners; and
Tabourot des Accords composed his Escraignes Dijonnaises. A singular
book, or rather two singular books[189], Les Matinées and Les Après-Dinées,
were produced by a person, the Seigneur de Cholières, of whom little else is
known. Cholières is a bad writer, and a commonplace if not stupid thinker;
but he tells some quaint stories, and his book shows us the deep hold which
the example of Rabelais had given to the practice of discussing grave
subjects in a light tone.
Heptameron on the other, is observable in almost all the Noel du Fail.
work of the same kind which the second half of the
sixteenth century produced. The fantastic buffoonery G. Bouchet.
and the indiscriminate prodigality of learning, which
were to the outward eye the distinguishing Cholières.
characteristics of Pantagruel, found however more
imitators than the poetical sentiment of the Heptameron. The earliest of the
successors of Rabelais was Noel du Fail, a gentleman and magistrate of
Britanny, who, five years before the master's death, produced two little
books, Propos Rustiques[186] and Baliverneries, which depict rural life and
its incidents with a good deal of vividness and colour. The imitation of
Rabelais is very perceptible, and sometimes a little irritating, but the work
on the whole has merit, and abounds in curious local traits. The Propos
Rustiques, too, are interesting because they underwent a singular travesty in
the next century, and appeared under a new and misleading title. Much later,
near forty years afterwards in fact, Du Fail produced the Contes
d'Eutrapel[187], which are rather critical and satirical dialogues than tales.
There is a good deal of dry humour in them. The provinciality to be noticed
in Du Fail was still a feature of French literature; and in this particular
department it long continued to be prominent, perhaps owing to the
example of Rabelais, who, wide as is his range, frequently takes pleasure in
mixing up petty local matters with his other materials. Thus, at the
beginning of the seventeenth century, Guillaume Bouchet (to be carefully
distinguished from Jean Bouchet, the poet of the early sixteenth century)
wrote a large collection of Serées[188] (Soirées), containing gossip on a
great variety of subjects, mingled with details of Angevin manners; and
Tabourot des Accords composed his Escraignes Dijonnaises. A singular
book, or rather two singular books[189], Les Matinées and Les Après-Dinées,
were produced by a person, the Seigneur de Cholières, of whom little else is
known. Cholières is a bad writer, and a commonplace if not stupid thinker;
but he tells some quaint stories, and his book shows us the deep hold which
the example of Rabelais had given to the practice of discussing grave
subjects in a light tone.
Page 229
There remain two books of sufficient importance to be
treated separately. The first of these is the Apologie pour Apologie pour
Hérodote.
Hérodote[190] (1566) of the scholar Henri Estienne. In
the guise of a serious defence of Herodotus from the
charges of untrustworthiness and invention frequently Moyen de Parvenir.
brought against him Estienne indulges in an elaborate indictment against his
own and recent times, especially against the Roman Catholic clergy. Much
of his book is taken from Rabelais, or from the Heptameron; much from the
preachers of the fifteenth century. Its literary merit has been a good deal
exaggerated, and its extreme desultoriness and absence of coherence make
it tedious to read for any length of time, but it is in a way amusing enough.
Much later (1610) the last—it may almost be said the first—echo of the
genuine spirit of Rabelais was sounded in the Moyen de Parvenir[191] of
Béroalde de Verville. This eccentric work is perhaps the most perfect
example of a fatrasie in existence. In the guise of guests at a banquet the
author brings in many celebrated persons of the day and of antiquity, and
makes them talk from pillar to post in the strangest possible fashion. The
licence of language and anecdote which Rabelais had permitted himself is
equalled and exceeded; but many of the tales are told with consummate art,
and, in the midst of the ribaldry and buffoonery, remarks of no small
shrewdness are constantly dropped as if by accident. There seems to have
been at the time something not unlike a serious idea that the book was made
up from unpublished papers of Rabelais himself. All external considerations
make this in the highest degree unlikely, and the resemblances are
obviously those of imitation rather than of identical authorship. But
undoubtedly nothing else of the kind comes so near to the excellences of
Gargantua and Pantagruel.
FOOTNOTES:
[178] Among these may be mentioned the charming story of Jehan de Paris (ed.
Montaiglon, Paris, 1874), which M. de Montaiglon has clearly proved to be of
the end of the fifteenth century. It is a cross between a Roman d'aventures and a
nursery tale, telling how the King of France as 'John of Paris' outwitted the King
of England in the suit for the hand of the Infanta of Spain.
[179] Ed. Jannet and Moland. 7 vols. (2nd ed.) Paris, 1873. Also ed. Marty-
Laveaux, vols. 1-4. Paris, 1870-81.
treated separately. The first of these is the Apologie pour Apologie pour
Hérodote.
Hérodote[190] (1566) of the scholar Henri Estienne. In
the guise of a serious defence of Herodotus from the
charges of untrustworthiness and invention frequently Moyen de Parvenir.
brought against him Estienne indulges in an elaborate indictment against his
own and recent times, especially against the Roman Catholic clergy. Much
of his book is taken from Rabelais, or from the Heptameron; much from the
preachers of the fifteenth century. Its literary merit has been a good deal
exaggerated, and its extreme desultoriness and absence of coherence make
it tedious to read for any length of time, but it is in a way amusing enough.
Much later (1610) the last—it may almost be said the first—echo of the
genuine spirit of Rabelais was sounded in the Moyen de Parvenir[191] of
Béroalde de Verville. This eccentric work is perhaps the most perfect
example of a fatrasie in existence. In the guise of guests at a banquet the
author brings in many celebrated persons of the day and of antiquity, and
makes them talk from pillar to post in the strangest possible fashion. The
licence of language and anecdote which Rabelais had permitted himself is
equalled and exceeded; but many of the tales are told with consummate art,
and, in the midst of the ribaldry and buffoonery, remarks of no small
shrewdness are constantly dropped as if by accident. There seems to have
been at the time something not unlike a serious idea that the book was made
up from unpublished papers of Rabelais himself. All external considerations
make this in the highest degree unlikely, and the resemblances are
obviously those of imitation rather than of identical authorship. But
undoubtedly nothing else of the kind comes so near to the excellences of
Gargantua and Pantagruel.
FOOTNOTES:
[178] Among these may be mentioned the charming story of Jehan de Paris (ed.
Montaiglon, Paris, 1874), which M. de Montaiglon has clearly proved to be of
the end of the fifteenth century. It is a cross between a Roman d'aventures and a
nursery tale, telling how the King of France as 'John of Paris' outwitted the King
of England in the suit for the hand of the Infanta of Spain.
[179] Ed. Jannet and Moland. 7 vols. (2nd ed.) Paris, 1873. Also ed. Marty-
Laveaux, vols. 1-4. Paris, 1870-81.
Page 230
[180] The question has been again discussed since the text was written by M.
Paul Lacroix (Paris, 1881), whose facts and arguments fully bear out the view
taken here. The other side is taken, though not very decidedly, in the fourth
volume of M. Marty-Laveaux' edition. The two contain a tolerably complete
survey of the question.
[181] The best general commentary on Rabelais is that of M. J. Fleury. 2 vols.
St. Petersburg, 1876-7.
[182] For an excellent account of Folengo, see Symonds' Renaissance in Italy,
vol. v. chap. 14.
[183] Ed. Lacour. 2 vols. Paris, 1866.
[184] Ed. Leroux de Lincy. 3 vols. Paris, 1855.
[185] She was born in 1492, and was thus two years older than her brother
Francis I. She married first the Duke d'Alençon, then Henri d'Albert King of
Navarre. Her private character has been most unjustly attacked. She died in
1549. Marguerite is spoken of by four surnames; de Valois from her family;
d'Angoulême from her father's title; d'Alençon from her first husband's; and de
Navarre from that of her second. In literature, to distinguish her from her great-
niece, the first wife of Henri IV., Marguerite d'Angoulême is the term most
commonly used.
[186] Ed. La Borderie. Paris, 1878. The bibliography of this book is very
curious.
[187] Ed. Hippeau. 2 vols. Paris, 1875.
[188] Ed. Roybet. Paris. In course of publication.
[189] Ed. Tricotel. 2 vols. Paris, 1879.
[190] Ed. Ristelhuber. 2 vols. Paris, 1879.
[191] Ed. Jacob. Paris, 1868. It is possibly not Béroalde's.
Paul Lacroix (Paris, 1881), whose facts and arguments fully bear out the view
taken here. The other side is taken, though not very decidedly, in the fourth
volume of M. Marty-Laveaux' edition. The two contain a tolerably complete
survey of the question.
[181] The best general commentary on Rabelais is that of M. J. Fleury. 2 vols.
St. Petersburg, 1876-7.
[182] For an excellent account of Folengo, see Symonds' Renaissance in Italy,
vol. v. chap. 14.
[183] Ed. Lacour. 2 vols. Paris, 1866.
[184] Ed. Leroux de Lincy. 3 vols. Paris, 1855.
[185] She was born in 1492, and was thus two years older than her brother
Francis I. She married first the Duke d'Alençon, then Henri d'Albert King of
Navarre. Her private character has been most unjustly attacked. She died in
1549. Marguerite is spoken of by four surnames; de Valois from her family;
d'Angoulême from her father's title; d'Alençon from her first husband's; and de
Navarre from that of her second. In literature, to distinguish her from her great-
niece, the first wife of Henri IV., Marguerite d'Angoulême is the term most
commonly used.
[186] Ed. La Borderie. Paris, 1878. The bibliography of this book is very
curious.
[187] Ed. Hippeau. 2 vols. Paris, 1875.
[188] Ed. Roybet. Paris. In course of publication.
[189] Ed. Tricotel. 2 vols. Paris, 1879.
[190] Ed. Ristelhuber. 2 vols. Paris, 1879.
[191] Ed. Jacob. Paris, 1868. It is possibly not Béroalde's.
Page 231
CHAPTER IV.
THE PLÉIADE.
Almost exactly at the middle of the sixteenth century a
movement took place in French literature which has no Character and
Effects of the
parallel in literary history, except the similar movement Pléiade Movement.
which took place, also in France, three centuries later.
The movement and its chief promoters are indifferently known in literature
by the name of the Pléiade, a term applied by the classical affectation of the
time to the group of seven men[192], Ronsard, Du Bellay, Belleau, Baïf,
Daurat, Jodelle, and Pontus de Tyard, who were most active in promoting it,
and who banded themselves together in a strict league or coterie for the
attainment of their purposes. These purposes were the reduction of the
French language and French literary forms to a state more comparable, as
they thought, to that of the two great classical tongues. They had no
intention (though such an intention has been falsely attributed to them both
at the time and since) of defacing or destroying their mother-tongue. On the
contrary, they were animated by the sincerest and, for the most part, the
most intelligent love for it. But the intense admiration of the severe beauties
of classical literature, which was the dominant literary note of the
Renaissance, translated itself in their active minds into a determination to
make, if it were possible, French itself more able to emulate the triumphs of
Greek and of Latin. This desire, even if it had borne no fruit, would have
honourably distinguished the French Renaissance from the Italian and
German forms of the movement. In Italy the humanists, for the most part,
contented themselves with practice in the Latin tongue, and in Germany
they did so almost wholly. But no sooner had the literature of antiquity
taken root in France than it was made to bear novas frondes et non sua
poma of vernacular literature. There were some absurdities committed by
the Pléiade no doubt, as there always are in enthusiastic crusades of any
kind: but it must never be forgotten that they had a solid basis of
philological truth to go upon. French, after all, despite a strong Teutonic
admixture, was a Latin tongue, and recurrence to Latin, and to the still more
THE PLÉIADE.
Almost exactly at the middle of the sixteenth century a
movement took place in French literature which has no Character and
Effects of the
parallel in literary history, except the similar movement Pléiade Movement.
which took place, also in France, three centuries later.
The movement and its chief promoters are indifferently known in literature
by the name of the Pléiade, a term applied by the classical affectation of the
time to the group of seven men[192], Ronsard, Du Bellay, Belleau, Baïf,
Daurat, Jodelle, and Pontus de Tyard, who were most active in promoting it,
and who banded themselves together in a strict league or coterie for the
attainment of their purposes. These purposes were the reduction of the
French language and French literary forms to a state more comparable, as
they thought, to that of the two great classical tongues. They had no
intention (though such an intention has been falsely attributed to them both
at the time and since) of defacing or destroying their mother-tongue. On the
contrary, they were animated by the sincerest and, for the most part, the
most intelligent love for it. But the intense admiration of the severe beauties
of classical literature, which was the dominant literary note of the
Renaissance, translated itself in their active minds into a determination to
make, if it were possible, French itself more able to emulate the triumphs of
Greek and of Latin. This desire, even if it had borne no fruit, would have
honourably distinguished the French Renaissance from the Italian and
German forms of the movement. In Italy the humanists, for the most part,
contented themselves with practice in the Latin tongue, and in Germany
they did so almost wholly. But no sooner had the literature of antiquity
taken root in France than it was made to bear novas frondes et non sua
poma of vernacular literature. There were some absurdities committed by
the Pléiade no doubt, as there always are in enthusiastic crusades of any
kind: but it must never be forgotten that they had a solid basis of
philological truth to go upon. French, after all, despite a strong Teutonic
admixture, was a Latin tongue, and recurrence to Latin, and to the still more
Page 232
majestic and fertile language which had had so much to do in shaping the
literary Latin dialect, was natural and germane to its character. In point of
fact, the Pléiade made modern French—made it, we may say, twice over;
for not only did its original work revolutionise the language in a manner so
durable that the reaction of the next century could not wholly undo it, but it
was mainly study of the Pléiade that armed the great masters of the
Romantic movement, the men of 1830, in their revolt against the cramping
rules and impoverished vocabulary of the eighteenth century. The effect of
the change indeed was far too universal for it to be possible for any
Malherbe or any Boileau to overthrow it. The whole literature of the nation,
at a time when it was wonderfully abundant and vigorous, 'Ronsardised' for
nearly fifty years, and such practice at such a time never fails to leave its
mark. The actual details of the movement cannot better be given than by
going through the list of its chief participators.
Pierre de Ronsard[193], Prince of Poets[194], was born at
La Poissonnière, in the Vendômois, or, as it was then Ronsard.
more often called, the Gâtinais, on the banks of the river
Loir, in 1524. He died in his own country in the year The Défense et
Illustration de la
1585, acknowledged, not merely in France but out of it, Langue Française.
as the leader of living poets. His early life, however, was
rather that of a man of action than of a poet, and one of the most studious of
poets. His father was an old courtier and servant of Francis I., whose
companion in captivity he had been, and Ronsard entered upon court life
when he was a boy of ten years old. He visited Scotland and England in the
suite of French ambassadors, and remained for some considerable time in
Great Britain. He was also attached to embassies in Flanders, Holland, and
Germany. But before he was of age he fell ill, and though he recovered, it
was at the cost of permanent deafness, which incapacitated him for the
public service. He threw himself on literature for a consolation, and under
the direction of Daurat, a scholar of renown, studied for years at the Collège
Coqueret. Here Du Bellay, Belleau, Baïf, were his fellow-students, and the
four with their master, with Étienne Jodelle, and with Pontus de Tyard,
afterwards bishop of Chalon, formed, as has been said, the Pléiade
according to the most orthodox computation. The idea conceived and
carried out in these studious years (by Ronsard himself and Du Bellay
beyond all doubt in the first place) was the reformation of French language
literary Latin dialect, was natural and germane to its character. In point of
fact, the Pléiade made modern French—made it, we may say, twice over;
for not only did its original work revolutionise the language in a manner so
durable that the reaction of the next century could not wholly undo it, but it
was mainly study of the Pléiade that armed the great masters of the
Romantic movement, the men of 1830, in their revolt against the cramping
rules and impoverished vocabulary of the eighteenth century. The effect of
the change indeed was far too universal for it to be possible for any
Malherbe or any Boileau to overthrow it. The whole literature of the nation,
at a time when it was wonderfully abundant and vigorous, 'Ronsardised' for
nearly fifty years, and such practice at such a time never fails to leave its
mark. The actual details of the movement cannot better be given than by
going through the list of its chief participators.
Pierre de Ronsard[193], Prince of Poets[194], was born at
La Poissonnière, in the Vendômois, or, as it was then Ronsard.
more often called, the Gâtinais, on the banks of the river
Loir, in 1524. He died in his own country in the year The Défense et
Illustration de la
1585, acknowledged, not merely in France but out of it, Langue Française.
as the leader of living poets. His early life, however, was
rather that of a man of action than of a poet, and one of the most studious of
poets. His father was an old courtier and servant of Francis I., whose
companion in captivity he had been, and Ronsard entered upon court life
when he was a boy of ten years old. He visited Scotland and England in the
suite of French ambassadors, and remained for some considerable time in
Great Britain. He was also attached to embassies in Flanders, Holland, and
Germany. But before he was of age he fell ill, and though he recovered, it
was at the cost of permanent deafness, which incapacitated him for the
public service. He threw himself on literature for a consolation, and under
the direction of Daurat, a scholar of renown, studied for years at the Collège
Coqueret. Here Du Bellay, Belleau, Baïf, were his fellow-students, and the
four with their master, with Étienne Jodelle, and with Pontus de Tyard,
afterwards bishop of Chalon, formed, as has been said, the Pléiade
according to the most orthodox computation. The idea conceived and
carried out in these studious years (by Ronsard himself and Du Bellay
beyond all doubt in the first place) was the reformation of French language
Page 233
and French literature by study and imitation of the ancients. In 1549 the
manifesto of the society issued, in the shape of Du Bellay's Défense et
Illustration de la Langue Française, and in 1550 the first practical
illustration of the method was given by Ronsard's Odes. The principles of
the Défense et Illustration may be thus summarised. The author holds that
the current forms of literature, dizains, rondeaus, etc., are altogether too
facile and easy, that the language used is too pedestrian, the treatment
wanting in gravity and art. He would have Odes of the Horatian kind take
the place of Chansons, the sonnet, non moins docte que plaisante invention
Italienne, of dizains and huitains, regular tragedy and comedy of moralities
and farces, regular satires of Fatrasies and Coq-à-l'âne. He takes particular
pains to demonstrate the contrary proposition to Wordsworth's, and to prove
that merely natural and ordinary language is not sufficient for him who in
poesy wishes to produce work deserving of immortality. He ridicules the
mediaeval affectations and conceits of some of the writers of his time, who
gave themselves such names as 'Le Banni de Liesse,' 'Le Traverseur des
Voies Périlleuses,' etc. He speaks, indeed, not too respectfully of mediaeval
literature generally, and uses language which probably suggested Gabriel
Harvey's depreciatory remarks about the Fairy Queen forty years later. In
much of this there is exaggeration, and in much more of it mistake. By
turning their backs on the middle ages—though indeed they were not able
to do it thoroughly—the Pléiade lost almost as much in subject and spirit as
they gained in language and formal excellence. The laudation of the sonnet,
while the ballade and chant royal, things of similar nature and of hardly less
capacity, are denounced as épiceries, savours of a rather Philistine
preference for mere novelty and foreign fashions. But, as has been already
pointed out, Du Bellay was right in the main, and it must especially be
insisted on that his aim was to strengthen and reform, not to alter or
misguide, the French language. The peroration of the book in a highly
rhetorical style speaks of the writer and his readers as having 'échappé du
milieu des Grecs et par les escadrons Romains pour entrer jusqu'au sein de
la tant désirée France.' That is to say, the innovators are to carry off what
spoils they can from Greece and Rome, but it is to be for the enrichment
and benefit of the French tongue. Frenchmen are to write French, not Latin
and Greek; but they are to write it not merely in a conversational way,
content as Du Bellay says somewhere else, 'n'avoir dit rien qui vaille aux
neuf premiers vers, pourvu qu'au dixième il y ait le petit mot pour rire.'
manifesto of the society issued, in the shape of Du Bellay's Défense et
Illustration de la Langue Française, and in 1550 the first practical
illustration of the method was given by Ronsard's Odes. The principles of
the Défense et Illustration may be thus summarised. The author holds that
the current forms of literature, dizains, rondeaus, etc., are altogether too
facile and easy, that the language used is too pedestrian, the treatment
wanting in gravity and art. He would have Odes of the Horatian kind take
the place of Chansons, the sonnet, non moins docte que plaisante invention
Italienne, of dizains and huitains, regular tragedy and comedy of moralities
and farces, regular satires of Fatrasies and Coq-à-l'âne. He takes particular
pains to demonstrate the contrary proposition to Wordsworth's, and to prove
that merely natural and ordinary language is not sufficient for him who in
poesy wishes to produce work deserving of immortality. He ridicules the
mediaeval affectations and conceits of some of the writers of his time, who
gave themselves such names as 'Le Banni de Liesse,' 'Le Traverseur des
Voies Périlleuses,' etc. He speaks, indeed, not too respectfully of mediaeval
literature generally, and uses language which probably suggested Gabriel
Harvey's depreciatory remarks about the Fairy Queen forty years later. In
much of this there is exaggeration, and in much more of it mistake. By
turning their backs on the middle ages—though indeed they were not able
to do it thoroughly—the Pléiade lost almost as much in subject and spirit as
they gained in language and formal excellence. The laudation of the sonnet,
while the ballade and chant royal, things of similar nature and of hardly less
capacity, are denounced as épiceries, savours of a rather Philistine
preference for mere novelty and foreign fashions. But, as has been already
pointed out, Du Bellay was right in the main, and it must especially be
insisted on that his aim was to strengthen and reform, not to alter or
misguide, the French language. The peroration of the book in a highly
rhetorical style speaks of the writer and his readers as having 'échappé du
milieu des Grecs et par les escadrons Romains pour entrer jusqu'au sein de
la tant désirée France.' That is to say, the innovators are to carry off what
spoils they can from Greece and Rome, but it is to be for the enrichment
and benefit of the French tongue. Frenchmen are to write French, not Latin
and Greek; but they are to write it not merely in a conversational way,
content as Du Bellay says somewhere else, 'n'avoir dit rien qui vaille aux
neuf premiers vers, pourvu qu'au dixième il y ait le petit mot pour rire.'
Page 234
They are to accustom themselves to long and weary studies, 'ear ce sont les
ailes dont les escripts des hommes volent au ciel,' to imitate good authors,
not merely in Greek and Latin, but in Italian, Spanish, or any other tongue
where they may be found. Such was the manifesto of the Pléiade; and no
one who has studied French literature and French character, who knows the
special tendency of the nation to drop from time to time into a sterile self-
admiration, and an easy confidence that it is the all-sufficient wonder of the
world, can doubt its wisdom. Certainly, whatever may be thought of it in
the abstract, it was justified of its children. The first of these was, as has
been said, Ronsard's Odes, published in 1550. These he followed up, in
1552, by Les Amours de Cassandre, in 1553 by a volume of Hymnes, as
well as by Le Bocage Royal, Les Amours de Marie, sonnets, etc., all of
which were, in 1560, republished in a collected edition of four volumes.
From the first Ronsard had been a very popular poet at court, where,
according to a well-known anecdote, Marguerite de Savoie, the second of
the Valois Marguerites, snatched his first volume from Mellin de Saint
Gelais, who was reading it in a designed tone of burlesque, and reading it
herself to her brother Henry II. and the court, obtained a verdict at once for
the young poet. The accession of Charles IX. brought Ronsard still more
into favour, and during the next ten years he produced many courtly poems
of the occasional kind, besides others to suit his own pleasure. In 1572 the
first part of his most ambitious, but perhaps least successful, work
appeared. This was the Franciade, a dull epic. At the death of Charles,
Ronsard retired to his native province, where he had an abbacy, Croix-Val.
Here all his poetical powers returned, and in his last Amours, Sonnets to
Hélène, and other pieces, some of his very best work is to be found. The
year before his death he produced an edition of his works much altered, but
by no means invariably improved.
There are few poets to whose personal merits there is more unanimity of
trustworthy testimony than there is to those of Ronsard. From the time of
his betaking himself to literary work, he seems to have been wholly given
to study, and to the contemplation of natural beauty. Although jealous of his
own great reputation, and liable to be nettled when it was imperilled, as it
was by Du Bartas, he was as a rule singularly placable in literary quarrels.
The story of his quarrelling with Rabelais is late, unsupported, and to all
appearance fabulous; while, on the other hand, the passages which have
ailes dont les escripts des hommes volent au ciel,' to imitate good authors,
not merely in Greek and Latin, but in Italian, Spanish, or any other tongue
where they may be found. Such was the manifesto of the Pléiade; and no
one who has studied French literature and French character, who knows the
special tendency of the nation to drop from time to time into a sterile self-
admiration, and an easy confidence that it is the all-sufficient wonder of the
world, can doubt its wisdom. Certainly, whatever may be thought of it in
the abstract, it was justified of its children. The first of these was, as has
been said, Ronsard's Odes, published in 1550. These he followed up, in
1552, by Les Amours de Cassandre, in 1553 by a volume of Hymnes, as
well as by Le Bocage Royal, Les Amours de Marie, sonnets, etc., all of
which were, in 1560, republished in a collected edition of four volumes.
From the first Ronsard had been a very popular poet at court, where,
according to a well-known anecdote, Marguerite de Savoie, the second of
the Valois Marguerites, snatched his first volume from Mellin de Saint
Gelais, who was reading it in a designed tone of burlesque, and reading it
herself to her brother Henry II. and the court, obtained a verdict at once for
the young poet. The accession of Charles IX. brought Ronsard still more
into favour, and during the next ten years he produced many courtly poems
of the occasional kind, besides others to suit his own pleasure. In 1572 the
first part of his most ambitious, but perhaps least successful, work
appeared. This was the Franciade, a dull epic. At the death of Charles,
Ronsard retired to his native province, where he had an abbacy, Croix-Val.
Here all his poetical powers returned, and in his last Amours, Sonnets to
Hélène, and other pieces, some of his very best work is to be found. The
year before his death he produced an edition of his works much altered, but
by no means invariably improved.
There are few poets to whose personal merits there is more unanimity of
trustworthy testimony than there is to those of Ronsard. From the time of
his betaking himself to literary work, he seems to have been wholly given
to study, and to the contemplation of natural beauty. Although jealous of his
own great reputation, and liable to be nettled when it was imperilled, as it
was by Du Bartas, he was as a rule singularly placable in literary quarrels.
The story of his quarrelling with Rabelais is late, unsupported, and to all
appearance fabulous; while, on the other hand, the passages which have
Page 235
been supposed to reflect on the Pléiade in the writings of Rabelais can, for
chronological reasons, by no possibility refer to Ronsard or his friends.
Lastly, the poet appears to have had no thought of writing for gain, and
though, like all his contemporaries, he did not scruple to solicit favours
from the king, he was in no way importunate or servile. But while his
personal character, as well as the extraordinary esteem in which he was held
by all his contemporaries, has never been seriously contested, critical
estimates of his literary work have strangely varied. To his own age he was
the 'Prince of Poets.' His successor, Malherbe, behaved to him as certain
popes are reported to have behaved to their predecessors, excommunicating
him in the literary sense. Boileau, with his usual ignorance of French
literature before his own day, described his work in lines which French
schoolboys long learnt by heart, and which are as false in fact as they are
imbecile in criticism. Fénelon was almost the only sincere partisan he had
for two centuries. But when the Romantic movement began Ronsard was
for a while almost restored to the position he held in his lifetime, and his
works became a kind of Bible to the disciples of Sainte-Beuve and the
followers of Hugo. The strong mediaeval revival which accompanied the
movement was however unfavourable to Ronsard, and he has again sunk,
though not very low, in the general estimation of French critics. The history
is curious, and as a literary phenomenon instructive. But it is not difficult
for an impartial judge to place Ronsard in his true position. His main
defects are two: he was too much a poet of malice prepense, and yet he
wrote on the whole too fluently. The mass of his work is great, and it is not
always, nor perhaps very often, animated by those unmistakable and
universal poetical touches which in the long run will alone suffice to induce
posterity to keep a writer on its shelf of great poets. Yet these touches are by
no means wanting in Ronsard. Many of his sonnets, especially the famous
and universally admired 'Quand vous serez bien vieille,' not a few of his
odes, especially the equally famous 'Mignonne, allons voir si la rose,' rank
among those poems of which it can only be said that they could not be
better, and detached passages innumerable deserve hardly lower praise. But
it is when Ronsard is viewed from the standpoint of a thoroughly instructed
historical criticism that his real greatness appears. It is when we look at the
poets that came before him and at those who came after him that we see the
immense benefit he conferred upon his successors, and upon the language
which those successors illustrated. The result of his classical studies was
chronological reasons, by no possibility refer to Ronsard or his friends.
Lastly, the poet appears to have had no thought of writing for gain, and
though, like all his contemporaries, he did not scruple to solicit favours
from the king, he was in no way importunate or servile. But while his
personal character, as well as the extraordinary esteem in which he was held
by all his contemporaries, has never been seriously contested, critical
estimates of his literary work have strangely varied. To his own age he was
the 'Prince of Poets.' His successor, Malherbe, behaved to him as certain
popes are reported to have behaved to their predecessors, excommunicating
him in the literary sense. Boileau, with his usual ignorance of French
literature before his own day, described his work in lines which French
schoolboys long learnt by heart, and which are as false in fact as they are
imbecile in criticism. Fénelon was almost the only sincere partisan he had
for two centuries. But when the Romantic movement began Ronsard was
for a while almost restored to the position he held in his lifetime, and his
works became a kind of Bible to the disciples of Sainte-Beuve and the
followers of Hugo. The strong mediaeval revival which accompanied the
movement was however unfavourable to Ronsard, and he has again sunk,
though not very low, in the general estimation of French critics. The history
is curious, and as a literary phenomenon instructive. But it is not difficult
for an impartial judge to place Ronsard in his true position. His main
defects are two: he was too much a poet of malice prepense, and yet he
wrote on the whole too fluently. The mass of his work is great, and it is not
always, nor perhaps very often, animated by those unmistakable and
universal poetical touches which in the long run will alone suffice to induce
posterity to keep a writer on its shelf of great poets. Yet these touches are by
no means wanting in Ronsard. Many of his sonnets, especially the famous
and universally admired 'Quand vous serez bien vieille,' not a few of his
odes, especially the equally famous 'Mignonne, allons voir si la rose,' rank
among those poems of which it can only be said that they could not be
better, and detached passages innumerable deserve hardly lower praise. But
it is when Ronsard is viewed from the standpoint of a thoroughly instructed
historical criticism that his real greatness appears. It is when we look at the
poets that came before him and at those who came after him that we see the
immense benefit he conferred upon his successors, and upon the language
which those successors illustrated. The result of his classical studies was
Page 236
little less than the introduction of an entirely new rhythm into French
poetry: let it be observed that a new rhythm, and not merely new metre, is
what is spoken of. Since the disuse of the half-inarticulate but sweet
rhythmical varieties of the mediaeval pastourelles and romances a great
monotony had come upon French poetry. The fault of the artificial forms of
the fourteenth, fifteenth, and early sixteenth centuries, the épiceries of Du
Bellay's scornful allusion, was that they induced their writers to concentrate
their attention on the arrangement of the rhymes and stanzas, to the neglect
of the individual line, the rhythm of which was but too frequently lame,
stiff, and prosaic in the extreme. With Marot and Saint Gelais the
introduction of less formal patterns, dizains, huitains, etc., had had the
additional drawback of making the individual verse even more prosaic and
pedestrian, though it may be somewhat less stiff. Now the line is, after all,
the unit of poetry, and all reform must start with it. It is the great glory of
Ronsard that his reform did so start. From his time French poetry reads
quite differently. Perhaps this was due to his study of the Horatian quantity-
metres, where every syllable has to give its quota to the effect of the line as
well as every line its quota to the effect of the stanza. But whether it was
this or something else, the effect is indisputable. To this must be added a
liberal, though in Ronsard's own case not excessive, importation of new
words from Greek and Latin, a bold and striking mode of expression, the
retention of many picturesque old words which the senseless folly of the
seventeenth-century reformers banished, and, above all, a great indulgence
in diminutives, which give a most charming effect to the lighter verse of
Ronsard and his friends, and which also were cut off by the indiscriminate
and 'desperate hook' of Malherbe and Boileau. So great were the formal
changes and improvements thus introduced, that French poetry takes a new
colour from the age of Ronsard, a colour which in its moments of health it
has ever since displayed.
Next to Ronsard, and perhaps above him, if uniform
excellence rather than bulk and range of work is Du Bellay.
considered, ranks Joachim du Bellay[195]. He was a
connection, though it does not seem quite clear what connection, of the
Cardinal du Bellay to whom Rabelais was so long attached, and whose
house included other illustrious members. Probably he was a cousin of the
cardinal and of his two brothers the memoir writers. His youth was rendered
poetry: let it be observed that a new rhythm, and not merely new metre, is
what is spoken of. Since the disuse of the half-inarticulate but sweet
rhythmical varieties of the mediaeval pastourelles and romances a great
monotony had come upon French poetry. The fault of the artificial forms of
the fourteenth, fifteenth, and early sixteenth centuries, the épiceries of Du
Bellay's scornful allusion, was that they induced their writers to concentrate
their attention on the arrangement of the rhymes and stanzas, to the neglect
of the individual line, the rhythm of which was but too frequently lame,
stiff, and prosaic in the extreme. With Marot and Saint Gelais the
introduction of less formal patterns, dizains, huitains, etc., had had the
additional drawback of making the individual verse even more prosaic and
pedestrian, though it may be somewhat less stiff. Now the line is, after all,
the unit of poetry, and all reform must start with it. It is the great glory of
Ronsard that his reform did so start. From his time French poetry reads
quite differently. Perhaps this was due to his study of the Horatian quantity-
metres, where every syllable has to give its quota to the effect of the line as
well as every line its quota to the effect of the stanza. But whether it was
this or something else, the effect is indisputable. To this must be added a
liberal, though in Ronsard's own case not excessive, importation of new
words from Greek and Latin, a bold and striking mode of expression, the
retention of many picturesque old words which the senseless folly of the
seventeenth-century reformers banished, and, above all, a great indulgence
in diminutives, which give a most charming effect to the lighter verse of
Ronsard and his friends, and which also were cut off by the indiscriminate
and 'desperate hook' of Malherbe and Boileau. So great were the formal
changes and improvements thus introduced, that French poetry takes a new
colour from the age of Ronsard, a colour which in its moments of health it
has ever since displayed.
Next to Ronsard, and perhaps above him, if uniform
excellence rather than bulk and range of work is Du Bellay.
considered, ranks Joachim du Bellay[195]. He was a
connection, though it does not seem quite clear what connection, of the
Cardinal du Bellay to whom Rabelais was so long attached, and whose
house included other illustrious members. Probably he was a cousin of the
cardinal and of his two brothers the memoir writers. His youth was rendered
Page 237
troublesome by illness and law difficulties, but at last he was able with
Ronsard, whose junior he was by a little, to give himself up to study under
Daurat. His prose manifesto has already been dealt with, and almost
immediately afterwards he in some sort anticipated Ronsard's poetical
carrying out of his principles by a volume of Sonnets to Olive, the anagram
of a certain Mademoiselle de Viole. The sonnet, however, was not such an
absolute novelty as the ode, having been introduced already by Mellin de
Saint Gelais. Shortly afterwards he went to Italy with the Cardinal du
Bellay, a proceeding which did not bring him good luck. The intriguing
diplomacy of the papal court displeased him, and he soon lost his cousin's
favour. A volume of sonnets entitled Regrets, full of vigour and poetry,
dates from this time. But Du Bellay, deprived of the protection of the most
powerful member of his family, again fell into difficulties, and finally died
in 1560 at the age of thirty-five. His Roman sojourn has given birth to
perhaps the finest of his works, Les Antiquités de Rome, Englished by
Spenser under the slightly altered title of 'The Ruins of Rome.' Du Bellay's
works are not extensive, and indeed they could hardly be so, considering
the shortness of his life and the interruptions of business and study which
even that short life underwent. But he is undoubtedly the member of the
group whose work keeps at the highest level. Nor is his excellence limited
to one or two tones. For grace and simplicity his Vanneur, his Épitaphe d'un
Chat, and several others of his Jeux Rustiques challenge comparison. He
had a strong vein of satire, which he showed in denouncing fawning
poetasters as well as the corrupt and intriguing hangers on of the Papal
court. His sonnets to Olive have the finest flavour of the peculiarly
cultivated and graceful voluptuousness which has been noted as one of the
distinguishing marks of the French Renaissance. His Antiquités de Rome
exhibit even more strongly another of those distinguishing marks, the
melancholy sense of death, destruction, and nothingness; indeed, as the
Heptameron is the typical prose work of this period, so Du Bellay's poems
may be taken as its typical poetry. He has been called the Apollo of the
Pléiade, but he should with justice be called its Mercury as well, for, as he
was perhaps its best poet, so he was certainly its best prose writer. It is
unlucky that he was less favoured by fate and fortune than any other of the
greater writers of the century.
Ronsard, whose junior he was by a little, to give himself up to study under
Daurat. His prose manifesto has already been dealt with, and almost
immediately afterwards he in some sort anticipated Ronsard's poetical
carrying out of his principles by a volume of Sonnets to Olive, the anagram
of a certain Mademoiselle de Viole. The sonnet, however, was not such an
absolute novelty as the ode, having been introduced already by Mellin de
Saint Gelais. Shortly afterwards he went to Italy with the Cardinal du
Bellay, a proceeding which did not bring him good luck. The intriguing
diplomacy of the papal court displeased him, and he soon lost his cousin's
favour. A volume of sonnets entitled Regrets, full of vigour and poetry,
dates from this time. But Du Bellay, deprived of the protection of the most
powerful member of his family, again fell into difficulties, and finally died
in 1560 at the age of thirty-five. His Roman sojourn has given birth to
perhaps the finest of his works, Les Antiquités de Rome, Englished by
Spenser under the slightly altered title of 'The Ruins of Rome.' Du Bellay's
works are not extensive, and indeed they could hardly be so, considering
the shortness of his life and the interruptions of business and study which
even that short life underwent. But he is undoubtedly the member of the
group whose work keeps at the highest level. Nor is his excellence limited
to one or two tones. For grace and simplicity his Vanneur, his Épitaphe d'un
Chat, and several others of his Jeux Rustiques challenge comparison. He
had a strong vein of satire, which he showed in denouncing fawning
poetasters as well as the corrupt and intriguing hangers on of the Papal
court. His sonnets to Olive have the finest flavour of the peculiarly
cultivated and graceful voluptuousness which has been noted as one of the
distinguishing marks of the French Renaissance. His Antiquités de Rome
exhibit even more strongly another of those distinguishing marks, the
melancholy sense of death, destruction, and nothingness; indeed, as the
Heptameron is the typical prose work of this period, so Du Bellay's poems
may be taken as its typical poetry. He has been called the Apollo of the
Pléiade, but he should with justice be called its Mercury as well, for, as he
was perhaps its best poet, so he was certainly its best prose writer. It is
unlucky that he was less favoured by fate and fortune than any other of the
greater writers of the century.
Page 238
The position of best poet of the Pléiade—Ronsard, the
greatest, having mingled a good deal of alloy with his Belleau.
gold—has been sometimes disputed for Rémy
Belleau[196]. It is certain that his 'Avril' holds with Du Bellay's 'Vanneur' and
Ronsard's already-mentioned 'Quand vous serez bien vieille,' the rank of the
best known and best liked poems of the school. Belleau, whose life was
extremely uneventful, was born at Nogent-le-Rotrou in 1528, and was
attached during nearly the whole of his life to the household of Rémy de
Lorraine, Marquis d'Elbeuf, and his son Charles, Duc d'Elbeuf, whose
education he superintended and in whose house he spent his days. He died
in 1577 and received an elaborate funeral, being carried to the grave by his
brother stars, Ronsard and Baïf, and by two of the younger disciples of the
Pléiade, Desportes and Jamyn. Belleau was the chief purely descriptive poet
and the chief poetical translator of the Pléiade. He began by a collection of
poems entitled Petites Inventions (short descriptive pieces), and by a
translation of Anacreon. In 1565 a more ambitious work, the Bergerie,
made its appearance. This is a mixture of prose and poetry, describing
country life and its attractions. It is in this that the famous 'Avril' occurs,
and there are other detached pieces not much inferior. In 1566 another
rather curiously conceived work made its appearance, the Amours et
Nouveaux Échanges de Pierres Précieuses. As a whole this is perhaps his
best book. Besides these, Belleau also translated or paraphrased the
Phenomena of Aratus, Ecclesiastes, and the Song of Solomon. He deserves
to rank with not a few poets who have often attained a fair secondary
position in the art, and whose special faculty disposes them to patient and
ingenious description in more or less poetical verse. The stately and at the
same time flexible rhythm, the brilliant and varied vocabulary which the
Pléiade used, lent themselves not ill to this task, and Belleau's talent,
learning, and industry enabled him to give an unusually equable charm to
his work. But he is altogether too occasional, too void of the higher poetical
sentiment, and too limited in range, to be ranked with Ronsard or with Du
Bellay. His peculiar quality of patient labour stood him in good stead in
composing a Macaronic poem on the Huguenots, which is by no means
without value.
Jean Antoine de Baïf[197] was a man of more varied
talent than Belleau, and his history and personality are Baïf.
greatest, having mingled a good deal of alloy with his Belleau.
gold—has been sometimes disputed for Rémy
Belleau[196]. It is certain that his 'Avril' holds with Du Bellay's 'Vanneur' and
Ronsard's already-mentioned 'Quand vous serez bien vieille,' the rank of the
best known and best liked poems of the school. Belleau, whose life was
extremely uneventful, was born at Nogent-le-Rotrou in 1528, and was
attached during nearly the whole of his life to the household of Rémy de
Lorraine, Marquis d'Elbeuf, and his son Charles, Duc d'Elbeuf, whose
education he superintended and in whose house he spent his days. He died
in 1577 and received an elaborate funeral, being carried to the grave by his
brother stars, Ronsard and Baïf, and by two of the younger disciples of the
Pléiade, Desportes and Jamyn. Belleau was the chief purely descriptive poet
and the chief poetical translator of the Pléiade. He began by a collection of
poems entitled Petites Inventions (short descriptive pieces), and by a
translation of Anacreon. In 1565 a more ambitious work, the Bergerie,
made its appearance. This is a mixture of prose and poetry, describing
country life and its attractions. It is in this that the famous 'Avril' occurs,
and there are other detached pieces not much inferior. In 1566 another
rather curiously conceived work made its appearance, the Amours et
Nouveaux Échanges de Pierres Précieuses. As a whole this is perhaps his
best book. Besides these, Belleau also translated or paraphrased the
Phenomena of Aratus, Ecclesiastes, and the Song of Solomon. He deserves
to rank with not a few poets who have often attained a fair secondary
position in the art, and whose special faculty disposes them to patient and
ingenious description in more or less poetical verse. The stately and at the
same time flexible rhythm, the brilliant and varied vocabulary which the
Pléiade used, lent themselves not ill to this task, and Belleau's talent,
learning, and industry enabled him to give an unusually equable charm to
his work. But he is altogether too occasional, too void of the higher poetical
sentiment, and too limited in range, to be ranked with Ronsard or with Du
Bellay. His peculiar quality of patient labour stood him in good stead in
composing a Macaronic poem on the Huguenots, which is by no means
without value.
Jean Antoine de Baïf[197] was a man of more varied
talent than Belleau, and his history and personality are Baïf.
Page 239
more interesting. He was the natural son of Lazare de Baïf, French
ambassador at Venice, and of a noble lady of that city. Marriage was
impossible, for Lazare de Baïf, who was himself a man of letters, was in
orders; but he did his best for his son, and in 1547, when he was still very
young, left him a considerable fortune. Baïf was, except Jodelle, the
youngest member of the Pléiade, but he early distinguished himself by his
expertness in the classical languages. He began in French, like the majority
of his school, with a collection of sonnets and other pieces, entitled Les
Amours de Méline, and he followed them up with the Amours de Francine.
Francine is said to have had over her predecessor the advantage or
disadvantage of existing. Baïf then turned to the new theatre, which his
comrade Jodelle had introduced, and translated or adapted several plays of
Plautus, Terence, and Sophocles, but these will be noticed elsewhere. He
returned to poetry proper in Les Passe-Temps, a poetical miscellany of
merit. Lastly, in 1581, appeared a curious work, entitled Les Mimes,
composed of octosyllabic dizains, half-moral, half-satirical in tone and
subject. Baïf, who was thought by some of his contemporaries to write even
better in Latin than in French, was a chief defender of the often-mooted
though preposterous plan of adjusting modern languages to the exact metres
of the ancients. This idea, which somewhat later seduced no less a man than
Spenser for a time, and with him many of the brightest wits in England, is
perhaps almost more hopeless in French than in our own tongue, owing to
the omnipotence of accent and the habit of slurring almost all the syllables
of a word except one. But it was frequently entertained at different times
through the century, and is said by Agrippa d'Aubigné to have been started
as early as 1530 by a certain Mousset, of whom there is no other trace. Baïf,
who was also a spelling reformer, wrote a good deal of verse in the metres
he advocated, but with no greater success than the other adventurous
persons who have attempted the same tour de force. He is also said to have
conceived the idea of an Academy, and to have in many other ways shown
himself an active and ardent reformer of letters. It is for this alertness of
spirit and general proficiency in literary craftsmanship that Baïf is
memorable, rather than for supreme or even remarkable poetical power. His
epitaphs are among his best work, probably owing to his careful study of
the hardly-to-be-surpassed examples of this kind of composition which the
classical languages afford. He was a diligent panegyrist of country life and
country ways, but no single work of his in this class comes up to the
ambassador at Venice, and of a noble lady of that city. Marriage was
impossible, for Lazare de Baïf, who was himself a man of letters, was in
orders; but he did his best for his son, and in 1547, when he was still very
young, left him a considerable fortune. Baïf was, except Jodelle, the
youngest member of the Pléiade, but he early distinguished himself by his
expertness in the classical languages. He began in French, like the majority
of his school, with a collection of sonnets and other pieces, entitled Les
Amours de Méline, and he followed them up with the Amours de Francine.
Francine is said to have had over her predecessor the advantage or
disadvantage of existing. Baïf then turned to the new theatre, which his
comrade Jodelle had introduced, and translated or adapted several plays of
Plautus, Terence, and Sophocles, but these will be noticed elsewhere. He
returned to poetry proper in Les Passe-Temps, a poetical miscellany of
merit. Lastly, in 1581, appeared a curious work, entitled Les Mimes,
composed of octosyllabic dizains, half-moral, half-satirical in tone and
subject. Baïf, who was thought by some of his contemporaries to write even
better in Latin than in French, was a chief defender of the often-mooted
though preposterous plan of adjusting modern languages to the exact metres
of the ancients. This idea, which somewhat later seduced no less a man than
Spenser for a time, and with him many of the brightest wits in England, is
perhaps almost more hopeless in French than in our own tongue, owing to
the omnipotence of accent and the habit of slurring almost all the syllables
of a word except one. But it was frequently entertained at different times
through the century, and is said by Agrippa d'Aubigné to have been started
as early as 1530 by a certain Mousset, of whom there is no other trace. Baïf,
who was also a spelling reformer, wrote a good deal of verse in the metres
he advocated, but with no greater success than the other adventurous
persons who have attempted the same tour de force. He is also said to have
conceived the idea of an Academy, and to have in many other ways shown
himself an active and ardent reformer of letters. It is for this alertness of
spirit and general proficiency in literary craftsmanship that Baïf is
memorable, rather than for supreme or even remarkable poetical power. His
epitaphs are among his best work, probably owing to his careful study of
the hardly-to-be-surpassed examples of this kind of composition which the
classical languages afford. He was a diligent panegyrist of country life and
country ways, but no single work of his in this class comes up to the
Page 240
masterpieces of Ronsard, Du Bellay, and Belleau. Range, variety, and
inventiveness of spirit are Baïf's chief merits.
The three remaining members of the group may be
disposed of more rapidly. Daurat, the eldest, and in a Daurat, Jodelle,
sense the master of all, was, as far as regards French Pontus de Tyard.
composition, the dark star of the Pléiade, for he wrote nothing of
importance in the vernacular. Jodelle was a voluminous writer, but his
dramatic importance so far exceeds his merely poetical value that he will be
best treated of when we come to discuss the Theatre of the Renaissance. A
somewhat curious instance of his poetical energy is to be found in his
unfinished, indeed hardly begun, Contre-Amours. All the rest had started
with a volume of verse in praise of some real or imaginary mistress, so
Jodelle determined to write one against an unkind lady. The seventh
member of the Pléiade, Pontus de Tyard, was the eldest save Daurat, the
longest-lived and the highest in station, while he was also in a way the most
original, having published his first book before the appearance of the
Défense et Illustration. He was born at Bissy, near Macon, and, having been
appointed Bishop of Chalon, died in 1603, last of the group. Poetry was
only part of his literary occupations, and literary work itself by no means
absorbed him. But his Erreurs Amoureuses, addressed to a certain Pasithée,
and other works, give him fair rank in the school. He has been erroneously
credited with the introduction of the sonnet into France, an honour which is
probably due, as has been more than once observed, to Saint Gelais. But if
he did not introduce the form, he at least contributed one of its most striking
examples in his beautiful Sonnet to 'Sleep,' a favourite subject of the age
both in France and England.
The Pléiade proper by no means monopolised all the poetical talent of the
period. Indeed, there can be no surer testimony to the real strength of the
movement than the universal adherence which was given to its methods by
those who were in no sense bound to it by personal connection. A second
Pléiade might be made up of members who had almost as much poetical
talent as the actual titular stars. Magny, Tahureau, Du Bartas, D'Aubigné,
Desportes, Bertaut, had each of them talent not far inferior to that of Du
Bellay and of Ronsard, and equal to that of the five minor members.
Garnier was immensely Jodelle's superior in his own line. Jamyn, Durant,
Passerat, the two La Tailles, Vauquelin de la Fresnaye, even La Boëtie, who
inventiveness of spirit are Baïf's chief merits.
The three remaining members of the group may be
disposed of more rapidly. Daurat, the eldest, and in a Daurat, Jodelle,
sense the master of all, was, as far as regards French Pontus de Tyard.
composition, the dark star of the Pléiade, for he wrote nothing of
importance in the vernacular. Jodelle was a voluminous writer, but his
dramatic importance so far exceeds his merely poetical value that he will be
best treated of when we come to discuss the Theatre of the Renaissance. A
somewhat curious instance of his poetical energy is to be found in his
unfinished, indeed hardly begun, Contre-Amours. All the rest had started
with a volume of verse in praise of some real or imaginary mistress, so
Jodelle determined to write one against an unkind lady. The seventh
member of the Pléiade, Pontus de Tyard, was the eldest save Daurat, the
longest-lived and the highest in station, while he was also in a way the most
original, having published his first book before the appearance of the
Défense et Illustration. He was born at Bissy, near Macon, and, having been
appointed Bishop of Chalon, died in 1603, last of the group. Poetry was
only part of his literary occupations, and literary work itself by no means
absorbed him. But his Erreurs Amoureuses, addressed to a certain Pasithée,
and other works, give him fair rank in the school. He has been erroneously
credited with the introduction of the sonnet into France, an honour which is
probably due, as has been more than once observed, to Saint Gelais. But if
he did not introduce the form, he at least contributed one of its most striking
examples in his beautiful Sonnet to 'Sleep,' a favourite subject of the age
both in France and England.
The Pléiade proper by no means monopolised all the poetical talent of the
period. Indeed, there can be no surer testimony to the real strength of the
movement than the universal adherence which was given to its methods by
those who were in no sense bound to it by personal connection. A second
Pléiade might be made up of members who had almost as much poetical
talent as the actual titular stars. Magny, Tahureau, Du Bartas, D'Aubigné,
Desportes, Bertaut, had each of them talent not far inferior to that of Du
Bellay and of Ronsard, and equal to that of the five minor members.
Garnier was immensely Jodelle's superior in his own line. Jamyn, Durant,
Passerat, the two La Tailles, Vauquelin de la Fresnaye, even La Boëtie, who
Page 241
had, as far as can be made out, far more vocation in poetry than in prose,
are names at least equal to those of Pontus de Tyard or Baïf. But they did
not form part of the energetic coterie who started and pushed the
movement, and so they have lacked the reputation which the combined and
successful effort of the Seven has given them. Yet Du Bartas is the one
French poet of the sixteenth century who wrote a poem on the great scale
with success, and D'Aubigné ranks with Regnier and Victor Hugo in the
strength and vigour of his verse.
Olivier de Magny[198] was a kind of petted child of the
Pléiade. His Amours are prefaced by commendatory Magny.
verses, among which compositions of four out of the
seven—Ronsard, Baïf, Belleau and Jodelle—figure, and he was as
strenuous in carrying out the recommendations of Du Bellay's Illustration
as any of the seven themselves. His Amours just mentioned, his Odes, his
Gayetés even, testify to the obedient admiration which young verse-writers
often show for the leading poets of their day. But there is no servile
imitation in Magny. His life was short, and the dates of its beginning and
ending are not exactly known, though he died in 1560. He was a lover of
Louise Labé, and was worthy of her, poetically speaking. He was born, like
Marot, at Cahors; he went to Rome, like many other literary men of his
time, on a diplomatic errand; and his works were all published between
1553 and his death. The Odes are the best of them; the Gayetés are light and
lively enough; and in both his volumes of sonnets, but especially in the
Soupirs, excellent examples of the form are to be found. Magny had a
strong feeling for the formal art of poetry, and it was thus natural that he
should eagerly embrace the gospel of Ronsard. But besides this, he had a
true poetical imagination, and a real command of poetical language. A
sonnet in dialogue, which greatly attracted the admiration of Colletet, the
historian of French poetry in the next age, is perhaps not much more than a
tour de force. But many of his other pieces show real feeling, and have a
certain youthfulness about them which suits well with the sentiments they
express, and the ardour of literary as well as amatory devotion which the
poet endeavours to convey.
Still younger and probably still more short-lived, but
superior as a poet, was Jacques Tahureau[199]. He was Tahureau.
born at Le Mans of a noble family, and died at the age of
are names at least equal to those of Pontus de Tyard or Baïf. But they did
not form part of the energetic coterie who started and pushed the
movement, and so they have lacked the reputation which the combined and
successful effort of the Seven has given them. Yet Du Bartas is the one
French poet of the sixteenth century who wrote a poem on the great scale
with success, and D'Aubigné ranks with Regnier and Victor Hugo in the
strength and vigour of his verse.
Olivier de Magny[198] was a kind of petted child of the
Pléiade. His Amours are prefaced by commendatory Magny.
verses, among which compositions of four out of the
seven—Ronsard, Baïf, Belleau and Jodelle—figure, and he was as
strenuous in carrying out the recommendations of Du Bellay's Illustration
as any of the seven themselves. His Amours just mentioned, his Odes, his
Gayetés even, testify to the obedient admiration which young verse-writers
often show for the leading poets of their day. But there is no servile
imitation in Magny. His life was short, and the dates of its beginning and
ending are not exactly known, though he died in 1560. He was a lover of
Louise Labé, and was worthy of her, poetically speaking. He was born, like
Marot, at Cahors; he went to Rome, like many other literary men of his
time, on a diplomatic errand; and his works were all published between
1553 and his death. The Odes are the best of them; the Gayetés are light and
lively enough; and in both his volumes of sonnets, but especially in the
Soupirs, excellent examples of the form are to be found. Magny had a
strong feeling for the formal art of poetry, and it was thus natural that he
should eagerly embrace the gospel of Ronsard. But besides this, he had a
true poetical imagination, and a real command of poetical language. A
sonnet in dialogue, which greatly attracted the admiration of Colletet, the
historian of French poetry in the next age, is perhaps not much more than a
tour de force. But many of his other pieces show real feeling, and have a
certain youthfulness about them which suits well with the sentiments they
express, and the ardour of literary as well as amatory devotion which the
poet endeavours to convey.
Still younger and probably still more short-lived, but
superior as a poet, was Jacques Tahureau[199]. He was Tahureau.
born at Le Mans of a noble family, and died at the age of
Page 242
twenty-eight. But his life, if short, was a happy one, and, like most of his
contemporaries, he published a volume of amatory sonnets under the title,
gracefully affected even for that age of graceful affectation, of Mignardises
Amoureuses de l'Admirée. Unlike many of the heroines of the Pléiade and
their satellites, who are either known or shrewdly suspected to have been
imaginary, the Admirée of Tahureau was a real person. What is more, he
married her, and they lived together for three years before his early death.
Before the Mignardises, he had published a Premier Recueil, and after them
he produced a third volume of odes, sonnets, etc. All three display the same
peculiarities, and these peculiarities are sufficiently remarkable. Tahureau
was named by the flattery and the classical fancies of his contemporaries
the French Catullus, and the parallel is not so rash as might be thought. It is
true that it came originally from Du Bellay in one of his satirical veins. But
a later poetical critic, Vauquelin de la Fresnaye, is more precise in his
description, and oddly enough uses the very term which was afterwards
applied in England to Shakespeare's youthful sonnets. Tahureau, he says:—
Nous affrianda tous au sucre de cet art.
The author of the Mignardises is indeed somewhat 'sugared' in his style of
writing; but there are genuine passion and genuine poetical feeling as well
in his verse. Of the minor poets of the time he is probably the best.
Before noticing the four remaining poets who have been
mentioned as occupying the highest places next to the Minor Ronsardists.
Pléiade itself, a brief review of the minor poets until the
end of the century may be given. Étienne de la Boëtie wrote poems which,
though they have some of the stiffness and a little of the hollowness of his
Contre-un, possess a certain grandeur of sentiment and a knack of diction
other than commonplace, which explain Montaigne's admiration. Claude
Buttet is chiefly remarkable for having made a curious attempt to combine
the classicism of the new school with the romanticism of the old. He wrote
Sapphics in rhyme, an idea sufficiently ingenious, but hardly successful. Yet
it is fair to remember that some of the varieties of Leonine verse lacked
neither force nor elegance. The truth is, that these classic metres are so alien
to all modern tongues, that, rhymed or unrhymed, they are doomed to
failure. Jean de la Péruse was, like Magny and Tahureau, a poet who died
before he had reached his term. At twenty-five few men have left lasting
contemporaries, he published a volume of amatory sonnets under the title,
gracefully affected even for that age of graceful affectation, of Mignardises
Amoureuses de l'Admirée. Unlike many of the heroines of the Pléiade and
their satellites, who are either known or shrewdly suspected to have been
imaginary, the Admirée of Tahureau was a real person. What is more, he
married her, and they lived together for three years before his early death.
Before the Mignardises, he had published a Premier Recueil, and after them
he produced a third volume of odes, sonnets, etc. All three display the same
peculiarities, and these peculiarities are sufficiently remarkable. Tahureau
was named by the flattery and the classical fancies of his contemporaries
the French Catullus, and the parallel is not so rash as might be thought. It is
true that it came originally from Du Bellay in one of his satirical veins. But
a later poetical critic, Vauquelin de la Fresnaye, is more precise in his
description, and oddly enough uses the very term which was afterwards
applied in England to Shakespeare's youthful sonnets. Tahureau, he says:—
Nous affrianda tous au sucre de cet art.
The author of the Mignardises is indeed somewhat 'sugared' in his style of
writing; but there are genuine passion and genuine poetical feeling as well
in his verse. Of the minor poets of the time he is probably the best.
Before noticing the four remaining poets who have been
mentioned as occupying the highest places next to the Minor Ronsardists.
Pléiade itself, a brief review of the minor poets until the
end of the century may be given. Étienne de la Boëtie wrote poems which,
though they have some of the stiffness and a little of the hollowness of his
Contre-un, possess a certain grandeur of sentiment and a knack of diction
other than commonplace, which explain Montaigne's admiration. Claude
Buttet is chiefly remarkable for having made a curious attempt to combine
the classicism of the new school with the romanticism of the old. He wrote
Sapphics in rhyme, an idea sufficiently ingenious, but hardly successful. Yet
it is fair to remember that some of the varieties of Leonine verse lacked
neither force nor elegance. The truth is, that these classic metres are so alien
to all modern tongues, that, rhymed or unrhymed, they are doomed to
failure. Jean de la Péruse was, like Magny and Tahureau, a poet who died
before he had reached his term. At twenty-five few men have left lasting
Page 243
works. Yet La Péruse not only produced a tragedy of some merit, but minor
poems promising more. Jean Doublet was a much older man, and is chiefly
noticeable as an example of the writers who, beginning with Marot, or even
with Crétin, and the Rhétoriqueurs for models, bowed to the overmastering
influence of the Pléiade. Docility of this kind, however, rarely promises
much poetical worth, and Doublet was not a great poet; but his poems,
which have had better fortune in the way of reprints than those of greater
men, show power of versification.
Amadis Jamyn was a somewhat more distinguished poet than those who
have just been mentioned. Born in 1540, he came to Paris, when the
triumph and supremacy of Ronsard was completely assured, and was taken
under the protection of the Prince of Poets. He was also honoured, as we
have seen, by being allowed to stand by the side of Ronsard, of Baïf, of
Desportes, at the funeral of Rémy Belleau. He translated the last twelve
books of the Iliad to complete Salel, and began a translation of the Odyssey;
besides which he wrote a poem on the Chase, another on Generosity, and,
like everybody else at the time, abundance of miscellaneous pieces. He was
a good scholar, and there was more ease in his verse than is usually to be
found in his contemporaries (save the greatest of them), who too often
allowed their classical studies to stiffen and starch their verse. Another
admirable poet, though of no great compass, was the dramatist Grévin. His
Villanesques, a modified form of the favourite Villanelle, which had
survived the other épiceries condemned by Du Bellay, are singularly
graceful and tender, epithets which are also applicable to his Baisers. The
brothers La Taille also, like Grévin, are chiefly known as dramatists. Jean
de la Taille, though but a boy of ten years old when the style Marotique was
swept out of fashion, had sufficient independence to compose blasons (and
very pretty ones) of the daisy and the rose. Others of his poems have
mediaeval forms or settings, but he imitated Ronsard in his Mort de Paris,
and Du Bellay in his Courtisan Retiré. The works of Jacques de la Taille,
who died young, were chiefly epigrams. Guy du Faur de Pibrac wrote moral
quatrains, which had a great vogue, and which in a way deserved it. Nicolas
Rapin was, with the exception of Passerat, the chief of the poets of the
Ménippée, a remarkable group, who will be noticed further when we come
to that singular production. But Passerat himself deserves more notice than
simply as a political satirist and a famous Latin scholar. Of all the poets of
poems promising more. Jean Doublet was a much older man, and is chiefly
noticeable as an example of the writers who, beginning with Marot, or even
with Crétin, and the Rhétoriqueurs for models, bowed to the overmastering
influence of the Pléiade. Docility of this kind, however, rarely promises
much poetical worth, and Doublet was not a great poet; but his poems,
which have had better fortune in the way of reprints than those of greater
men, show power of versification.
Amadis Jamyn was a somewhat more distinguished poet than those who
have just been mentioned. Born in 1540, he came to Paris, when the
triumph and supremacy of Ronsard was completely assured, and was taken
under the protection of the Prince of Poets. He was also honoured, as we
have seen, by being allowed to stand by the side of Ronsard, of Baïf, of
Desportes, at the funeral of Rémy Belleau. He translated the last twelve
books of the Iliad to complete Salel, and began a translation of the Odyssey;
besides which he wrote a poem on the Chase, another on Generosity, and,
like everybody else at the time, abundance of miscellaneous pieces. He was
a good scholar, and there was more ease in his verse than is usually to be
found in his contemporaries (save the greatest of them), who too often
allowed their classical studies to stiffen and starch their verse. Another
admirable poet, though of no great compass, was the dramatist Grévin. His
Villanesques, a modified form of the favourite Villanelle, which had
survived the other épiceries condemned by Du Bellay, are singularly
graceful and tender, epithets which are also applicable to his Baisers. The
brothers La Taille also, like Grévin, are chiefly known as dramatists. Jean
de la Taille, though but a boy of ten years old when the style Marotique was
swept out of fashion, had sufficient independence to compose blasons (and
very pretty ones) of the daisy and the rose. Others of his poems have
mediaeval forms or settings, but he imitated Ronsard in his Mort de Paris,
and Du Bellay in his Courtisan Retiré. The works of Jacques de la Taille,
who died young, were chiefly epigrams. Guy du Faur de Pibrac wrote moral
quatrains, which had a great vogue, and which in a way deserved it. Nicolas
Rapin was, with the exception of Passerat, the chief of the poets of the
Ménippée, a remarkable group, who will be noticed further when we come
to that singular production. But Passerat himself deserves more notice than
simply as a political satirist and a famous Latin scholar. Of all the poets of
Page 244
the sixteenth century before Regnier and after Marot, Passerat was the one
who possessed most comic talent. His works are full of little touches which
exhibit this, while at the same time he was a master of the graceful love of
poetry which imitation of the ancients had made fashionable. His Villanelle
'J'ai perdu ma Tourterelle' is probably the most elegant specimen of a
poetical trifle that the age produced, and has of late years attracted great
admiration. Vauquelin de la Fresnaye, a lawyer, the author of an Art of
Poetry, and of the first satires, so called, in French, had a good deal of
poetical power, which he expended chiefly on pastoral subjects; but
unfortunately his command of language and style was by no means always
equal to his command of fresh and agreeable imagery and sentiment.
Guillaume de Saluste du Bartas[200], the 'Protestant
Ronsard,' was born in 1544 at Montfort, near Auch, Du Bartas.
served Henry of Navarre in war and diplomacy, was
wounded at Ivry, and died of his wounds in 1590. His first work was Judith;
then followed La Première Semaine, and next Uranie, Le Triomphe de la
Foi, and the Seconde Semaine. He also wrote numerous smaller poems,
including one on the battle of Ivry. The 'First Week of Creation' is his
greatest and most famous work. It went through thirty editions in a few
years; was translated into English by Sylvester, gave not a little inspiration
to Milton, and was warmly admired by Goethe. Ronsard at first eagerly
welcomed Du Bartas; but his jealousy being aroused by the pretensions of
the Calvinist party to set up their poet as a rival to himself, he resented this
in an indignant and vigorous address to Daurat, which contains some very
just criticisms on Du Bartas. Nevertheless the merits of the latter are
extremely great, and his personage and work very interesting. It has been
said of him that he represents, in the first place, the extreme development of
the Ronsardising innovation; in the second place, the highest literary culture
attained by the French Calvinists. Inferior to D'Aubigné in knowledge of
the world, in the choice of subjects perennially interesting, and in terse
vigour of expression, Du Bartas was the superior of the great Protestant
satirist in picturesqueness, in imagination, and in facility of descriptive
power. The stately and gorgeous abundance of the vocabulary with which
the Hellenising and Latinising innovations of the Pléiade enriched the
French language supplied him with colours and material to work with, and
his own genius did the rest. His attempt to naturalise Greek compounds,
who possessed most comic talent. His works are full of little touches which
exhibit this, while at the same time he was a master of the graceful love of
poetry which imitation of the ancients had made fashionable. His Villanelle
'J'ai perdu ma Tourterelle' is probably the most elegant specimen of a
poetical trifle that the age produced, and has of late years attracted great
admiration. Vauquelin de la Fresnaye, a lawyer, the author of an Art of
Poetry, and of the first satires, so called, in French, had a good deal of
poetical power, which he expended chiefly on pastoral subjects; but
unfortunately his command of language and style was by no means always
equal to his command of fresh and agreeable imagery and sentiment.
Guillaume de Saluste du Bartas[200], the 'Protestant
Ronsard,' was born in 1544 at Montfort, near Auch, Du Bartas.
served Henry of Navarre in war and diplomacy, was
wounded at Ivry, and died of his wounds in 1590. His first work was Judith;
then followed La Première Semaine, and next Uranie, Le Triomphe de la
Foi, and the Seconde Semaine. He also wrote numerous smaller poems,
including one on the battle of Ivry. The 'First Week of Creation' is his
greatest and most famous work. It went through thirty editions in a few
years; was translated into English by Sylvester, gave not a little inspiration
to Milton, and was warmly admired by Goethe. Ronsard at first eagerly
welcomed Du Bartas; but his jealousy being aroused by the pretensions of
the Calvinist party to set up their poet as a rival to himself, he resented this
in an indignant and vigorous address to Daurat, which contains some very
just criticisms on Du Bartas. Nevertheless the merits of the latter are
extremely great, and his personage and work very interesting. It has been
said of him that he represents, in the first place, the extreme development of
the Ronsardising innovation; in the second place, the highest literary culture
attained by the French Calvinists. Inferior to D'Aubigné in knowledge of
the world, in the choice of subjects perennially interesting, and in terse
vigour of expression, Du Bartas was the superior of the great Protestant
satirist in picturesqueness, in imagination, and in facility of descriptive
power. The stately and gorgeous abundance of the vocabulary with which
the Hellenising and Latinising innovations of the Pléiade enriched the
French language supplied him with colours and material to work with, and
his own genius did the rest. His attempt to naturalise Greek compounds,
Page 245
such as 'Aime-Lyre,' 'Donne-Âme,' and the rest, has done him more harm
than anything else; but his combination of classical learning, with the varied
colour and vivid imagination of the middle age and the Renaissance, often
results in extraordinarily striking expressions. L'Eschine azurée, for
instance, is a singularly picturesque, if also somewhat barbaric,
reminiscence of ευρεα νωτα θαλασσης: the enforcement of the idea of hora
novissima tempora pessima in the four following lines is admirable:—
Nos exécrables mœurs, dedans Gomorrhe apprises,
Les troublées saisons, les civiles fureurs,
Les menaces du ciel, sont les avant-coureurs
De Christ, qui vient tenir ses dernières assises.
In such a passage again as the following, the power and simplicity of the
diction can escape no reader; the piling up of the strokes is worthy of Victor
Hugo:—
Les étoiles cherront. Le désordre, la nuict,
La frayeur, le trespas, la tempeste, le bruit,
Entreront en quartier.
All that was wanting to make Du Bartas a poet of the first rank was some
faculty of self-criticism; of natural verve and imagination as well as of
erudition he had no lack, but in critical faculty he seems to have been totally
deficient. His beauties, rare in kind and not small in amount, are alloyed
with vast quantities of dull absurdity.
Agrippa d'Aubigné[201] was a few years Du Bartas'
junior, and long outlived him. He was an important D'Aubigné.
prose-writer as well as poet, and his long life was as full
of interesting events as of literary occupations. At six Desportes.
years old he read Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; a year or
two later his father made him swear, in presence of the gibbeted corpses of
the unsuccessful conspirators of Amboise, to revenge their death. Shortly
afterwards he narrowly escaped the stake. For a time he dwelt with Henry
of Navarre at the court of Charles IX., and there thoroughly imbued himself
with the Ronsardising tradition. But he soon escaped with his master, and
for years was a Calvinist irreconcileable, always for war to the knife, and as
than anything else; but his combination of classical learning, with the varied
colour and vivid imagination of the middle age and the Renaissance, often
results in extraordinarily striking expressions. L'Eschine azurée, for
instance, is a singularly picturesque, if also somewhat barbaric,
reminiscence of ευρεα νωτα θαλασσης: the enforcement of the idea of hora
novissima tempora pessima in the four following lines is admirable:—
Nos exécrables mœurs, dedans Gomorrhe apprises,
Les troublées saisons, les civiles fureurs,
Les menaces du ciel, sont les avant-coureurs
De Christ, qui vient tenir ses dernières assises.
In such a passage again as the following, the power and simplicity of the
diction can escape no reader; the piling up of the strokes is worthy of Victor
Hugo:—
Les étoiles cherront. Le désordre, la nuict,
La frayeur, le trespas, la tempeste, le bruit,
Entreront en quartier.
All that was wanting to make Du Bartas a poet of the first rank was some
faculty of self-criticism; of natural verve and imagination as well as of
erudition he had no lack, but in critical faculty he seems to have been totally
deficient. His beauties, rare in kind and not small in amount, are alloyed
with vast quantities of dull absurdity.
Agrippa d'Aubigné[201] was a few years Du Bartas'
junior, and long outlived him. He was an important D'Aubigné.
prose-writer as well as poet, and his long life was as full
of interesting events as of literary occupations. At six Desportes.
years old he read Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; a year or
two later his father made him swear, in presence of the gibbeted corpses of
the unsuccessful conspirators of Amboise, to revenge their death. Shortly
afterwards he narrowly escaped the stake. For a time he dwelt with Henry
of Navarre at the court of Charles IX., and there thoroughly imbued himself
with the Ronsardising tradition. But he soon escaped with his master, and
for years was a Calvinist irreconcileable, always for war to the knife, and as
Page 246
rude and bold in the council chamber as in the field. The death of his master
was unfortunate for D'Aubigné; but, though he at first opposed the regency
of Marie de Medicis, he made terms for himself. The publication, however,
of his 'History' brought enemies on him, and he fled to Geneva, finishing
his days there. His prose works are too numerous to mention separately: the
chief besides his histories are the Confession de Sancy and the Aventures du
Baron de Fæneste, both satirical in character and full of vigour. He began as
a poet by poems in the lighter Pléiade style, but his masterpiece is the
strange work called Les Tragiques. This consists of seven books, amounting
to not much less than ten thousand lines, and entitled Misères, Princes, La
Chambre Dorée, Les Feux, Les Fers, Vengeance, Jugement. The poem is
half historical and half satirical, dealing with the religious wars, the
persecution of the Huguenots, the abuses of the administration, and of
contemporary manners, etc. Nothing equal to the best verses of this singular
book had yet been seen in France, and not much equal to them has been
produced since. The tone of sombre and impressive declamation had been
to some extent anticipated by Du Bartas, but chiefly for purposes of
description. D'Aubigné turned it to its natural use in invective, and the
effect is often extraordinarily fine. Very copious citation would be
necessary to show its excellence: but before Victor Hugo there is nothing in
French equal to D'Aubigné at his best in point of clangour of sound and
impetuosity of rhythm. It is noteworthy that Du Bartas' Semaine, with the
Tragiques and the tragedies of Garnier, finally established the Alexandrine
as the indispensable metre for serious and impassioned poetry in France.
Hitherto the decasyllable and the dodecasyllable had been used
indiscriminately, and Ronsard's Franciade is written in the former. But after
the three poets just mentioned, the Alexandrine became invariable; the
decasyllable being left for light and occasional work, as a sort of medium in
usage as in bulk between the Alexandrine and the octosyllable. The truth is
that, until the improvements of language and style which the Pléiade had
introduced, the Alexandrine couplet had not had either suppleness or dignity
enough for the work. It was lumbering and disjointed. As soon, however, as
the classical turn, inseparable from a specially classical metre, had been
given to the language, it at once took its place and has ever since kept it,
though in the century succeeding it was deprived of much of its force by
arbitrary rules. The lines of Boileau condemning Ronsard[202] have
inseparably connected Desportes and Bertaut, and have given them a
was unfortunate for D'Aubigné; but, though he at first opposed the regency
of Marie de Medicis, he made terms for himself. The publication, however,
of his 'History' brought enemies on him, and he fled to Geneva, finishing
his days there. His prose works are too numerous to mention separately: the
chief besides his histories are the Confession de Sancy and the Aventures du
Baron de Fæneste, both satirical in character and full of vigour. He began as
a poet by poems in the lighter Pléiade style, but his masterpiece is the
strange work called Les Tragiques. This consists of seven books, amounting
to not much less than ten thousand lines, and entitled Misères, Princes, La
Chambre Dorée, Les Feux, Les Fers, Vengeance, Jugement. The poem is
half historical and half satirical, dealing with the religious wars, the
persecution of the Huguenots, the abuses of the administration, and of
contemporary manners, etc. Nothing equal to the best verses of this singular
book had yet been seen in France, and not much equal to them has been
produced since. The tone of sombre and impressive declamation had been
to some extent anticipated by Du Bartas, but chiefly for purposes of
description. D'Aubigné turned it to its natural use in invective, and the
effect is often extraordinarily fine. Very copious citation would be
necessary to show its excellence: but before Victor Hugo there is nothing in
French equal to D'Aubigné at his best in point of clangour of sound and
impetuosity of rhythm. It is noteworthy that Du Bartas' Semaine, with the
Tragiques and the tragedies of Garnier, finally established the Alexandrine
as the indispensable metre for serious and impassioned poetry in France.
Hitherto the decasyllable and the dodecasyllable had been used
indiscriminately, and Ronsard's Franciade is written in the former. But after
the three poets just mentioned, the Alexandrine became invariable; the
decasyllable being left for light and occasional work, as a sort of medium in
usage as in bulk between the Alexandrine and the octosyllable. The truth is
that, until the improvements of language and style which the Pléiade had
introduced, the Alexandrine couplet had not had either suppleness or dignity
enough for the work. It was lumbering and disjointed. As soon, however, as
the classical turn, inseparable from a specially classical metre, had been
given to the language, it at once took its place and has ever since kept it,
though in the century succeeding it was deprived of much of its force by
arbitrary rules. The lines of Boileau condemning Ronsard[202] have
inseparably connected Desportes and Bertaut, and have given them a
Page 247
position in literary history which is as intrinsically inaccurate as it is unduly
high. Neither approaches Du Bartas or D'Aubigné in poetical excellence or
in adroit carrying out of Ronsardism. But neither was in the least made
retenu by Ronsard's failure, and it did not enter the head of themselves or
any of their contemporaries, till their last days, that Ronsard had failed.
Philippe Desportes[203] was a very unclerical cleric, a successful courtier
and diplomatist, a great favourite with the ladies of the court. He was also a
poet of little vigour, but of great sweetness, much elegance of style and
form, and extraordinary neatness, if not originality, of expression. With
Jamyn he was the most prominent of Ronsard's own particular disciples.
His poetical works are sharply divided, like those of Herrick and Donne and
some other poets, on the one hand, into poems of a very mundane character,
collections of sonnets after the Pléiade fashion to real or imaginary
heroines, celebrations of the ladies and the mignons of the court of Henri
III., imitations of Italian verse, and the like; on the other, into devotional
poems, which include some translations of the Psalms of not a little merit.
Personally Desportes appears to have been a self-seeker and a sycophant;
not without good nature, but covetous, intriguing, corrupt, given to base
compliances. He was Du Bellay's poëte courtisan in the worst sense of the
phrase[204]. But working at leisure and with care, and undistracted by any
literary or sentimental enthusiasm, he found means to give to his work a
polish and correctness which many of his contemporaries of greater talent
did not, or could not, give. In this fact the explanation of Boileau's
commendation—for it is no doubt meant, relatively speaking, for
commendation—is probably to be found.
Jean Bertaut was, to use a metaphor frequently
employed in literary history, the 'moon' of Desportes. Bertaut.
Like him, he is a poet rather elegant than vigorous,
rather correct than spirited. Like him, he wrote light verse and devotional
poems, and, as in the case of Desportes, the religious poems are—rather
contrary to the reader's expectation—the best of the two. His work,
however, was even more limited in amount than that of his contemporary.
FOOTNOTES:
high. Neither approaches Du Bartas or D'Aubigné in poetical excellence or
in adroit carrying out of Ronsardism. But neither was in the least made
retenu by Ronsard's failure, and it did not enter the head of themselves or
any of their contemporaries, till their last days, that Ronsard had failed.
Philippe Desportes[203] was a very unclerical cleric, a successful courtier
and diplomatist, a great favourite with the ladies of the court. He was also a
poet of little vigour, but of great sweetness, much elegance of style and
form, and extraordinary neatness, if not originality, of expression. With
Jamyn he was the most prominent of Ronsard's own particular disciples.
His poetical works are sharply divided, like those of Herrick and Donne and
some other poets, on the one hand, into poems of a very mundane character,
collections of sonnets after the Pléiade fashion to real or imaginary
heroines, celebrations of the ladies and the mignons of the court of Henri
III., imitations of Italian verse, and the like; on the other, into devotional
poems, which include some translations of the Psalms of not a little merit.
Personally Desportes appears to have been a self-seeker and a sycophant;
not without good nature, but covetous, intriguing, corrupt, given to base
compliances. He was Du Bellay's poëte courtisan in the worst sense of the
phrase[204]. But working at leisure and with care, and undistracted by any
literary or sentimental enthusiasm, he found means to give to his work a
polish and correctness which many of his contemporaries of greater talent
did not, or could not, give. In this fact the explanation of Boileau's
commendation—for it is no doubt meant, relatively speaking, for
commendation—is probably to be found.
Jean Bertaut was, to use a metaphor frequently
employed in literary history, the 'moon' of Desportes. Bertaut.
Like him, he is a poet rather elegant than vigorous,
rather correct than spirited. Like him, he wrote light verse and devotional
poems, and, as in the case of Desportes, the religious poems are—rather
contrary to the reader's expectation—the best of the two. His work,
however, was even more limited in amount than that of his contemporary.
FOOTNOTES:
Page 248
[192] The list is sometimes given rather differently; instead of Jodelle and
Pontus de Tyard, Scévole de St. Marthe and Muretus are substituted. But the
enumeration in the text is the accepted one.
[193] Ed. Blanchemain. 8 vols. Paris, 1857-67.
[194] The term usually applied to him by contemporaries.
[195] Ed. Marty-Laveaux. 2 vols. Paris, 1866-7.
[196] Ed. Gouverneur. 3 vols. Paris, 1866.
[197] Not recently re-edited in full. In selection by Becq de Fouquières. Paris,
1874.
[198] Recently edited in 5 vols. by Courbet. Paris, v. d.
[199] Ed. Blanchemain. 2 vols. Geneva, 1869.
[200] Du Bartas, always unjustly treated in France, probably from a curious
tradition of mingled sectarian and literary jealousy, has not been reprinted of late
years. The edition used is that of 1610-1611. Paris, 2 vols, folio.
[201] Ed. Réaume and de Caussade. Vols. 1-4. Paris, 1873-7. There is another
volume to follow.
[202] Here are these celebrated lines:—
Ronsard, qui le suivit, par une autre méthode
Réglant tout, brouilla tout, fit un art à sa mode,
Et toutefois longtemps eut un heureux destin.
Mais sa muse en Français parlant Grec et Latin
Vit dans l'âge suivant, par un retour grotesque,
Tomber de ses grands mots le faste pédantesque.
Ce poète orgueilleux, trébuché de si haut,
Rendit puis retenus Desportes et Bertaut.
Art Poét., Chant i.
[203] Ed. Michiels. Paris, 1858.
[204] He was not a courtier for nothing. He held numerous abbacies, and Charles
IX. is said to have given him 800 gold pieces, Henri III. 10,000 crowns of silver,
in each case for a poetical offering of very small bulk.
Pontus de Tyard, Scévole de St. Marthe and Muretus are substituted. But the
enumeration in the text is the accepted one.
[193] Ed. Blanchemain. 8 vols. Paris, 1857-67.
[194] The term usually applied to him by contemporaries.
[195] Ed. Marty-Laveaux. 2 vols. Paris, 1866-7.
[196] Ed. Gouverneur. 3 vols. Paris, 1866.
[197] Not recently re-edited in full. In selection by Becq de Fouquières. Paris,
1874.
[198] Recently edited in 5 vols. by Courbet. Paris, v. d.
[199] Ed. Blanchemain. 2 vols. Geneva, 1869.
[200] Du Bartas, always unjustly treated in France, probably from a curious
tradition of mingled sectarian and literary jealousy, has not been reprinted of late
years. The edition used is that of 1610-1611. Paris, 2 vols, folio.
[201] Ed. Réaume and de Caussade. Vols. 1-4. Paris, 1873-7. There is another
volume to follow.
[202] Here are these celebrated lines:—
Ronsard, qui le suivit, par une autre méthode
Réglant tout, brouilla tout, fit un art à sa mode,
Et toutefois longtemps eut un heureux destin.
Mais sa muse en Français parlant Grec et Latin
Vit dans l'âge suivant, par un retour grotesque,
Tomber de ses grands mots le faste pédantesque.
Ce poète orgueilleux, trébuché de si haut,
Rendit puis retenus Desportes et Bertaut.
Art Poét., Chant i.
[203] Ed. Michiels. Paris, 1858.
[204] He was not a courtier for nothing. He held numerous abbacies, and Charles
IX. is said to have given him 800 gold pieces, Henri III. 10,000 crowns of silver,
in each case for a poetical offering of very small bulk.
Page 249
CHAPTER V.
THE THEATRE FROM GRINGORE TO GARNIER.
It so happened that the mediaeval theatre closed, as far
as its exclusive possession of the stage is concerned, Gringore.
with one of the most remarkable of all its writers. Pierre
Gringore[205], who towards the close of his career preferred the spelling
Gringoire, was a Norman by birth. His poetical and dramatic capacity has
been considerably exaggerated by the learned but crotchety scholar who
was at first charged with the joint editorship of his works in the
Bibliothèque Elzévirienne. But, when the hyperboles of M. Charles
d'Héricault are reduced to their simplest terms, Gringore remains a
remarkable figure. It is to him that we owe the only complete and really
noteworthy tetralogy, composed of cry, sotie, morality, and farce, which
exists to show the final result of the mediaeval play—the Jeu du Prince des
Sots. To him is also due the most remarkable of the sixteenth-century
mysteries, that of Saint Louis; and his miscellaneous poems, as yet not fully
collected, show us a man of letters possessed of no small faculty for
miscellaneous work. Gringore first emerges as a pamphleteer in verse, on
the side of the policy of Louis XII. He held the important position of mère
sotte in the company of persons who charged themselves with playing the
sotie, and Louis perceived the advantages which he might gain by enlisting
such a writer on his side. Gringore's early works are allegorical poems of
the kind which the increasing admiration of the Roman de la Rose, joined to
the practice of the Rhétoriqueurs, had made fashionable in France; but they
are directly political in tone, and an undercurrent of dramatic intention is
always manifest in them. Les folles Entreprises is a very remarkable work.
It might be described as a series of monologues of the kind usual and
already described, but continuous, and having the independent parts bound
to each other by speeches of the author in propria persona. The titles of the
separate sections—L'Entreprise des folz Orgueilleux, Réflexions de l'Auteur
sur la Guerre d'Italie, le Blason de Pratique, Balade et Supplication à la
Vierge Marie (et se peult Interpréter sur la Royne de France), etc.—explain
THE THEATRE FROM GRINGORE TO GARNIER.
It so happened that the mediaeval theatre closed, as far
as its exclusive possession of the stage is concerned, Gringore.
with one of the most remarkable of all its writers. Pierre
Gringore[205], who towards the close of his career preferred the spelling
Gringoire, was a Norman by birth. His poetical and dramatic capacity has
been considerably exaggerated by the learned but crotchety scholar who
was at first charged with the joint editorship of his works in the
Bibliothèque Elzévirienne. But, when the hyperboles of M. Charles
d'Héricault are reduced to their simplest terms, Gringore remains a
remarkable figure. It is to him that we owe the only complete and really
noteworthy tetralogy, composed of cry, sotie, morality, and farce, which
exists to show the final result of the mediaeval play—the Jeu du Prince des
Sots. To him is also due the most remarkable of the sixteenth-century
mysteries, that of Saint Louis; and his miscellaneous poems, as yet not fully
collected, show us a man of letters possessed of no small faculty for
miscellaneous work. Gringore first emerges as a pamphleteer in verse, on
the side of the policy of Louis XII. He held the important position of mère
sotte in the company of persons who charged themselves with playing the
sotie, and Louis perceived the advantages which he might gain by enlisting
such a writer on his side. Gringore's early works are allegorical poems of
the kind which the increasing admiration of the Roman de la Rose, joined to
the practice of the Rhétoriqueurs, had made fashionable in France; but they
are directly political in tone, and an undercurrent of dramatic intention is
always manifest in them. Les folles Entreprises is a very remarkable work.
It might be described as a series of monologues of the kind usual and
already described, but continuous, and having the independent parts bound
to each other by speeches of the author in propria persona. The titles of the
separate sections—L'Entreprise des folz Orgueilleux, Réflexions de l'Auteur
sur la Guerre d'Italie, le Blason de Pratique, Balade et Supplication à la
Vierge Marie (et se peult Interpréter sur la Royne de France), etc.—explain
Page 250
the plan of this curious book as well as any laboured analysis could do. The
author takes what he considers to be the chief grievances in Church and
State, and dilates upon them in the manner, half moralising, half allegoric,
which was popular. An argument of Les folles Entreprises would, however,
require considerable space. It enters into the most recondite theological
questions, and of its general tone the heading of the last chapter tells as
good a story as anything else can do: 'Comme le très-chrestien roy et Justice
relevent Foy qui estait abattu par Richesse et Papelardise.' Other works of
the same semi-dramatic, semi-poetical kind are even more directly political
in substance: Les Entreprises de Venise; La Chasse du Cerf des Cerfs (Pope
Julius), etc. Sometimes, as in La Coqueluche, the author becomes a simple
chronicler describing incidents of his time. Indeed it would hardly be an
exaggeration to describe Gringore's work as the result of a kind of groping
after journalism condemned by the circumstances of the time to the most
awkward and inappropriate form. In his definitely dramatic work the same
practical tendency reappears. The tetralogy is of a directly politico-social
kind. The cry, a summons in ironical terms to sots of all kinds to come and
hear their lesson; the sotie, an audacious satire on the state of things; the
morality, in which the very names of the personages—Peuple François,
Peuple Italique, Divine Pungnicion, etc.—speak for themselves, all show
this tendency; and even the bonne bouche at the end, the farce (which is
altogether too Rabelaisian in subject for description here), seems to
illustrate the motto—a very practical one—'Il faut cultiver son jardin.' Less
directly the same purpose can be traced in the Mystère de Monseigneur
Saint Loys. This is a picture of the ideal patriot king doing judgment and
justice, and serving God by his voyages over sea, and his punishments of
blasphemers and loose livers at home.
The first two quarters, and especially the first quarter, of
the century contributed plentifully to the list of The last Age of the
mysteries, moralities, and farces. The dates of the latter Mediaeval Theatre.
are not easy to ascertain, and it is probable that most of them are older than
the present period. The taste for very lengthy mysteries and moralities,
however, had by no means died out, and some of the mysteries, notably
those of Antoine Chevallet, are of considerable merit. To the sixteenth
century too belongs what is probably the longest of all moralities, that on
author takes what he considers to be the chief grievances in Church and
State, and dilates upon them in the manner, half moralising, half allegoric,
which was popular. An argument of Les folles Entreprises would, however,
require considerable space. It enters into the most recondite theological
questions, and of its general tone the heading of the last chapter tells as
good a story as anything else can do: 'Comme le très-chrestien roy et Justice
relevent Foy qui estait abattu par Richesse et Papelardise.' Other works of
the same semi-dramatic, semi-poetical kind are even more directly political
in substance: Les Entreprises de Venise; La Chasse du Cerf des Cerfs (Pope
Julius), etc. Sometimes, as in La Coqueluche, the author becomes a simple
chronicler describing incidents of his time. Indeed it would hardly be an
exaggeration to describe Gringore's work as the result of a kind of groping
after journalism condemned by the circumstances of the time to the most
awkward and inappropriate form. In his definitely dramatic work the same
practical tendency reappears. The tetralogy is of a directly politico-social
kind. The cry, a summons in ironical terms to sots of all kinds to come and
hear their lesson; the sotie, an audacious satire on the state of things; the
morality, in which the very names of the personages—Peuple François,
Peuple Italique, Divine Pungnicion, etc.—speak for themselves, all show
this tendency; and even the bonne bouche at the end, the farce (which is
altogether too Rabelaisian in subject for description here), seems to
illustrate the motto—a very practical one—'Il faut cultiver son jardin.' Less
directly the same purpose can be traced in the Mystère de Monseigneur
Saint Loys. This is a picture of the ideal patriot king doing judgment and
justice, and serving God by his voyages over sea, and his punishments of
blasphemers and loose livers at home.
The first two quarters, and especially the first quarter, of
the century contributed plentifully to the list of The last Age of the
mysteries, moralities, and farces. The dates of the latter Mediaeval Theatre.
are not easy to ascertain, and it is probable that most of them are older than
the present period. The taste for very lengthy mysteries and moralities,
however, had by no means died out, and some of the mysteries, notably
those of Antoine Chevallet, are of considerable merit. To the sixteenth
century too belongs what is probably the longest of all moralities, that on
Page 251
The Just and Unjust Man, which contains 36,000 lines, besides the Mundus,
Caro, et Daemonia, and the Condamnation de Banquet already described.
This school was continued, though under some difficulties, until a late
period of the century. It had two things in its favour; it was extremely
popular, and it lent itself, far more than the stately rival soon to be
discussed, to the political and social uses which had long been associated
with the stage in the mind of audiences. In Beza's tragedy of Abraham
Sacrifiant, a kind of union takes place between the two styles. But even the
triumph of the Pléiade did not at once abolish the mysteries which were still
legal in the provinces, which had a strong hold on the fancy of the
populace, and which some men of letters who were themselves much
indebted to the new movement, notably Vauquelin de la Fresnaye, upheld
with pen as well as with tongue. Thomas Le Coq, a beneficed clerk of
Falaise, wrote a really remarkable play, Cain, of the purest mystery kind, in
1580; and the troubles of the League brought forth a large number of pieces
which approached much nearer to the mediaeval drama, and especially to
the mediaeval drama in the form which Gringore had given it, than to the
model of Jodelle.
It was, however, this model which had the seeds of life
in it, and which was destined to serve as the pattern for Beginnings of the
the French drama of the future. In the manifesto of the Classical Drama.
Pléiade Du Bellay gave especial prominence to the drama among the
literary kinds, in which French had need of strengthening from classical
sources. The classical tragedy in the classical language, and even in
translation, was already no stranger to French audiences, and the principle
of constructing modern vernacular plays on the same model had become
familiar to the upper and learned classes by the practice of the Italians, with
which they had become acquainted, partly through the numerous visits,
friendly and hostile, paid by Frenchmen to Italy in the early years of the
sixteenth century, partly through the reproduction of these Italian plays at
the courts of Francis I. and Henri II. This reproduction of foreign work was
not confined to the court, for in 1548 the town of Lyons greeted Catherine
de Medicis with an Italian play acted by an Italian company. As for
translations of classical drama, Lazare de Baïf translated the Electra as
early as 1537, and Buchanan, Muretus, and others composed Latin plays for
their pupils to act. In all these plays, Latin, Italian, and French-translation,
Caro, et Daemonia, and the Condamnation de Banquet already described.
This school was continued, though under some difficulties, until a late
period of the century. It had two things in its favour; it was extremely
popular, and it lent itself, far more than the stately rival soon to be
discussed, to the political and social uses which had long been associated
with the stage in the mind of audiences. In Beza's tragedy of Abraham
Sacrifiant, a kind of union takes place between the two styles. But even the
triumph of the Pléiade did not at once abolish the mysteries which were still
legal in the provinces, which had a strong hold on the fancy of the
populace, and which some men of letters who were themselves much
indebted to the new movement, notably Vauquelin de la Fresnaye, upheld
with pen as well as with tongue. Thomas Le Coq, a beneficed clerk of
Falaise, wrote a really remarkable play, Cain, of the purest mystery kind, in
1580; and the troubles of the League brought forth a large number of pieces
which approached much nearer to the mediaeval drama, and especially to
the mediaeval drama in the form which Gringore had given it, than to the
model of Jodelle.
It was, however, this model which had the seeds of life
in it, and which was destined to serve as the pattern for Beginnings of the
the French drama of the future. In the manifesto of the Classical Drama.
Pléiade Du Bellay gave especial prominence to the drama among the
literary kinds, in which French had need of strengthening from classical
sources. The classical tragedy in the classical language, and even in
translation, was already no stranger to French audiences, and the principle
of constructing modern vernacular plays on the same model had become
familiar to the upper and learned classes by the practice of the Italians, with
which they had become acquainted, partly through the numerous visits,
friendly and hostile, paid by Frenchmen to Italy in the early years of the
sixteenth century, partly through the reproduction of these Italian plays at
the courts of Francis I. and Henri II. This reproduction of foreign work was
not confined to the court, for in 1548 the town of Lyons greeted Catherine
de Medicis with an Italian play acted by an Italian company. As for
translations of classical drama, Lazare de Baïf translated the Electra as
early as 1537, and Buchanan, Muretus, and others composed Latin plays for
their pupils to act. In all these plays, Latin, Italian, and French-translation,
Page 252
the influence of the tragedian Seneca was paramount, and this influence
made an enduring mark on the future drama of France. Greek, though it was
ardently studied, was, from the purely literary point of view, little
comprehended by the French humanists, and of the three tragedians
Euripides was the only one who made much impression upon them. Seneca,
as the only extant Latin tragedian, had a monopoly of the classical language
which they understood best and revered most heartily. His model was also
peculiarly imitable. The paucity of action, the strict observation of certain
easily observable rules, the regular and harmonious but easily
comprehensible system of his choruses, the declamatory style and strong
ethical temper of his sentiments, all appealed to the French Renaissance.
Within a year or two from the time when Du Bellay had sounded the note of
innovation, Jodelle answered the summons with a tragedy and a comedy at
the same time.
Étienne Jodelle[206], Seigneur de Lymodin, was one of
the youngest of Ronsard's fellows. He was born at Paris Jodelle.
in 1532, and was thus barely twenty years old when, in
1552, he founded at once modern French tragedy with his Cléopâtre, and
modern French comedy with his Eugène. The representation was a great
success, and obtained for the author from the King, Henri II., besides many
compliments, the sum of five hundred crowns. The success of the plays also
brought about an incident famous in French literary history of the anecdotic
kind. The seven determined to celebrate the occasion by a country
excursion, and on the way to Arcueil they unluckily met a flock of goats.
Deeply imbued as they all were with classical fancies, it was almost
inevitable that the idea of a Dionysiac festival should strike them, and a
goat was caught, crowned with flowers and solemnly paraded, Ronsard
himself officiating as the god. This harmless freak was represented by the
zealots of the time as an impious pagan orgie, in which the goat had been
actually sacrificed to a false god, and the reputation of the brotherhood sank
almost equally with Catholics and Protestants. Six years after, Jodelle
produced his second tragedy, Didon, also with great success. But he was not
a fortunate person. The miscarriage of a pageant of which he had the
direction alienated the favour of the court from him, and he was too proud
or too careless to solicit its grace. He was a loose and reckless liver, and
receives from Pierre de l'Estoile a character which very probably is unduly
made an enduring mark on the future drama of France. Greek, though it was
ardently studied, was, from the purely literary point of view, little
comprehended by the French humanists, and of the three tragedians
Euripides was the only one who made much impression upon them. Seneca,
as the only extant Latin tragedian, had a monopoly of the classical language
which they understood best and revered most heartily. His model was also
peculiarly imitable. The paucity of action, the strict observation of certain
easily observable rules, the regular and harmonious but easily
comprehensible system of his choruses, the declamatory style and strong
ethical temper of his sentiments, all appealed to the French Renaissance.
Within a year or two from the time when Du Bellay had sounded the note of
innovation, Jodelle answered the summons with a tragedy and a comedy at
the same time.
Étienne Jodelle[206], Seigneur de Lymodin, was one of
the youngest of Ronsard's fellows. He was born at Paris Jodelle.
in 1532, and was thus barely twenty years old when, in
1552, he founded at once modern French tragedy with his Cléopâtre, and
modern French comedy with his Eugène. The representation was a great
success, and obtained for the author from the King, Henri II., besides many
compliments, the sum of five hundred crowns. The success of the plays also
brought about an incident famous in French literary history of the anecdotic
kind. The seven determined to celebrate the occasion by a country
excursion, and on the way to Arcueil they unluckily met a flock of goats.
Deeply imbued as they all were with classical fancies, it was almost
inevitable that the idea of a Dionysiac festival should strike them, and a
goat was caught, crowned with flowers and solemnly paraded, Ronsard
himself officiating as the god. This harmless freak was represented by the
zealots of the time as an impious pagan orgie, in which the goat had been
actually sacrificed to a false god, and the reputation of the brotherhood sank
almost equally with Catholics and Protestants. Six years after, Jodelle
produced his second tragedy, Didon, also with great success. But he was not
a fortunate person. The miscarriage of a pageant of which he had the
direction alienated the favour of the court from him, and he was too proud
or too careless to solicit its grace. He was a loose and reckless liver, and
receives from Pierre de l'Estoile a character which very probably is unduly
Page 253
harsh. However this may be, he died at the age of forty, indigent and ruined
in constitution. His literary activity was great, but only a small part of his
work survives, and his three plays are the only important portion of this.
The comedy has some impression of classical study, though very much less
than the two tragedies. It is, unlike the indigenous farce, divided regularly
into acts and scenes; it is much longer than the native comedy, and some of
the characters show, though faintly and at a distance, some traces of a
reading of Terence. But it retains the octosyllabic metre, and its general
scheme, despite a somewhat greater involution of plot and multiplicity of
characters, is that of a farce. Eugène, the hero, a rich and luxurious
churchman, is in love with Alix, whom, to save appearances, he has married
to a wittol of the name of Guillaume. Alix, however, has several other
lovers, among whom is Florimond a soldier, the rejected suitor of Hélène,
Eugène's sister. These personages are completed by Maître Jean, the abbé's
chaplain and general factotum, a creditor of Guillaume's, some servants of
the soldier Florimond, etc. The plot is very simple, consisting of hardly
anything but the return of Florimond from the wars, and his wrath at
discovering Alix's relations not merely with Guillaume but with Eugène. He
is finally made happy with Hélène. Alix takes the wise resolution to be less
prodigal of her affections, and the play ends. Some detached passages,
especially the opening scene, in which the lazy, dissolute life of wealthy
churchmen is very pointedly satirised, are amusing enough, and the
characters of the chaplain and the husband are not far from la vraie
comédie. The tragedies are indirectly of more importance, but intrinsically
much duller reading. Instead, however, of cleaving, as Eugène does, closely
to the lines of the existing drama, the innovation in them is of the boldest
kind. The octosyllabic verse, hitherto sacred to drama, is exchanged in
Cléopâtre for a mixture of the decasyllabic and the Alexandrine, some
scenes being written in the one, others in the other. Nor is the tentative
character of the work only thus indicated; for the rhymes follow different
systems in the different scenes. In Didon, however, Jodelle settled down to
the unbroken Alexandrine with alternation of masculine and feminine
rhymes, which has remained the standard vehicle of French tragedy ever
since. His general scheme follows that of Seneca closely, and his choruses
are written in stanzas of short verses regularly arranged. The matter of both
plays is taken with tolerable exactness, in the one case from Plutarch, in the
in constitution. His literary activity was great, but only a small part of his
work survives, and his three plays are the only important portion of this.
The comedy has some impression of classical study, though very much less
than the two tragedies. It is, unlike the indigenous farce, divided regularly
into acts and scenes; it is much longer than the native comedy, and some of
the characters show, though faintly and at a distance, some traces of a
reading of Terence. But it retains the octosyllabic metre, and its general
scheme, despite a somewhat greater involution of plot and multiplicity of
characters, is that of a farce. Eugène, the hero, a rich and luxurious
churchman, is in love with Alix, whom, to save appearances, he has married
to a wittol of the name of Guillaume. Alix, however, has several other
lovers, among whom is Florimond a soldier, the rejected suitor of Hélène,
Eugène's sister. These personages are completed by Maître Jean, the abbé's
chaplain and general factotum, a creditor of Guillaume's, some servants of
the soldier Florimond, etc. The plot is very simple, consisting of hardly
anything but the return of Florimond from the wars, and his wrath at
discovering Alix's relations not merely with Guillaume but with Eugène. He
is finally made happy with Hélène. Alix takes the wise resolution to be less
prodigal of her affections, and the play ends. Some detached passages,
especially the opening scene, in which the lazy, dissolute life of wealthy
churchmen is very pointedly satirised, are amusing enough, and the
characters of the chaplain and the husband are not far from la vraie
comédie. The tragedies are indirectly of more importance, but intrinsically
much duller reading. Instead, however, of cleaving, as Eugène does, closely
to the lines of the existing drama, the innovation in them is of the boldest
kind. The octosyllabic verse, hitherto sacred to drama, is exchanged in
Cléopâtre for a mixture of the decasyllabic and the Alexandrine, some
scenes being written in the one, others in the other. Nor is the tentative
character of the work only thus indicated; for the rhymes follow different
systems in the different scenes. In Didon, however, Jodelle settled down to
the unbroken Alexandrine with alternation of masculine and feminine
rhymes, which has remained the standard vehicle of French tragedy ever
since. His general scheme follows that of Seneca closely, and his choruses
are written in stanzas of short verses regularly arranged. The matter of both
plays is taken with tolerable exactness, in the one case from Plutarch, in the
Page 254
other from Virgil; but a somewhat full analytic description of the first
French tragedy must be given. Didon is something of an advance in
versification, as has been pointed out, but in other respects it is perhaps
inferior to Cléopâtre.
The piece begins with a prologue to the king, and then the first act opens
with a long soliloquy from the ghost of Antony. Long speeches, it should be
said, are the bane of this early French tragedy, and for nearly a century the
evil increased instead of diminishing. Cleopatra, Charmium, and Eras then
appear, for the play follows Plutarch strictly enough. The queen expresses
her despair, and announces her intention to die. The first act is concluded by
a long chorus of Alexandrian women, who bewail the shortness of life in
six-syllable quatrains. The second act, like the first (unless the monologue
of the ghost is counted in this latter), consists of only a single scene and a
chorus. The scene is between Octavian, Agrippa, and Proculeius, who argue
about the probable fate of Cleopatra. The conqueror is disposed to mercy
and to regret for Antony's death, but his officers are less amiably minded.
They agree, however, that Cleopatra will have to be watched for fear of
suicide. The chorus now is nominally divided into strophes and
antistrophes, but these are really only uniform stanzas of six six-syllable
lines each, with the rhymes arranged a, b, a, b, c, c, and there is no epode.
The third act contains the interview of Octavian with Cleopatra, the
surrender of the treasures, and the treachery of Seleucus. The chorus takes
part in this scene both by a short song and a longer one in couplets, but
arranged in eight-line stanzas, which is preceded by a dialogue with
Seleucus. The act thus consists of two scenes. In the fourth act Cleopatra
repeats and regularly matures her resolve of death. It contains two choric
pieces of some beauty. The first is an undivided song in sixes and fours; the
second has a regular arrangement of strophe, antistrophe, and epode three
times repeated, consisting of five-syllable lines, of which the strophe and
antistrophe contain eleven each and the epode eight, arranged—strophe and
antistrophe a, b, a, b, c, c, d, d, e, e, d, epode a, b, a, b, c, c, d, d. The fifth
act is very short, containing a recital by Proculeius of the Queen's death,
and a choric lament in quatrains. It will thus be seen that the action in the
piece is very small, except in the brawl with Seleucus; that the chorus has
the full importance which it possessed in the classical tragedy; and that,
owing to the few changes of scene and the other restrictions imposed upon
French tragedy must be given. Didon is something of an advance in
versification, as has been pointed out, but in other respects it is perhaps
inferior to Cléopâtre.
The piece begins with a prologue to the king, and then the first act opens
with a long soliloquy from the ghost of Antony. Long speeches, it should be
said, are the bane of this early French tragedy, and for nearly a century the
evil increased instead of diminishing. Cleopatra, Charmium, and Eras then
appear, for the play follows Plutarch strictly enough. The queen expresses
her despair, and announces her intention to die. The first act is concluded by
a long chorus of Alexandrian women, who bewail the shortness of life in
six-syllable quatrains. The second act, like the first (unless the monologue
of the ghost is counted in this latter), consists of only a single scene and a
chorus. The scene is between Octavian, Agrippa, and Proculeius, who argue
about the probable fate of Cleopatra. The conqueror is disposed to mercy
and to regret for Antony's death, but his officers are less amiably minded.
They agree, however, that Cleopatra will have to be watched for fear of
suicide. The chorus now is nominally divided into strophes and
antistrophes, but these are really only uniform stanzas of six six-syllable
lines each, with the rhymes arranged a, b, a, b, c, c, and there is no epode.
The third act contains the interview of Octavian with Cleopatra, the
surrender of the treasures, and the treachery of Seleucus. The chorus takes
part in this scene both by a short song and a longer one in couplets, but
arranged in eight-line stanzas, which is preceded by a dialogue with
Seleucus. The act thus consists of two scenes. In the fourth act Cleopatra
repeats and regularly matures her resolve of death. It contains two choric
pieces of some beauty. The first is an undivided song in sixes and fours; the
second has a regular arrangement of strophe, antistrophe, and epode three
times repeated, consisting of five-syllable lines, of which the strophe and
antistrophe contain eleven each and the epode eight, arranged—strophe and
antistrophe a, b, a, b, c, c, d, d, e, e, d, epode a, b, a, b, c, c, d, d. The fifth
act is very short, containing a recital by Proculeius of the Queen's death,
and a choric lament in quatrains. It will thus be seen that the action in the
piece is very small, except in the brawl with Seleucus; that the chorus has
the full importance which it possessed in the classical tragedy; and that,
owing to the few changes of scene and the other restrictions imposed upon
Page 255
himself by the poet, the dramatic capabilities of the plan are not a little
limited. The same state of things continued to be the case during the whole
duration of the school whose master Jodelle was. Style and versification
were sometimes better, sometimes worse than his; but, with comparatively
few exceptions, the general conception was the same, long monologues,
few characters, an almost total defect of action, which is conducted by the
aid of messengers, etc.
The fervent spirit of imitation which characterised the
satellites of the Pléiade has already been noticed more Minor Pléiade
Dramatists.
than once. But in no department was it more marked
than in that of drama. Jean de la Péruse, who, like many of the Pléiade
poets, died very young, produced a Medea imitated from Seneca, and
Charles Toustain an Agamemnon, also taken from the same author. Jacques
de la Taille at a very early age wrote a Darius and an Alexander, besides a
Didon, which is lost. These pieces have some merit, and it is noteworthy
that the metre varies, as in Jodelle's model. A slight eccentricity of realism,
however, has been Jacques de la Taille's chief passport to a place in the
history of French literature. The death of Darius occurs in the middle of the
word recommandation,
Mes enfants et ma femme aie en recommanda ...
Il ne put achever, ear la mort l'en garda.
It is perhaps not insignificant that the verse is completed if the word is not.
Of this immediate group of Jodelle's followers, however, the most
remarkable before Garnier was Jacques Grévin, who was noteworthy both
as a dramatist and as a poet. Grévin was a Protestant and a practitioner of
medicine, in which capacity he accompanied Marguerite de France,
Duchess of Savoy, to Turin, and died there, at the age of thirty. Before he
was twenty he wrote a tragedy, La Mort de César, which has considerable
merit, and two comedies, Les Esbahis and La Trésorière, which are perhaps
better still. Jean de la Taille, the brother of Jacques, but a better poet and a
better dramatist, wrote Saul Furieux and Les Gabaonites, two of the
numerous sacred tragedies which have always found favour in France, and
the tradition of which it has been sought to revive even in our own day. The
limited. The same state of things continued to be the case during the whole
duration of the school whose master Jodelle was. Style and versification
were sometimes better, sometimes worse than his; but, with comparatively
few exceptions, the general conception was the same, long monologues,
few characters, an almost total defect of action, which is conducted by the
aid of messengers, etc.
The fervent spirit of imitation which characterised the
satellites of the Pléiade has already been noticed more Minor Pléiade
Dramatists.
than once. But in no department was it more marked
than in that of drama. Jean de la Péruse, who, like many of the Pléiade
poets, died very young, produced a Medea imitated from Seneca, and
Charles Toustain an Agamemnon, also taken from the same author. Jacques
de la Taille at a very early age wrote a Darius and an Alexander, besides a
Didon, which is lost. These pieces have some merit, and it is noteworthy
that the metre varies, as in Jodelle's model. A slight eccentricity of realism,
however, has been Jacques de la Taille's chief passport to a place in the
history of French literature. The death of Darius occurs in the middle of the
word recommandation,
Mes enfants et ma femme aie en recommanda ...
Il ne put achever, ear la mort l'en garda.
It is perhaps not insignificant that the verse is completed if the word is not.
Of this immediate group of Jodelle's followers, however, the most
remarkable before Garnier was Jacques Grévin, who was noteworthy both
as a dramatist and as a poet. Grévin was a Protestant and a practitioner of
medicine, in which capacity he accompanied Marguerite de France,
Duchess of Savoy, to Turin, and died there, at the age of thirty. Before he
was twenty he wrote a tragedy, La Mort de César, which has considerable
merit, and two comedies, Les Esbahis and La Trésorière, which are perhaps
better still. Jean de la Taille, the brother of Jacques, but a better poet and a
better dramatist, wrote Saul Furieux and Les Gabaonites, two of the
numerous sacred tragedies which have always found favour in France, and
the tradition of which it has been sought to revive even in our own day. The
Page 256
theatre, like the pulpit, was used as an engine by the Leaguers, but nothing
of much value resulted from this.
Although many of the practitioners of this classical
tragedy, notably Jodelle, Grévin, and Jean de la Taille, Garnier.
produced work of interest and merit, it contributed only
one name which can properly be called great to literary history. This was
that of Robert Garnier[207], who brought the form to the highest perfection
of which it was capable in its earliest state. Garnier was born at La Ferté
Bernard in 1545, and died, apparently in his native province of Maine, in
1601. He was a lawyer of some distinction, being a member of the Paris bar,
then Lieutenant Criminel at Le Mans, and finally Councillor of State. He
was an immediate disciple and favourite of Ronsard, who has spoken of
him in those terms of magnificent eulogy of which he was liberal, but
which here, if somewhat exaggerated, are by no means altogether
misplaced. His dramatic works, extending to eight plays, were all composed
in his earlier manhood, between 1568 and 1580. There is, however, a wide
difference between the first six plays and the last two. The former, Porcie,
Cornélie, Marc-Antoine, Hippolyte, La Troade, and Antigone, are all, as
their titles show clearly, tragedies of antiquity closely modelled on Seneca
and Euripides, especially Seneca. The Cornélie, it may be observed, was
translated into English by Kyd. They do not differ much in arrangement
from each other, or from Jodelle's Cléopâtre. In his two last plays, however,
produced in 1580, much greater power and originality appear. These were
Les Juives, a Biblical tragedy on the fate of Zedekiah and Jerusalem, and
Bradamante, a romantic tragi-comedy on a subject taken from Ariosto. The
latter was apparently the first of its kind, dramatists having hitherto
confined themselves to classical, contemporary, and Biblical subjects. There
is, moreover, a curious incident connected with it. It contains no choruses,
and in the preface of the published edition the manager is requested to have
the want supplied in case of its being acted. Here too appears the confidant,
a dubious present to the French theatre, but one of no small importance. The
play is a remarkable one. The mixture of comic with tragic models gives the
author much more liberty, of which he duly avails himself; the scenes are
more numerous, the action more lively and complicated, the interest in
every way greater. Yet it would seem, from the remark made above, that
there was some doubt in the mind of the author whether it would ever be
of much value resulted from this.
Although many of the practitioners of this classical
tragedy, notably Jodelle, Grévin, and Jean de la Taille, Garnier.
produced work of interest and merit, it contributed only
one name which can properly be called great to literary history. This was
that of Robert Garnier[207], who brought the form to the highest perfection
of which it was capable in its earliest state. Garnier was born at La Ferté
Bernard in 1545, and died, apparently in his native province of Maine, in
1601. He was a lawyer of some distinction, being a member of the Paris bar,
then Lieutenant Criminel at Le Mans, and finally Councillor of State. He
was an immediate disciple and favourite of Ronsard, who has spoken of
him in those terms of magnificent eulogy of which he was liberal, but
which here, if somewhat exaggerated, are by no means altogether
misplaced. His dramatic works, extending to eight plays, were all composed
in his earlier manhood, between 1568 and 1580. There is, however, a wide
difference between the first six plays and the last two. The former, Porcie,
Cornélie, Marc-Antoine, Hippolyte, La Troade, and Antigone, are all, as
their titles show clearly, tragedies of antiquity closely modelled on Seneca
and Euripides, especially Seneca. The Cornélie, it may be observed, was
translated into English by Kyd. They do not differ much in arrangement
from each other, or from Jodelle's Cléopâtre. In his two last plays, however,
produced in 1580, much greater power and originality appear. These were
Les Juives, a Biblical tragedy on the fate of Zedekiah and Jerusalem, and
Bradamante, a romantic tragi-comedy on a subject taken from Ariosto. The
latter was apparently the first of its kind, dramatists having hitherto
confined themselves to classical, contemporary, and Biblical subjects. There
is, moreover, a curious incident connected with it. It contains no choruses,
and in the preface of the published edition the manager is requested to have
the want supplied in case of its being acted. Here too appears the confidant,
a dubious present to the French theatre, but one of no small importance. The
play is a remarkable one. The mixture of comic with tragic models gives the
author much more liberty, of which he duly avails himself; the scenes are
more numerous, the action more lively and complicated, the interest in
every way greater. Yet it would seem, from the remark made above, that
there was some doubt in the mind of the author whether it would ever be
Page 257
acted. Nor does it seem to have had much, if any, effect on the general
character of stage plays. These continued to follow the Jodelle model until
Hardy brought in the influence of Spain. Of that model Les Juives is
assuredly the masterpiece. The choruses are of great beauty, admirably
diversified in metre and rhythm, and occasionally all but equalling the best
lyrics of the Pléiade. There is interest in the story, which deals with the
vengeance of Nebuchadnezzar on the Jewish king, and its chief drawback is
its unrelieved gloom. The first act too, which consists of a monologue by
the Prophet (unnamed) relieved only by the chorus, is justly open to that
charge of monotony and absence of action, which is the great drawback of
this class of drama. Subsequently, however, a real interest is created in the
question whether the conqueror will or will not give up his sanguinary
purposes in consequence of the remonstrances of his general, Nebuzaradan,
and the entreaties of Zedekiah's mother and his own Queen. The stiffness of
the dialogue, which is remarkable in most of the tragedies of the period, is
here a good deal softened. The speeches are still sometimes too long—
Garnier was indeed a great offender in this way, and in his Hippolyte has
inflicted an unbroken monologue of nearly two hundred lines on the hapless
spectators. But very frequently the dialogue is fairly kept up, and
sufficiently varied by the avoidance of the practice of concluding the
speeches uniformly at the end of lines.
On the whole, however, despite the literary excellence of
at least some of the work composing it, it is impossible Defects of the
Pléiade Tragedy.
to give high rank as drama to the model of Jodelle.
Although the unities were not by any means followed with the strictness
which prevailed afterwards, the caution of Horace about awkward
transactions on the stage was rigidly observed, and, with the usual
illegitimate inference, carried out so as almost to exclude all action
whatever. The personages were generally few, the acts divided into but a
scene or two at most, the set tirades mercilessly long, and the whole thing,
as it would appear to a modern spectator, dull and spiritless.
The dramatists of the Pléiade school, though they chiefly
cultivated tragedy, did not by any means neglect Pléiade Comedy.
comedy, their leader, Jodelle, having, as has been shown,
set them the example in both kinds. Their comedy was, Larivey.
however, for some time a somewhat indeterminate kind
character of stage plays. These continued to follow the Jodelle model until
Hardy brought in the influence of Spain. Of that model Les Juives is
assuredly the masterpiece. The choruses are of great beauty, admirably
diversified in metre and rhythm, and occasionally all but equalling the best
lyrics of the Pléiade. There is interest in the story, which deals with the
vengeance of Nebuchadnezzar on the Jewish king, and its chief drawback is
its unrelieved gloom. The first act too, which consists of a monologue by
the Prophet (unnamed) relieved only by the chorus, is justly open to that
charge of monotony and absence of action, which is the great drawback of
this class of drama. Subsequently, however, a real interest is created in the
question whether the conqueror will or will not give up his sanguinary
purposes in consequence of the remonstrances of his general, Nebuzaradan,
and the entreaties of Zedekiah's mother and his own Queen. The stiffness of
the dialogue, which is remarkable in most of the tragedies of the period, is
here a good deal softened. The speeches are still sometimes too long—
Garnier was indeed a great offender in this way, and in his Hippolyte has
inflicted an unbroken monologue of nearly two hundred lines on the hapless
spectators. But very frequently the dialogue is fairly kept up, and
sufficiently varied by the avoidance of the practice of concluding the
speeches uniformly at the end of lines.
On the whole, however, despite the literary excellence of
at least some of the work composing it, it is impossible Defects of the
Pléiade Tragedy.
to give high rank as drama to the model of Jodelle.
Although the unities were not by any means followed with the strictness
which prevailed afterwards, the caution of Horace about awkward
transactions on the stage was rigidly observed, and, with the usual
illegitimate inference, carried out so as almost to exclude all action
whatever. The personages were generally few, the acts divided into but a
scene or two at most, the set tirades mercilessly long, and the whole thing,
as it would appear to a modern spectator, dull and spiritless.
The dramatists of the Pléiade school, though they chiefly
cultivated tragedy, did not by any means neglect Pléiade Comedy.
comedy, their leader, Jodelle, having, as has been shown,
set them the example in both kinds. Their comedy was, Larivey.
however, for some time a somewhat indeterminate kind
Page 258
of composition, and did not for the most part show much sign of the
extraordinary excellence which French comedy was to attain in the next
century. They seem to have hesitated between three models, the indigenous
farce, the Italian comedy, which was a graft on the Latin, and the Latin
comedy of Plautus and Terence itself. Yet Eugène, as has been said, is a
great deal better as a play than either Didon or Cléopâtre. Its manner was
closely imitated in the already-mentioned comedies of Grévin. The
Reconnue of Belleau is a work of merit. Baïf turned the Miles Gloriosus
into French under the title of Taillebras, which was acted with the curious
accompaniment of choruses composed by, among others, Desportes,
Belleau, and Ronsard himself. All these pieces kept the octosyllabic verse
which the farce had consecrated. Afterwards it became fashionable to write
comedies in prose. Jean de la Taille thus gave Les Corrivaux, Odet de
Turnèbe Les Mécontents, François d'Amboise Les Napolitaines. But the
chief comic author of the century, a better playwright than Garnier himself,
was Pierre Larivey, who also wrote in prose[208]. He was born at Troyes
about 1540, and died probably in the second decade of the seventeenth
century. His father was an Italian, of the famous printer family of the
Giunti, and on settling in France he had dubbed himself L'Arrivé, which
soon took the less recognisable form under which the dramatist is known.
Pierre Larivey held a canonry at Troyes, and translated many Italian books
of the most diverse kinds into French. Among these were numerous
comedies, and the genius of the translator for his task in this case produced
what are in effect as original compositions as most plays which call
themselves original. Larivey took the utmost liberties with his models,
adding, dropping, altering, exactly as he pleased, and writing his
adaptations in a style excellent for the purpose. He produced twelve plays,
of which nine are extant, Le Laquais, La Veuve, Les Esprits, Le Morfondu,
Les Jaloux, Les Escoliers, published in 1579, and Constance, Le Fidèle, Les
Tromperies, published in 1611. Each of these has an Italian original. But, as
the originals themselves are frequently derived from classical sources,
Larivey very often seems to be imitating these latter. A nearly complete idea
of the character of his best piece, Les Esprits, may be obtained by those
who know the Aulularia and Andria, and, on the other hand, the École des
Maris and L'Avare, for he stands about midway between the classical
comedies of Latin and French. Molière found a good deal of his property in
Larivey, and so did other French comic authors.
extraordinary excellence which French comedy was to attain in the next
century. They seem to have hesitated between three models, the indigenous
farce, the Italian comedy, which was a graft on the Latin, and the Latin
comedy of Plautus and Terence itself. Yet Eugène, as has been said, is a
great deal better as a play than either Didon or Cléopâtre. Its manner was
closely imitated in the already-mentioned comedies of Grévin. The
Reconnue of Belleau is a work of merit. Baïf turned the Miles Gloriosus
into French under the title of Taillebras, which was acted with the curious
accompaniment of choruses composed by, among others, Desportes,
Belleau, and Ronsard himself. All these pieces kept the octosyllabic verse
which the farce had consecrated. Afterwards it became fashionable to write
comedies in prose. Jean de la Taille thus gave Les Corrivaux, Odet de
Turnèbe Les Mécontents, François d'Amboise Les Napolitaines. But the
chief comic author of the century, a better playwright than Garnier himself,
was Pierre Larivey, who also wrote in prose[208]. He was born at Troyes
about 1540, and died probably in the second decade of the seventeenth
century. His father was an Italian, of the famous printer family of the
Giunti, and on settling in France he had dubbed himself L'Arrivé, which
soon took the less recognisable form under which the dramatist is known.
Pierre Larivey held a canonry at Troyes, and translated many Italian books
of the most diverse kinds into French. Among these were numerous
comedies, and the genius of the translator for his task in this case produced
what are in effect as original compositions as most plays which call
themselves original. Larivey took the utmost liberties with his models,
adding, dropping, altering, exactly as he pleased, and writing his
adaptations in a style excellent for the purpose. He produced twelve plays,
of which nine are extant, Le Laquais, La Veuve, Les Esprits, Le Morfondu,
Les Jaloux, Les Escoliers, published in 1579, and Constance, Le Fidèle, Les
Tromperies, published in 1611. Each of these has an Italian original. But, as
the originals themselves are frequently derived from classical sources,
Larivey very often seems to be imitating these latter. A nearly complete idea
of the character of his best piece, Les Esprits, may be obtained by those
who know the Aulularia and Andria, and, on the other hand, the École des
Maris and L'Avare, for he stands about midway between the classical
comedies of Latin and French. Molière found a good deal of his property in
Larivey, and so did other French comic authors.
Page 259
FOOTNOTES:
[205] Ed. Héricault, Montaiglon, and Rothschild. 2 vols. Paris. 1858-1877.
[206] Ancien Théâtre Français, vol. iv.
[207] A good modern edition has appeared by Förster. Heilbronn, 1882.
[208] Ancien Théâtre Français, vol. vi. vii.
[205] Ed. Héricault, Montaiglon, and Rothschild. 2 vols. Paris. 1858-1877.
[206] Ancien Théâtre Français, vol. iv.
[207] A good modern edition has appeared by Förster. Heilbronn, 1882.
[208] Ancien Théâtre Français, vol. vi. vii.
Page 260
CHAPTER VI.
CALVIN AND AMYOT.
It has been pointed out that Rabelais, in his capacity of
representative author of the French Renaissance, Prose Writers of the
Renaissance.
exhibits all the characteristics of that Renaissance—its
interest, half-enthusiastic and half-sceptical, in religious and philosophical
questions, its devotion to ancient literature and learning, and the ardent zest
with which it attacked at once the business and the pleasures of the world.
The four most remarkable of the remaining prose authors of the century
illustrate these characteristics as vividly but less universally. Montaigne
indeed is almost as complete a representative of the entire character for the
last half of the century as Rabelais is of the first. But even in him one note,
the note of sceptical philosophy, is more dominant than any to be found in
Rabelais. In the same way Calvin was the first, if not the most
distinguished, of theologians who wrote modern French prose; Amyot the
representative of erudition; and Brantôme of that attention to mundane
business and pleasure which produced so many admirable memoir-writers.
Round each of the four, but especially round Amyot and Brantôme,
numerous figures, sometimes of hardly less magnitude, have to be grouped.
Chronological reasons, and the convenience of subdividing the subject,
make it, however, advisable to take Calvin and Amyot first, leaving the
authors of the Essais and the Dames Galantes with their train for another
chapter.
Jean Calvin[209] was born in 1509, at Noyon, in Picardy,
where his father held the post of procurator-fiscal to the Calvin.
bishop. He took orders very early, and obtained some
preferment. Before long, by a transition very usual in that age, he
exchanged divinity for law; but his interest was still in the former study, and
he eagerly embraced the Reformed doctrines. Like other French reformers,
he was at first rewarded by the favour of Francis and his sister Marguerite,
but the tide soon turned, and he left France in 1534 for Basle. It is said that
CALVIN AND AMYOT.
It has been pointed out that Rabelais, in his capacity of
representative author of the French Renaissance, Prose Writers of the
Renaissance.
exhibits all the characteristics of that Renaissance—its
interest, half-enthusiastic and half-sceptical, in religious and philosophical
questions, its devotion to ancient literature and learning, and the ardent zest
with which it attacked at once the business and the pleasures of the world.
The four most remarkable of the remaining prose authors of the century
illustrate these characteristics as vividly but less universally. Montaigne
indeed is almost as complete a representative of the entire character for the
last half of the century as Rabelais is of the first. But even in him one note,
the note of sceptical philosophy, is more dominant than any to be found in
Rabelais. In the same way Calvin was the first, if not the most
distinguished, of theologians who wrote modern French prose; Amyot the
representative of erudition; and Brantôme of that attention to mundane
business and pleasure which produced so many admirable memoir-writers.
Round each of the four, but especially round Amyot and Brantôme,
numerous figures, sometimes of hardly less magnitude, have to be grouped.
Chronological reasons, and the convenience of subdividing the subject,
make it, however, advisable to take Calvin and Amyot first, leaving the
authors of the Essais and the Dames Galantes with their train for another
chapter.
Jean Calvin[209] was born in 1509, at Noyon, in Picardy,
where his father held the post of procurator-fiscal to the Calvin.
bishop. He took orders very early, and obtained some
preferment. Before long, by a transition very usual in that age, he
exchanged divinity for law; but his interest was still in the former study, and
he eagerly embraced the Reformed doctrines. Like other French reformers,
he was at first rewarded by the favour of Francis and his sister Marguerite,
but the tide soon turned, and he left France in 1534 for Basle. It is said that
Page 261
it was not till then that he learnt Hebrew. At Basle his Institution was
published. After a year or two he went to Italy, where he was received by
the Duchess of Ferrara, Renée of France, the steadiest of all the royal
patrons of the French reformers. At last he established himself at Geneva,
where, as is well known, he succeeded in setting up a kind of theocratic
tyranny, which was for centuries the model and pattern of his faithful
followers the Scotch Presbyterians. He was once banished, but recalled, and
exercised his sway for about a quarter of a century. Into the too famous and
much argued matters of his relations with Servetus, his intrigues with the
French inquisitors to establish a kind of Zollverein of persecution and the
like, there is no need to enter here. He died in 1564. Calvin's greatest work
in literature, as in theology, is the Institution of the Christian Religion,
which, as has been said, was published at Basle in 1536. It was written in
Latin, but four years later was republished in French, the author himself
being the translator. The minor works of Calvin, both in Latin and French,
are very numerous, but from the point of view of literary history they may
be neglected, except certain satirical pamphlets wherein the writer
displayed a considerable command of vigorous, if occasionally clumsy,
satire and invective. The scurrility with which the debates of the
Reformation were carried on on both sides is but too well known. Calvin
was not so guilty in this respect as Luther, but he must bear a considerable
portion of the blame. What is really valuable in Calvin's satiric style may be
found more worthily represented in the less abstract passages of the
Institution, notably the Address to the King.
The Institution itself is beyond all question the first serious work of great
literary merit, not historical, in the history of French prose. It is strongly
Latinised in form and construction, as might indeed be expected
considering the circumstances of its production. But the point in which it
differs from preceding works in which the classical influence is prominent,
is that the author no longer attempts to give his classical colour by means of
wholesale importations of terms. The vocabulary, though rich and varied, is
still in the main genuine French, and the Latinism is more observable in
occasional constructions and in the architecture of the clauses than in the
mere selection of words. This clause-architecture was a matter of the last
importance, for it was exactly in this respect that French, like most of the
vernacular tongues, was deficient. The entirely artless and mainly
published. After a year or two he went to Italy, where he was received by
the Duchess of Ferrara, Renée of France, the steadiest of all the royal
patrons of the French reformers. At last he established himself at Geneva,
where, as is well known, he succeeded in setting up a kind of theocratic
tyranny, which was for centuries the model and pattern of his faithful
followers the Scotch Presbyterians. He was once banished, but recalled, and
exercised his sway for about a quarter of a century. Into the too famous and
much argued matters of his relations with Servetus, his intrigues with the
French inquisitors to establish a kind of Zollverein of persecution and the
like, there is no need to enter here. He died in 1564. Calvin's greatest work
in literature, as in theology, is the Institution of the Christian Religion,
which, as has been said, was published at Basle in 1536. It was written in
Latin, but four years later was republished in French, the author himself
being the translator. The minor works of Calvin, both in Latin and French,
are very numerous, but from the point of view of literary history they may
be neglected, except certain satirical pamphlets wherein the writer
displayed a considerable command of vigorous, if occasionally clumsy,
satire and invective. The scurrility with which the debates of the
Reformation were carried on on both sides is but too well known. Calvin
was not so guilty in this respect as Luther, but he must bear a considerable
portion of the blame. What is really valuable in Calvin's satiric style may be
found more worthily represented in the less abstract passages of the
Institution, notably the Address to the King.
The Institution itself is beyond all question the first serious work of great
literary merit, not historical, in the history of French prose. It is strongly
Latinised in form and construction, as might indeed be expected
considering the circumstances of its production. But the point in which it
differs from preceding works in which the classical influence is prominent,
is that the author no longer attempts to give his classical colour by means of
wholesale importations of terms. The vocabulary, though rich and varied, is
still in the main genuine French, and the Latinism is more observable in
occasional constructions and in the architecture of the clauses than in the
mere selection of words. This clause-architecture was a matter of the last
importance, for it was exactly in this respect that French, like most of the
vernacular tongues, was deficient. The entirely artless and mainly
Page 262
conversational array of the sentence which, out of verse, had hitherto been
common, served for narrative well enough, but not at all for argument or
discussion. Calvin threw his French clauses into the mould in which his
Latin had been cast, and without unduly stiffening them produced a
regularity of form which was entirely novel. Even when his sentences are of
considerable length, there is clearness and simplicity in them, which in
some languages, English for instance, was not generally reached in prose
till much later. It is remarkable, too, that the besetting sin of serious French
prose, its tendency to the declamatory, is well kept under by Calvin. Next to
the graceful stateliness of his phrase, its extreme sobriety, not rejecting
legitimate ornament, but seldom or never trespassing into the rhetorical, has
to be observed. Considering that the whole of it was written before the
author was seven-and-twenty, it is perhaps the most remarkable work of its
particular kind to be anywhere found—the merits being those of full
maturity and elaborate preparation rather than of youthful exuberance. The
book consists of four parts; the first on God, the second on the Atonement,
or rather on the Mediatorial Office of Christ, the third on the results of that
Office, the fourth on Church Government. Its end, it need hardly be said, is
double—the establishment in the most rigorous form of the doctrine of
predestination and original sin, and the destruction of the sacramental and
sacerdotal doctrines of the Catholic Church.
Despite the fervid interest taken in religious disputation
and the masterly example which Calvin had set both to Minor Reformers
and
friends and foes, theology proper did not contribute very Controversialists.
much of value to literature during the period. Beza wrote
chiefly in Latin, his Histoire des Églises Réformées being the chief
exception. Pierre Viret, a Swiss by birth, who passed the last twenty years
of his life at various towns in the south of France as a preacher and
theological teacher, wrote a considerable number of treatises, both serious
and satirical. The titles of some of the latter, L'Alchimie du Purgatoire, La
Cosmographie Infernale, etc., are characteristic of the time. But Viret's
literary merit was not remarkable. This kind of theological pasquinading
was in great favour throughout the period, and authors of very various
merit, such as Marnix de Sainte Aldegonde, Doré, Claude de Saintes,
Arthus Désiré, and others, contributed plentifully to it. But the interest of
their work is for the most part historical and antiquarian only. The title of
common, served for narrative well enough, but not at all for argument or
discussion. Calvin threw his French clauses into the mould in which his
Latin had been cast, and without unduly stiffening them produced a
regularity of form which was entirely novel. Even when his sentences are of
considerable length, there is clearness and simplicity in them, which in
some languages, English for instance, was not generally reached in prose
till much later. It is remarkable, too, that the besetting sin of serious French
prose, its tendency to the declamatory, is well kept under by Calvin. Next to
the graceful stateliness of his phrase, its extreme sobriety, not rejecting
legitimate ornament, but seldom or never trespassing into the rhetorical, has
to be observed. Considering that the whole of it was written before the
author was seven-and-twenty, it is perhaps the most remarkable work of its
particular kind to be anywhere found—the merits being those of full
maturity and elaborate preparation rather than of youthful exuberance. The
book consists of four parts; the first on God, the second on the Atonement,
or rather on the Mediatorial Office of Christ, the third on the results of that
Office, the fourth on Church Government. Its end, it need hardly be said, is
double—the establishment in the most rigorous form of the doctrine of
predestination and original sin, and the destruction of the sacramental and
sacerdotal doctrines of the Catholic Church.
Despite the fervid interest taken in religious disputation
and the masterly example which Calvin had set both to Minor Reformers
and
friends and foes, theology proper did not contribute very Controversialists.
much of value to literature during the period. Beza wrote
chiefly in Latin, his Histoire des Églises Réformées being the chief
exception. Pierre Viret, a Swiss by birth, who passed the last twenty years
of his life at various towns in the south of France as a preacher and
theological teacher, wrote a considerable number of treatises, both serious
and satirical. The titles of some of the latter, L'Alchimie du Purgatoire, La
Cosmographie Infernale, etc., are characteristic of the time. But Viret's
literary merit was not remarkable. This kind of theological pasquinading
was in great favour throughout the period, and authors of very various
merit, such as Marnix de Sainte Aldegonde, Doré, Claude de Saintes,
Arthus Désiré, and others, contributed plentifully to it. But the interest of
their work is for the most part historical and antiquarian only. The title of
Page 263
'Protestant Rabelais' has been absurdly given to Marnix. It is only so far
deserved that the scurril language and gross images which with the master
were but accessories, were with the pupil the main point. In the latter part of
the century, after the quieting of the troubles of the League, two more
serious disputants arose, each of considerable literary eminence. These were
on the Protestant side, Philippe de Mornay, better known as Duplessis-
Mornay, who distinguished himself equally as a soldier, a diplomatist, and a
man of letters, and the still more famous Cardinal Du Perron, a converted
Calvinist, who was supposed to be the most expert controversialist of a time
which was nothing if not controversial. The chief theological work of
Duplessis-Mornay was his Traité de la Vérité de la Religion Chrétienne.
The chief written theological work of Du Perron was a Traité du Sacrement
de l'Euchariste, in reply to a work on the same subject by Mornay.
Between the controversies of the earlier part of the
century and those of the latter, preaching, if not Preachers of the
dogmatic theology, held an important place because of League.
its political bearing. The pulpit style of the sixteenth century was for the
most part an aggravation of that (already described) of the fifteenth, the
acrimony of sectarian and factious partisanship leading the preachers to
indulge in every kind of verbal excess. During the League the partisans of
that organisation, especially in Paris, were perpetually excited against Henri
III. and his successor by the most atrocious pulpit diatribes, the chief artists
in which were Boucher, Rose, Launay, Feuardent, and Génébrard. The
literary value of these furious outpourings however is very small. After their
cessation a reaction set in, and for some time before the splendid period of
pulpit eloquence, which lasted from St. Francis de Sales to Massillon, the
general style of French homiletics was dull and laboured.
Jacques Amyot[210] was born at Melun in 1513, and
belonged to the lowest class. He was educated as a Amyot.
servitor at the famous Collège de Navarre, and took his
degree in arts at the age of nineteen. He then held various tutorships and
attracted the notice of Marguerite, Queen of Navarre, the constant patroness
of men of letters, who gave him a Readership at Bourges. After some years
of University teaching in the classics, he began his series of translations
with the Theagenes and Chariclea in 1546. This was three years in advance
of Du Bellay's manifesto, and though not a few translations had already
deserved that the scurril language and gross images which with the master
were but accessories, were with the pupil the main point. In the latter part of
the century, after the quieting of the troubles of the League, two more
serious disputants arose, each of considerable literary eminence. These were
on the Protestant side, Philippe de Mornay, better known as Duplessis-
Mornay, who distinguished himself equally as a soldier, a diplomatist, and a
man of letters, and the still more famous Cardinal Du Perron, a converted
Calvinist, who was supposed to be the most expert controversialist of a time
which was nothing if not controversial. The chief theological work of
Duplessis-Mornay was his Traité de la Vérité de la Religion Chrétienne.
The chief written theological work of Du Perron was a Traité du Sacrement
de l'Euchariste, in reply to a work on the same subject by Mornay.
Between the controversies of the earlier part of the
century and those of the latter, preaching, if not Preachers of the
dogmatic theology, held an important place because of League.
its political bearing. The pulpit style of the sixteenth century was for the
most part an aggravation of that (already described) of the fifteenth, the
acrimony of sectarian and factious partisanship leading the preachers to
indulge in every kind of verbal excess. During the League the partisans of
that organisation, especially in Paris, were perpetually excited against Henri
III. and his successor by the most atrocious pulpit diatribes, the chief artists
in which were Boucher, Rose, Launay, Feuardent, and Génébrard. The
literary value of these furious outpourings however is very small. After their
cessation a reaction set in, and for some time before the splendid period of
pulpit eloquence, which lasted from St. Francis de Sales to Massillon, the
general style of French homiletics was dull and laboured.
Jacques Amyot[210] was born at Melun in 1513, and
belonged to the lowest class. He was educated as a Amyot.
servitor at the famous Collège de Navarre, and took his
degree in arts at the age of nineteen. He then held various tutorships and
attracted the notice of Marguerite, Queen of Navarre, the constant patroness
of men of letters, who gave him a Readership at Bourges. After some years
of University teaching in the classics, he began his series of translations
with the Theagenes and Chariclea in 1546. This was three years in advance
of Du Bellay's manifesto, and though not a few translations had already
Page 264
appeared, none had even approached Amyot's in elegance. As usual at the
time his literary reputation was rewarded by Church preferment and
employment in the diplomatic service. He was also made tutor to Charles
IX. and Henri of Anjou. His elder pupil, when he came to the throne, made
him, first, Grand Almoner of France, and then Bishop of Auxerre, while
Henri III. added the honour of a commandership in the order of the Holy
Ghost. For a time, in the midst of the troubles of the League, Amyot was
driven from his palace, but he returned and died, at the full age of fourscore,
in 1594.
Besides the work of Heliodorus, Amyot translated Diodorus Siculus (1554),
Daphnis and Chloe, Plutarch's Lives (1559), and Plutarch's Morals (1574).
It may seem at first sight that his selection of authors to translate was
somewhat peculiar. It was however, either by accident or design, singularly
well suited to the age which he addressed. The positive merit of Heliodorus,
and still more of Longus, is certainly greater than is usually admitted
nowadays. But for that time they were peculiarly suited (and especially
Longus) by their combination of romantic and adventurous description with
graceful pictures of nature and amatory interludes. Plutarch, on the other
hand, expressed, more than any other author, the practical and moralising
spirit which accompanied this taste for romance. Montaigne confessed that
he could not do without Plutarch, and it may be doubted whether any other
single author of antiquity, after the Ciceronian mania was over, exercised
such an influence as Plutarch, through Amyot, North, and Shakespeare (a
direct succession of channels), upon France and England.
The merit of the translator had not a little to do with the success of the
books. Here is the testimony of the greatest in a literary sense of Amyot's
readers. 'I give,' says Montaigne, 'and I think I am right in doing so, the
palm to Jacques Amyot over all French writers, not only for the simplicity
and purity of his vocabulary, in which he surpasses all others, nor for his
industry in so long a task, nor for the depth of his learning which has
enabled him to expound so happily a writer so thorny and crabbed. I am
above all grateful to him for having selected and chosen a book so worthy
and so suitable as a present to his country. We dunces were lost had not this
book plucked us out of the mire. Thanks to it, we dare to speak and to write.
By it ladies are in a position to give lessons to schoolmasters. It is our very
breviary.' This praise, which is not exaggerated in itself, and still less when
time his literary reputation was rewarded by Church preferment and
employment in the diplomatic service. He was also made tutor to Charles
IX. and Henri of Anjou. His elder pupil, when he came to the throne, made
him, first, Grand Almoner of France, and then Bishop of Auxerre, while
Henri III. added the honour of a commandership in the order of the Holy
Ghost. For a time, in the midst of the troubles of the League, Amyot was
driven from his palace, but he returned and died, at the full age of fourscore,
in 1594.
Besides the work of Heliodorus, Amyot translated Diodorus Siculus (1554),
Daphnis and Chloe, Plutarch's Lives (1559), and Plutarch's Morals (1574).
It may seem at first sight that his selection of authors to translate was
somewhat peculiar. It was however, either by accident or design, singularly
well suited to the age which he addressed. The positive merit of Heliodorus,
and still more of Longus, is certainly greater than is usually admitted
nowadays. But for that time they were peculiarly suited (and especially
Longus) by their combination of romantic and adventurous description with
graceful pictures of nature and amatory interludes. Plutarch, on the other
hand, expressed, more than any other author, the practical and moralising
spirit which accompanied this taste for romance. Montaigne confessed that
he could not do without Plutarch, and it may be doubted whether any other
single author of antiquity, after the Ciceronian mania was over, exercised
such an influence as Plutarch, through Amyot, North, and Shakespeare (a
direct succession of channels), upon France and England.
The merit of the translator had not a little to do with the success of the
books. Here is the testimony of the greatest in a literary sense of Amyot's
readers. 'I give,' says Montaigne, 'and I think I am right in doing so, the
palm to Jacques Amyot over all French writers, not only for the simplicity
and purity of his vocabulary, in which he surpasses all others, nor for his
industry in so long a task, nor for the depth of his learning which has
enabled him to expound so happily a writer so thorny and crabbed. I am
above all grateful to him for having selected and chosen a book so worthy
and so suitable as a present to his country. We dunces were lost had not this
book plucked us out of the mire. Thanks to it, we dare to speak and to write.
By it ladies are in a position to give lessons to schoolmasters. It is our very
breviary.' This praise, which is not exaggerated in itself, and still less when
Page 265
taken as an expression of the feeling of the time, refers of course to the
'Plutarch,' and in estimating it it is necessary to take account of Montaigne's
especial affection for the author translated. But if we take in the lighter
work, and especially the Daphnis and Chloe, Amyot will stand higher, not
lower. His merit is not so much that he has known how to adjust himself
and his style to two very different authors, but that in rendering both those
authors he has written French of a most original model and of the greatest
excellence. The common fault of translation, the insensible adoption of a
foreign idiom—especially difficult to avoid at a time when no classical
standards or models of the tongue used by the translator exist—is here
almost entirely overcome. The style of Amyot, who had little before him, if
Calvin and Rabelais be excepted, but the clumsy examples of the
rhétoriqueur school, is, as Montaigne justly says, perfectly simple and pure;
and so little is it tinged either with archaism or with classicism that the
seventeenth century itself, unjust as it was for the most part towards its
predecessors, acknowledged its merit.
Although Amyot was by far the most considerable of the
French translators of the sixteenth century, he was not by Minor Translators.
any means the first. Claude de Seyssel translated many
Greek authors, Pierre Saliat produced a version of Dolet.
Herodotus, Lefèvre d'Étaples was the author of the first
complete French translation of the Bible, and a cluster of learned writers,
some of them remarkable for other work, such as Bonaventure des Périers,
devoted themselves to Plato. Among these latter there is one who was in
many ways a typical representative of the time. Étienne Dolet[211] was born
at Orleans in 1509, lived a stormy life diversified by many quarrels, literary
and theological, did much service to literature both in Latin and French,
and, falling out with the powers that were, was burnt (having first been, as a
matter of grace and in consequence of a previous recantation, hanged) in the
Place Maubert, at Paris, on his birthday, August 3, 1554. Dolet had written
many Latin speeches and tractates in the Ciceronian style—that of a curious
section of humanists who entertained an exclusive and exaggerated
devotion to Cicero. Then, becoming himself a master-printer, he wrote
several small treatises on French grammar, some poems, a short history of
Francis the First, and finally, a translation of the Platonic or Pseudo-
Platonic Axiochus, which was the proximate cause of his death. He was one
'Plutarch,' and in estimating it it is necessary to take account of Montaigne's
especial affection for the author translated. But if we take in the lighter
work, and especially the Daphnis and Chloe, Amyot will stand higher, not
lower. His merit is not so much that he has known how to adjust himself
and his style to two very different authors, but that in rendering both those
authors he has written French of a most original model and of the greatest
excellence. The common fault of translation, the insensible adoption of a
foreign idiom—especially difficult to avoid at a time when no classical
standards or models of the tongue used by the translator exist—is here
almost entirely overcome. The style of Amyot, who had little before him, if
Calvin and Rabelais be excepted, but the clumsy examples of the
rhétoriqueur school, is, as Montaigne justly says, perfectly simple and pure;
and so little is it tinged either with archaism or with classicism that the
seventeenth century itself, unjust as it was for the most part towards its
predecessors, acknowledged its merit.
Although Amyot was by far the most considerable of the
French translators of the sixteenth century, he was not by Minor Translators.
any means the first. Claude de Seyssel translated many
Greek authors, Pierre Saliat produced a version of Dolet.
Herodotus, Lefèvre d'Étaples was the author of the first
complete French translation of the Bible, and a cluster of learned writers,
some of them remarkable for other work, such as Bonaventure des Périers,
devoted themselves to Plato. Among these latter there is one who was in
many ways a typical representative of the time. Étienne Dolet[211] was born
at Orleans in 1509, lived a stormy life diversified by many quarrels, literary
and theological, did much service to literature both in Latin and French,
and, falling out with the powers that were, was burnt (having first been, as a
matter of grace and in consequence of a previous recantation, hanged) in the
Place Maubert, at Paris, on his birthday, August 3, 1554. Dolet had written
many Latin speeches and tractates in the Ciceronian style—that of a curious
section of humanists who entertained an exclusive and exaggerated
devotion to Cicero. Then, becoming himself a master-printer, he wrote
several small treatises on French grammar, some poems, a short history of
Francis the First, and finally, a translation of the Platonic or Pseudo-
Platonic Axiochus, which was the proximate cause of his death. He was one
Page 266
of the earliest of the French humanist students to devote himself to the
vernacular, and, though his short and troubled life did not enable him to
perfect his French style, he is very interesting as a specimen. His friendship
with Marot and Rabelais had in each case an unhappy end. In the latter this
was due to a pirated edition of Pantagruel and Gargantua, which
reproduced expressions that Rabelais, in the rising storm of persecution,
had been anxious to modify. As a Latin scholar Dolet was accurate and
sound. His translations suffer somewhat from the want of a sufficiently
definite and flexible French style, but the striving after such a style is
apparent in them.
Dolet and the other persons just mentioned had translated for the most part
prose into prose. Sanxon, Hugues Salel, Lazare de Baïf, Sibilet, and others,
translated verse into verse; but the theory of French versification had not as
yet been sufficiently studied to make the attempt really profitable. After the
innovations of the Pléiade many of Ronsard's followers bent themselves to
the same task with a better equipment and with more success. Almost all the
poets mentioned elsewhere executed translations of more or less merit.
From a literary point of view, however, the exercises of
the century, in what may be called applied scholarship, Fauchet.
were, leaving out of sight for the moment Amyot's work,
and also that, presently to be mentioned, of Herberay, of greater merit than
its pure translations. All the mediaeval legends, assigning classical or semi-
classical origins to the populations of France, were resumed and amplified
by Jean Lemaire de Belges, in the first years of the century, in his
Illustrations des Gaules. Lemaire belongs, as has been said elsewhere, for
the most part to the earlier school of the Rhétoriqueurs, but his literary
power was considerable. The style of research, mingling as it did
antiquarian and historical elements with a strong infusion of what was
purely literary, was illustrated during the period by three persons who
deserve special mention. Claude Fauchet is a name of great importance in
French literary history. So long as mediaeval literature actually flourished
we should expect to find, and we do find, no attention paid to its history and
development. Fauchet was the first person, so far as is known, who devoted
himself to something like a critical examination of its results; and as many
of the materials which he had at his disposal have perished, his work, with
all its drawbacks, is still very valuable. His Antiquités Gauloises et
vernacular, and, though his short and troubled life did not enable him to
perfect his French style, he is very interesting as a specimen. His friendship
with Marot and Rabelais had in each case an unhappy end. In the latter this
was due to a pirated edition of Pantagruel and Gargantua, which
reproduced expressions that Rabelais, in the rising storm of persecution,
had been anxious to modify. As a Latin scholar Dolet was accurate and
sound. His translations suffer somewhat from the want of a sufficiently
definite and flexible French style, but the striving after such a style is
apparent in them.
Dolet and the other persons just mentioned had translated for the most part
prose into prose. Sanxon, Hugues Salel, Lazare de Baïf, Sibilet, and others,
translated verse into verse; but the theory of French versification had not as
yet been sufficiently studied to make the attempt really profitable. After the
innovations of the Pléiade many of Ronsard's followers bent themselves to
the same task with a better equipment and with more success. Almost all the
poets mentioned elsewhere executed translations of more or less merit.
From a literary point of view, however, the exercises of
the century, in what may be called applied scholarship, Fauchet.
were, leaving out of sight for the moment Amyot's work,
and also that, presently to be mentioned, of Herberay, of greater merit than
its pure translations. All the mediaeval legends, assigning classical or semi-
classical origins to the populations of France, were resumed and amplified
by Jean Lemaire de Belges, in the first years of the century, in his
Illustrations des Gaules. Lemaire belongs, as has been said elsewhere, for
the most part to the earlier school of the Rhétoriqueurs, but his literary
power was considerable. The style of research, mingling as it did
antiquarian and historical elements with a strong infusion of what was
purely literary, was illustrated during the period by three persons who
deserve special mention. Claude Fauchet is a name of great importance in
French literary history. So long as mediaeval literature actually flourished
we should expect to find, and we do find, no attention paid to its history and
development. Fauchet was the first person, so far as is known, who devoted
himself to something like a critical examination of its results; and as many
of the materials which he had at his disposal have perished, his work, with
all its drawbacks, is still very valuable. His Antiquités Gauloises et
Page 267
Françoises are purely historical, but display a sound spirit of criticism. His
Recueil de l'Origine de la Langue et Poésie Françoise, Ryme et Romans,
plus les Noms et Sommaires des Œuvres de CXXVII Poètes François vivans
avant l'an MCCC, is a work for its period (1581) almost unique.
Philologically, of course, Fauchet is far from infallible, as, for instance, in
his theory, obviously indefensible, that French is a cross between the
tongues of the Gauls and the Romans. But his 'Noms et Sommaires' are
actually taken from the study of manuscripts; and, as the works of the
Trouvères had, with few exceptions, long dropped out of sight, except in
late fifteenth-century prose versions, the attempt to make them known was
as salutary as it was bold.
Fauchet unfortunately was not a good writer. This
cannot be said of his principal rival, or rather successor, Pasquier.
Étienne Pasquier. Pasquier was born at Paris in 1529,
and early devoted himself to legal studies, which he pursued all through his
life. His most famous performance as an advocate was his speech for the
University of Paris against the Jesuits in 1565. He afterwards took a
vigorous part in the Royalist polemic against the League. He did not die till
1615. His works, as yet unpublished in a complete form, are in modern
times accessible chiefly in the selection of M. Léon Feugère[212]. They are
voluminous, but by far the most important (with the exception perhaps of
the valuable Letters) is the Recherches de la France. This is a somewhat
desultory but very interesting collection of remarks on politics, history,
social changes, and last, not least, literature. To us the most attractive part
of Pasquier's literary history is the account he gives of the great poetical and
literary movement of his own day, the revolution of the Pléiade, or, as he
describes it picturesquely, 'De la Grande Flotte de Poètes que produisit le
Règne du Roi Henry Deuxième.' But his notes on the previous history of
literature in France, though necessarily based on somewhat imperfect
knowledge, are full of interest, and not destitute of instruction, such, for
instance, as his chapters on the farce of Pathelin, on Provençal poetry, on
the formal measures of the fourteenth century, etc. Pasquier's style is very
delightful. Despite his erudition, and even what may be called his
Ronsardising, he does not aim at the new severity and classicism. But his
manner is exceedingly picturesque, perfectly clear, and distinguished by a
sort of gossiping ingenuousness without any lack of dignity, the secret of
Recueil de l'Origine de la Langue et Poésie Françoise, Ryme et Romans,
plus les Noms et Sommaires des Œuvres de CXXVII Poètes François vivans
avant l'an MCCC, is a work for its period (1581) almost unique.
Philologically, of course, Fauchet is far from infallible, as, for instance, in
his theory, obviously indefensible, that French is a cross between the
tongues of the Gauls and the Romans. But his 'Noms et Sommaires' are
actually taken from the study of manuscripts; and, as the works of the
Trouvères had, with few exceptions, long dropped out of sight, except in
late fifteenth-century prose versions, the attempt to make them known was
as salutary as it was bold.
Fauchet unfortunately was not a good writer. This
cannot be said of his principal rival, or rather successor, Pasquier.
Étienne Pasquier. Pasquier was born at Paris in 1529,
and early devoted himself to legal studies, which he pursued all through his
life. His most famous performance as an advocate was his speech for the
University of Paris against the Jesuits in 1565. He afterwards took a
vigorous part in the Royalist polemic against the League. He did not die till
1615. His works, as yet unpublished in a complete form, are in modern
times accessible chiefly in the selection of M. Léon Feugère[212]. They are
voluminous, but by far the most important (with the exception perhaps of
the valuable Letters) is the Recherches de la France. This is a somewhat
desultory but very interesting collection of remarks on politics, history,
social changes, and last, not least, literature. To us the most attractive part
of Pasquier's literary history is the account he gives of the great poetical and
literary movement of his own day, the revolution of the Pléiade, or, as he
describes it picturesquely, 'De la Grande Flotte de Poètes que produisit le
Règne du Roi Henry Deuxième.' But his notes on the previous history of
literature in France, though necessarily based on somewhat imperfect
knowledge, are full of interest, and not destitute of instruction, such, for
instance, as his chapters on the farce of Pathelin, on Provençal poetry, on
the formal measures of the fourteenth century, etc. Pasquier's style is very
delightful. Despite his erudition, and even what may be called his
Ronsardising, he does not aim at the new severity and classicism. But his
manner is exceedingly picturesque, perfectly clear, and distinguished by a
sort of gossiping ingenuousness without any lack of dignity, the secret of
Page 268
which the sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries in France and England
seem to have possessed and carried off with them.
The third of three not dissimilar names is that of Henri
Estienne. His remarkable Apologie pour Hérodote, like Henri Estienne.
not a few other works of the same kind, would be less
remarkable if it were stripped of borrowed plumes; but his three treatises on
French linguistics, the Traité de la Conformité du Français avec le Grec,
the Précellence de la Langue Française, and the Nouveaux Dialogues de
Langage Français Italianisé, would give him a considerable place in the
history of French literature if he had written no Apologie and published no
Thesaurus. All three works are more or less directed against the Italianising
mania of the day.
Here, perhaps, better than elsewhere, may be mentioned
the name of one of the best, if not the best, purely Herberay.
narrative writer of French prose during the century,
Herberay des Essarts. It is to Herberay that the famous romance of Amadis
of Gaul owes most of its fame. According to the most probable story, the
Amadis was originally translated by the Spaniard Montalvo from a lost
Portuguese original of the fourteenth century. There is absolutely no trace of
a French original, the existence of which has been assumed by French
critics. In form the Amadis is a long prose Roman d'Aventures,
distinguished only from its French companions and predecessors by a
somewhat higher strain of romantic sentiment, and by a greater abundance
of giants, dwarfs, witches, and other condiments, which, even in its most
luxuriant day, the simpler and more academic French taste had known how
to do without, or at most, to apply moderately. It had been continued in the
Spanish by more than one author, and was a very voluminous work when,
in 1540, Herberay undertook to give a French version of it. He, in his turn,
had continuators, but none who equalled his popularity or power. Readers
of the Spanish complain that Herberay has not been a faithful translator,
and, in particular, that he has been guilty of no few anachronisms. He
probably troubled himself very little about exact fidelity or strict local and
temporal colour. But he ranks, in order of time, second only to Calvin in the
production of a clear, elegant, and scholarly French prose style. The book
became immensely popular. It is said that it was the usual reading book for
foreign students of French for a considerable period, and it was highly
seem to have possessed and carried off with them.
The third of three not dissimilar names is that of Henri
Estienne. His remarkable Apologie pour Hérodote, like Henri Estienne.
not a few other works of the same kind, would be less
remarkable if it were stripped of borrowed plumes; but his three treatises on
French linguistics, the Traité de la Conformité du Français avec le Grec,
the Précellence de la Langue Française, and the Nouveaux Dialogues de
Langage Français Italianisé, would give him a considerable place in the
history of French literature if he had written no Apologie and published no
Thesaurus. All three works are more or less directed against the Italianising
mania of the day.
Here, perhaps, better than elsewhere, may be mentioned
the name of one of the best, if not the best, purely Herberay.
narrative writer of French prose during the century,
Herberay des Essarts. It is to Herberay that the famous romance of Amadis
of Gaul owes most of its fame. According to the most probable story, the
Amadis was originally translated by the Spaniard Montalvo from a lost
Portuguese original of the fourteenth century. There is absolutely no trace of
a French original, the existence of which has been assumed by French
critics. In form the Amadis is a long prose Roman d'Aventures,
distinguished only from its French companions and predecessors by a
somewhat higher strain of romantic sentiment, and by a greater abundance
of giants, dwarfs, witches, and other condiments, which, even in its most
luxuriant day, the simpler and more academic French taste had known how
to do without, or at most, to apply moderately. It had been continued in the
Spanish by more than one author, and was a very voluminous work when,
in 1540, Herberay undertook to give a French version of it. He, in his turn,
had continuators, but none who equalled his popularity or power. Readers
of the Spanish complain that Herberay has not been a faithful translator,
and, in particular, that he has been guilty of no few anachronisms. He
probably troubled himself very little about exact fidelity or strict local and
temporal colour. But he ranks, in order of time, second only to Calvin in the
production of a clear, elegant, and scholarly French prose style. The book
became immensely popular. It is said that it was the usual reading book for
foreign students of French for a considerable period, and it was highly
Page 269
thought of by the best critics (such as Pasquier) of its own and the next
generation. It had moreover a great influence on what came after it. To no
single book can be so clearly traced the heroic romances of the early
seventeenth century.
It may seem somewhat premature to speak of scientific
writers in the sixteenth century. Yet there are three who Palissy.
usually and deservedly hold a place in French literary
history, and who cannot be conveniently classed under any other head.
There are few better known names of the time than Bernard Palissy. His
famous enamels are no doubt partly the cause of this, but other artists as
great or greater are not nearly so living to us as this maker of pottery. He
was born in or about 1510, at a village, Chapelle Broin, near Agen, and he
died in the Bastile, in 1589, a prisoner for his Protestantism. Catherine de
Medicis had saved him from the massacre of St. Bartholomew. His long life
was occupied mainly in art and scientific researches, partly also in lecturing
on natural history and physics, and in writing accounts of his investigations,
which are not very voluminous, but which possess an extraordinary
vividness of style and description. His treatise on pottery, the Art de la
Terre, contains the passage which has become classical, describing his
desperate efforts to discover the secret of the Italian enamellers. He also
wrote a Recepte véritable par laquelle tous les hommes de la France
pourront apprendre à multiplier et à augmenter leurs Trésors, and, some
ten years before his death, a Discours admirable de la Nature des Eaux et
Fontaines. His literary work is an almost unique mixture of research with
genuine literary fancy.
Ambroise Paré, also a famous name, was born about the
same time as Palissy, and died the year after him. A Paré.
freethinker in his way, he escaped all temptation to
embrace the dangerous heresy which was so fatal, or, at least, so
inconvenient, to many other men of science and letters, and for the last forty
years of his life he was court-surgeon. His literary work is not
inconsiderable in amount, consisting, as might be expected, chiefly of
professional treatises. The most interesting of his books, however, from a
general point of view, and, as it happens, also by far the best written, is his
Apologie et Voyages, a kind of autobiography which contains a large
collection of anecdotes and details, not unimportant for the history of the
generation. It had moreover a great influence on what came after it. To no
single book can be so clearly traced the heroic romances of the early
seventeenth century.
It may seem somewhat premature to speak of scientific
writers in the sixteenth century. Yet there are three who Palissy.
usually and deservedly hold a place in French literary
history, and who cannot be conveniently classed under any other head.
There are few better known names of the time than Bernard Palissy. His
famous enamels are no doubt partly the cause of this, but other artists as
great or greater are not nearly so living to us as this maker of pottery. He
was born in or about 1510, at a village, Chapelle Broin, near Agen, and he
died in the Bastile, in 1589, a prisoner for his Protestantism. Catherine de
Medicis had saved him from the massacre of St. Bartholomew. His long life
was occupied mainly in art and scientific researches, partly also in lecturing
on natural history and physics, and in writing accounts of his investigations,
which are not very voluminous, but which possess an extraordinary
vividness of style and description. His treatise on pottery, the Art de la
Terre, contains the passage which has become classical, describing his
desperate efforts to discover the secret of the Italian enamellers. He also
wrote a Recepte véritable par laquelle tous les hommes de la France
pourront apprendre à multiplier et à augmenter leurs Trésors, and, some
ten years before his death, a Discours admirable de la Nature des Eaux et
Fontaines. His literary work is an almost unique mixture of research with
genuine literary fancy.
Ambroise Paré, also a famous name, was born about the
same time as Palissy, and died the year after him. A Paré.
freethinker in his way, he escaped all temptation to
embrace the dangerous heresy which was so fatal, or, at least, so
inconvenient, to many other men of science and letters, and for the last forty
years of his life he was court-surgeon. His literary work is not
inconsiderable in amount, consisting, as might be expected, chiefly of
professional treatises. The most interesting of his books, however, from a
general point of view, and, as it happens, also by far the best written, is his
Apologie et Voyages, a kind of autobiography which contains a large
collection of anecdotes and details, not unimportant for the history of the
Page 270
time, as well as of much personal interest. The style of this book is often
vivid and picturesque, as well as clear and precise.
It was fitting that agriculture, which is the staple
industry of France, should contribute to her literature at Olivier de Serres.
this period—the most genuine and exuberant period of
its history, if not that which produced the most minutely finished work. The
Théâtre de l'Agriculture et du Ménage des Champs of Olivier de Serres was
published in the last year of the century. The author was a native of the
town of Villeneuve du Berg, in the present department of Ardèche. He was a
Protestant and a great favourite of Henri IV., to whom he was useful in
developing Sully's plans of internal economy. The Théâtre de l'Agriculture
was long the classic book on the subject, and the author has been honoured,
in quite recent times, by statues and other demonstrations. Like most books
of the kind, it is much overlaid with erudition, but this only adds to its
picturesqueness; and, as the author's precepts were founded on a life's
experience of his subject, it certainly cannot be reproached with a want of
practical knowledge and aim.
Not a few other authors would require notice, if space permitted, in this
class of scientific and erudite authors, particularly in the class of linguistics
and literature. Such is Geoffroy Tory, a printer, grammarian, and prose-
writer of merit in the early part of the century, who anticipated Rabelais in
his protest against the indiscriminate Latinisation of the later Rhétoriqueurs.
Not a few other writers, such as Pelletier and Fontaine, busied themselves
during the period with grammar and prosody; while towards the close of it,
the first French bibliographers of eminence, La Croix du Maine, and Du
Verdier, made their appearance. But the works of all these, as rather
ancillary to literature than actually literary, must here be passed over.
FOOTNOTES:
[209] Cauvin or Chauvin is the more correct form, but the Latinised Calvinus
made Calvin more usual. Calvin's works are voluminous. The Institution was
published in convenient shape at Paris in 1859.
[210] Most of Amyot is accessible only in the old editions. A beautiful edition of
the Daphnis and Chloe has been published by L. Glady. London, 1878.
vivid and picturesque, as well as clear and precise.
It was fitting that agriculture, which is the staple
industry of France, should contribute to her literature at Olivier de Serres.
this period—the most genuine and exuberant period of
its history, if not that which produced the most minutely finished work. The
Théâtre de l'Agriculture et du Ménage des Champs of Olivier de Serres was
published in the last year of the century. The author was a native of the
town of Villeneuve du Berg, in the present department of Ardèche. He was a
Protestant and a great favourite of Henri IV., to whom he was useful in
developing Sully's plans of internal economy. The Théâtre de l'Agriculture
was long the classic book on the subject, and the author has been honoured,
in quite recent times, by statues and other demonstrations. Like most books
of the kind, it is much overlaid with erudition, but this only adds to its
picturesqueness; and, as the author's precepts were founded on a life's
experience of his subject, it certainly cannot be reproached with a want of
practical knowledge and aim.
Not a few other authors would require notice, if space permitted, in this
class of scientific and erudite authors, particularly in the class of linguistics
and literature. Such is Geoffroy Tory, a printer, grammarian, and prose-
writer of merit in the early part of the century, who anticipated Rabelais in
his protest against the indiscriminate Latinisation of the later Rhétoriqueurs.
Not a few other writers, such as Pelletier and Fontaine, busied themselves
during the period with grammar and prosody; while towards the close of it,
the first French bibliographers of eminence, La Croix du Maine, and Du
Verdier, made their appearance. But the works of all these, as rather
ancillary to literature than actually literary, must here be passed over.
FOOTNOTES:
[209] Cauvin or Chauvin is the more correct form, but the Latinised Calvinus
made Calvin more usual. Calvin's works are voluminous. The Institution was
published in convenient shape at Paris in 1859.
[210] Most of Amyot is accessible only in the old editions. A beautiful edition of
the Daphnis and Chloe has been published by L. Glady. London, 1878.
Page 271
[211] Dolet's works are not easily to be found except in public libraries. The
standard book on him is that of Mr. R. C. Christie (London, 1880), one of the
best monographs on French literary history to be found in any language.
[212] 2 vols. Paris, 1849.
standard book on him is that of Mr. R. C. Christie (London, 1880), one of the
best monographs on French literary history to be found in any language.
[212] 2 vols. Paris, 1849.
Page 272
CHAPTER VII.
MONTAIGNE AND BRANTÔME.
A period of enthusiasm passes naturally and almost
necessarily into one of scepticism, and it is in no way Disenchantment of
the late
surprising that the prominent literary figure of the Renaissance.
second half of the sixteenth century in France should
have taken for his motto rather 'Que sais-je?' than, like Rabelais, 'Sursum
Corda.' The early hopes of the Renaissance had been curiously
disappointed. The Reformation had resulted not merely in cruel and
destructive civil war, but in the formation, in too many cases, of a
Protestantism not less imperious and far more illiberal than the Catholicism
against which it protested. The economic and social effects of the discovery
of the New World had been equally discouraging, and even the recovery of
classical learning had produced a race of pedants almost as trifling as the
last doting defenders of scholasticism. The evils of the civil state of France,
moreover, drove nearly all the best men into the sect of Politiques, or
Trimmers, who avowedly regarded high questions of truth and faith as
subordinate to a politic opportunism. The age had not lost its power of
enjoyment of affairs and of pleasure, but its appetite for higher things was
somewhat blunted. In this state of matters a few persons, of whom
Montaigne was incomparably the most important, philosophised sceptically
about life, and a great many, of whom Brantôme is the most typical, took
pleasure in describing the ways and acts of an aristocracy which combined
extraordinary luxury and corruption with great love of wit, singular
intellectual ability, and a keen interest in war and business.
Michel Eyquem, Sieur de Montaigne[213], was born,
'between eleven and twelve o'clock of the day' (the detail Montaigne.
is characteristic), on the 28th of February, 1533, at the
château from which he derived his name, and which he has made
illustrious. Montaigne is situated in the old province of Perigord, or,
according to modern nomenclature, in the department of Dordogne and the
MONTAIGNE AND BRANTÔME.
A period of enthusiasm passes naturally and almost
necessarily into one of scepticism, and it is in no way Disenchantment of
the late
surprising that the prominent literary figure of the Renaissance.
second half of the sixteenth century in France should
have taken for his motto rather 'Que sais-je?' than, like Rabelais, 'Sursum
Corda.' The early hopes of the Renaissance had been curiously
disappointed. The Reformation had resulted not merely in cruel and
destructive civil war, but in the formation, in too many cases, of a
Protestantism not less imperious and far more illiberal than the Catholicism
against which it protested. The economic and social effects of the discovery
of the New World had been equally discouraging, and even the recovery of
classical learning had produced a race of pedants almost as trifling as the
last doting defenders of scholasticism. The evils of the civil state of France,
moreover, drove nearly all the best men into the sect of Politiques, or
Trimmers, who avowedly regarded high questions of truth and faith as
subordinate to a politic opportunism. The age had not lost its power of
enjoyment of affairs and of pleasure, but its appetite for higher things was
somewhat blunted. In this state of matters a few persons, of whom
Montaigne was incomparably the most important, philosophised sceptically
about life, and a great many, of whom Brantôme is the most typical, took
pleasure in describing the ways and acts of an aristocracy which combined
extraordinary luxury and corruption with great love of wit, singular
intellectual ability, and a keen interest in war and business.
Michel Eyquem, Sieur de Montaigne[213], was born,
'between eleven and twelve o'clock of the day' (the detail Montaigne.
is characteristic), on the 28th of February, 1533, at the
château from which he derived his name, and which he has made
illustrious. Montaigne is situated in the old province of Perigord, or,
according to modern nomenclature, in the department of Dordogne and the
Page 273
arrondissement of Bergerac. It is at no great distance from Bordeaux. The
family was long believed from a phrase of Montaigne's own to have been of
English extraction, introduced during the long tenure of Aquitaine by our
sovereigns. But recent and industrious researches have shown that it may
with greater probability have been of local origin and yeoman status. Pierre
Eyquem, the father, had filled many important municipal offices at
Bordeaux. Michel was his third son among nine children, but by the death
of his elder brothers he inherited the family estate. He was educated early,
and after the manner of a time when education was a subject on which
almost all men of independent thought rode hobbies. Latin he learnt by
conversation at a very early age, Greek as a kind of amusement. At the
mature age of six he was placed at the Collège de Guyenne in Bordeaux,
not the least famous of the famous schools of the time, for there it was that
Buchanan, Muretus, and Guérente, by the Latin plays which they wrote for
their scholars to act, introduced the Senecan drama into France and showed
the way to the French tragedy of the Pléiade. Seven years of study
completed Montaigne's school education at the age of thirteen, when
nowadays boys quit their preparatory cradles. He was set to work at law, but
little positive is known of him for many years. In 1554, being then twenty-
one, he was made counsellor in the Bordeaux Parlement, and in 1566 he
married Françoise de la Chassaigne, daughter of one of his colleagues.
Except casual references in the Essays, which are seldom precise, all we
know of him during these years is his friendship with Étienne de la Boëtie.
He almost certainly served one or more campaigns; but the most positive
thing that can be said of his middle life is that, according to an existing
inscription of his own, he finally retired, in 1571, on his thirty-eighth
birthday, to the château which had become his by his father's death two
years previously. He had already translated the Theologia Naturalis of
Raymond de Sebonde. In the year of his retirement he edited the works of
La Boëtie. But he now began a much more important task. The first two
books of the Essais appeared in 1580; and immediately afterwards
Montaigne, who suffered from severe internal disorders, undertook a long
journey into Italy, Switzerland, and Germany, which occupied nearly a year
and a-half. While sojourning at the baths of Lucca, he received the news of
his appointment as mayor of Bordeaux, and hastened home. In 1588 he
published the third Book of the Essays, and had troubles with the Leaguers
in Paris. Four years afterwards, on the 13th September, 1592, he died of
family was long believed from a phrase of Montaigne's own to have been of
English extraction, introduced during the long tenure of Aquitaine by our
sovereigns. But recent and industrious researches have shown that it may
with greater probability have been of local origin and yeoman status. Pierre
Eyquem, the father, had filled many important municipal offices at
Bordeaux. Michel was his third son among nine children, but by the death
of his elder brothers he inherited the family estate. He was educated early,
and after the manner of a time when education was a subject on which
almost all men of independent thought rode hobbies. Latin he learnt by
conversation at a very early age, Greek as a kind of amusement. At the
mature age of six he was placed at the Collège de Guyenne in Bordeaux,
not the least famous of the famous schools of the time, for there it was that
Buchanan, Muretus, and Guérente, by the Latin plays which they wrote for
their scholars to act, introduced the Senecan drama into France and showed
the way to the French tragedy of the Pléiade. Seven years of study
completed Montaigne's school education at the age of thirteen, when
nowadays boys quit their preparatory cradles. He was set to work at law, but
little positive is known of him for many years. In 1554, being then twenty-
one, he was made counsellor in the Bordeaux Parlement, and in 1566 he
married Françoise de la Chassaigne, daughter of one of his colleagues.
Except casual references in the Essays, which are seldom precise, all we
know of him during these years is his friendship with Étienne de la Boëtie.
He almost certainly served one or more campaigns; but the most positive
thing that can be said of his middle life is that, according to an existing
inscription of his own, he finally retired, in 1571, on his thirty-eighth
birthday, to the château which had become his by his father's death two
years previously. He had already translated the Theologia Naturalis of
Raymond de Sebonde. In the year of his retirement he edited the works of
La Boëtie. But he now began a much more important task. The first two
books of the Essais appeared in 1580; and immediately afterwards
Montaigne, who suffered from severe internal disorders, undertook a long
journey into Italy, Switzerland, and Germany, which occupied nearly a year
and a-half. While sojourning at the baths of Lucca, he received the news of
his appointment as mayor of Bordeaux, and hastened home. In 1588 he
published the third Book of the Essays, and had troubles with the Leaguers
in Paris. Four years afterwards, on the 13th September, 1592, he died of
Page 274
quinsy. Although Montaigne's municipal and legal appointments at
Bordeaux are all that we know him to have enjoyed, he is styled 'gentleman
in ordinary to the king,' and letters extant from and to Charles IX., Henri
III., and Henri IV., show him to have enjoyed a considerable social as well
as literary position. He was a knight of the Order of St. Michael. By his
wife he had several children, but all died young, except one daughter, who
survived him and left offspring. His adopted daughter, however,
Mademoiselle de Gournay, a celebrated character of the next age, and the
first editor of his complete works after his death, is better known.
A complete abstract of Montaigne's work cannot be here attempted, and
indeed no such thing is possible, because the work itself is absolutely
destitute of general plan and exhibits no unity but a unity of spirit and
treatment. Whether Montaigne himself invented the famous title Essays or
not, is a matter of the very smallest importance. It is certain that he was the
first to give the word its modern meaning, though he dealt with his subjects
in a spirit of audacious desultoriness, which many of his successors have
endeavoured to imitate, but which few have imitated successfully. His
nominal subject is, as a rule, merely a starting-point, or at the most a text.
He allows himself to be diverted from it by any game which crosses his
path, and diverges as readily from his new direction. Abundant citation
from the classics is one of his chief characteristics; but the two main points
which differentiate him are, first, the audacious egotism and frankness with
which he discourses of his private affairs and exhibits himself in undress;
secondly, the flavour of subtle scepticism which he diffuses over his whole
work. Both these are susceptible of a good deal of misconstruction, and
both no doubt have been a good deal misconstrued. His egotism, like most
egotism, is a compound of frankness and affectation, and its sincerity is not,
as an attraction, equal to the easy garrulity for which it affords an occasion
of display. His scepticism, however, is altogether sui generis. It is not
exuberant, like that of Rabelais, nor sneering, like that of Voltaire, nor
despairing, like that of Pascal, nor merely inquisitive and scholarly, like that
of Bayle. There is no reason for disbelieving Montaigne's sincere and
conscious orthodoxy in the ecclesiastical sense. But his own temperament,
assisted no doubt by the political and ecclesiastical circumstances already
described, by indifferent bodily health, and by the period, if not exactly of
excess, at any rate of free living, in his younger days, to which he so
Bordeaux are all that we know him to have enjoyed, he is styled 'gentleman
in ordinary to the king,' and letters extant from and to Charles IX., Henri
III., and Henri IV., show him to have enjoyed a considerable social as well
as literary position. He was a knight of the Order of St. Michael. By his
wife he had several children, but all died young, except one daughter, who
survived him and left offspring. His adopted daughter, however,
Mademoiselle de Gournay, a celebrated character of the next age, and the
first editor of his complete works after his death, is better known.
A complete abstract of Montaigne's work cannot be here attempted, and
indeed no such thing is possible, because the work itself is absolutely
destitute of general plan and exhibits no unity but a unity of spirit and
treatment. Whether Montaigne himself invented the famous title Essays or
not, is a matter of the very smallest importance. It is certain that he was the
first to give the word its modern meaning, though he dealt with his subjects
in a spirit of audacious desultoriness, which many of his successors have
endeavoured to imitate, but which few have imitated successfully. His
nominal subject is, as a rule, merely a starting-point, or at the most a text.
He allows himself to be diverted from it by any game which crosses his
path, and diverges as readily from his new direction. Abundant citation
from the classics is one of his chief characteristics; but the two main points
which differentiate him are, first, the audacious egotism and frankness with
which he discourses of his private affairs and exhibits himself in undress;
secondly, the flavour of subtle scepticism which he diffuses over his whole
work. Both these are susceptible of a good deal of misconstruction, and
both no doubt have been a good deal misconstrued. His egotism, like most
egotism, is a compound of frankness and affectation, and its sincerity is not,
as an attraction, equal to the easy garrulity for which it affords an occasion
of display. His scepticism, however, is altogether sui generis. It is not
exuberant, like that of Rabelais, nor sneering, like that of Voltaire, nor
despairing, like that of Pascal, nor merely inquisitive and scholarly, like that
of Bayle. There is no reason for disbelieving Montaigne's sincere and
conscious orthodoxy in the ecclesiastical sense. But his own temperament,
assisted no doubt by the political and ecclesiastical circumstances already
described, by indifferent bodily health, and by the period, if not exactly of
excess, at any rate of free living, in his younger days, to which he so
Page 275
constantly alludes, had produced in him a general feeling that the pros and
cons of different opinions and actions balance each other more evenly than
is generally thought. He looks on life with a kind of ironical enjoyment, and
the three books of his Essays might be described as a vast gallery of
pictures illustrating the results of his contemplations.
There are some considerable differences between the earlier and later
Essays, one of the most obvious of which concerns the point of length. Thus
the first book consists of fifty-seven essays, occupying rather more than 500
pages[214], or an average of less than ten pages each. The second (exclusive
of the long 'Apologie de Raymond Sebonde,' which occupies 300 pages by
itself) contains thirty-six essays, of nearly 500 pages in all, or about twelve
pages each. These books were published together, and may be presumed to
have been written more or less at the same time. But the third and last book,
though it contains full 550 pages, has only thirteen essays, which thus
average more than forty pages each, though their length is very unequal.
Montaigne had, no doubt, found that his pillar-to-post method of discourse
was sufficiently attractive to make fresh starting-points and definite titles
unnecessary; thus in the third book, his subjects (at least his professed
subjects) are sometimes much wider, and sometimes much more whimsical,
than in the two first. Oedipus himself could hardly divine the actual subject
of the essay 'Sur des Vers de Virgile,' or guess that a paper 'Sur les Coches'
would in reality busy itself with the question what virtues are most proper
to a sovereign. On the other hand, such large titles as 'De la Vanité de
l'Expérience,' etc. give room for almost any and every excursion. All these
are in the last book; the shorter essays of the two first for the most part deal
more definitely with their nominal subjects, which are most frequently
moral brocards: such as 'Le Profit de l'Un est Dommage de l'Autre,' 'Par
Divers Moyens on arrive à Pareille Fin,' etc.
In a literary history, however, of the scale and plan of this present, the
question of Montaigne's subjects and sentiments, interesting as it is, must
not be allowed to obscure the question of the expression which he gave to
these sentiments. His book is of the greatest importance in the history of
French style, of an importance indeed which has been by no means
invariably recognised by French literary historians themselves. It must be
remembered that he at once attained, and never lost, an immense popularity.
Thus the comparative oblivion which, owing to the reforms of the early
cons of different opinions and actions balance each other more evenly than
is generally thought. He looks on life with a kind of ironical enjoyment, and
the three books of his Essays might be described as a vast gallery of
pictures illustrating the results of his contemplations.
There are some considerable differences between the earlier and later
Essays, one of the most obvious of which concerns the point of length. Thus
the first book consists of fifty-seven essays, occupying rather more than 500
pages[214], or an average of less than ten pages each. The second (exclusive
of the long 'Apologie de Raymond Sebonde,' which occupies 300 pages by
itself) contains thirty-six essays, of nearly 500 pages in all, or about twelve
pages each. These books were published together, and may be presumed to
have been written more or less at the same time. But the third and last book,
though it contains full 550 pages, has only thirteen essays, which thus
average more than forty pages each, though their length is very unequal.
Montaigne had, no doubt, found that his pillar-to-post method of discourse
was sufficiently attractive to make fresh starting-points and definite titles
unnecessary; thus in the third book, his subjects (at least his professed
subjects) are sometimes much wider, and sometimes much more whimsical,
than in the two first. Oedipus himself could hardly divine the actual subject
of the essay 'Sur des Vers de Virgile,' or guess that a paper 'Sur les Coches'
would in reality busy itself with the question what virtues are most proper
to a sovereign. On the other hand, such large titles as 'De la Vanité de
l'Expérience,' etc. give room for almost any and every excursion. All these
are in the last book; the shorter essays of the two first for the most part deal
more definitely with their nominal subjects, which are most frequently
moral brocards: such as 'Le Profit de l'Un est Dommage de l'Autre,' 'Par
Divers Moyens on arrive à Pareille Fin,' etc.
In a literary history, however, of the scale and plan of this present, the
question of Montaigne's subjects and sentiments, interesting as it is, must
not be allowed to obscure the question of the expression which he gave to
these sentiments. His book is of the greatest importance in the history of
French style, of an importance indeed which has been by no means
invariably recognised by French literary historians themselves. It must be
remembered that he at once attained, and never lost, an immense popularity.
Thus the comparative oblivion which, owing to the reforms of the early
Page 276
seventeenth century and the brilliant period of production which followed
them, overtook most of the men of the Renaissance, did not touch
Montaigne. He, with Rabelais, remained a well of undefiled French, which
all the artificial filtering of Malherbe and Boileau could not deprive of its
refreshing and fertilising power. Writing, too, at a period subsequent,
instead of anterior to the innovations of the Pléiade, Montaigne was able to
incorporate, and thus to save, not a few of the neologisms which, valuable
as they were, the purists of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries
neglected. Many words which his immediate contemporaries, and still more
his successors, condemned, have made good their footing in the language,
owing beyond all doubt to his influence. His style, too, was valuable for
something else besides its vocabulary. It entered so seldom into the plan of
Rabelais to write in any other than a burlesque tone, that he was rarely able
to display his own incomparable faculty of writing ordinary French, pure,
vigorous, graceful, and flexible at once. The tale-tellers and memoir-writers
of the time matured an excellent narrative style, but one less suited for other
forms of writing. The theologians often obeyed the Latinising influence too
implicitly. But Montaigne, with his wide variety of subject, required and
wrought out for himself a corresponding variety of style. His very
discursiveness and the constant flow of new thoughts that welled up in him
helped him to avoid the great curse of all the vulgar tongues in the
Renaissance—the long jointed sentence; the easy colloquial manner at
which he aimed reflected itself in a style less familiar indeed than avowed
burlesque, but at the same time more familiar than any writer had before
used in treating of similar subjects. Yet no one was more capable than
Montaigne, on the rare occasions when he judged it proper, of showing his
mastery of sustained and lofty eloquence. The often-quoted passage in
which he rebukes the vanity of man (who, without letters patent or
privilege, assumes to himself the honour of being the only created being
cognisant of the secret of the universe) yields to nothing that had been
written or was to be written for many years, fertile as the sixteenth and early
seventeenth centuries were in both its characteristics, solemnity and dignity
of expression. That a book which was thus rich in vocabulary, richer still in
idiosyncrasy of expression, gracefully familiar in general style, and
admirably eloquent in occasional passages, should at once become popular,
and should remain so, could not be without a happy effect on the general
standard of literary taste and the general acquaintance with the capabilities
them, overtook most of the men of the Renaissance, did not touch
Montaigne. He, with Rabelais, remained a well of undefiled French, which
all the artificial filtering of Malherbe and Boileau could not deprive of its
refreshing and fertilising power. Writing, too, at a period subsequent,
instead of anterior to the innovations of the Pléiade, Montaigne was able to
incorporate, and thus to save, not a few of the neologisms which, valuable
as they were, the purists of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries
neglected. Many words which his immediate contemporaries, and still more
his successors, condemned, have made good their footing in the language,
owing beyond all doubt to his influence. His style, too, was valuable for
something else besides its vocabulary. It entered so seldom into the plan of
Rabelais to write in any other than a burlesque tone, that he was rarely able
to display his own incomparable faculty of writing ordinary French, pure,
vigorous, graceful, and flexible at once. The tale-tellers and memoir-writers
of the time matured an excellent narrative style, but one less suited for other
forms of writing. The theologians often obeyed the Latinising influence too
implicitly. But Montaigne, with his wide variety of subject, required and
wrought out for himself a corresponding variety of style. His very
discursiveness and the constant flow of new thoughts that welled up in him
helped him to avoid the great curse of all the vulgar tongues in the
Renaissance—the long jointed sentence; the easy colloquial manner at
which he aimed reflected itself in a style less familiar indeed than avowed
burlesque, but at the same time more familiar than any writer had before
used in treating of similar subjects. Yet no one was more capable than
Montaigne, on the rare occasions when he judged it proper, of showing his
mastery of sustained and lofty eloquence. The often-quoted passage in
which he rebukes the vanity of man (who, without letters patent or
privilege, assumes to himself the honour of being the only created being
cognisant of the secret of the universe) yields to nothing that had been
written or was to be written for many years, fertile as the sixteenth and early
seventeenth centuries were in both its characteristics, solemnity and dignity
of expression. That a book which was thus rich in vocabulary, richer still in
idiosyncrasy of expression, gracefully familiar in general style, and
admirably eloquent in occasional passages, should at once become popular,
and should remain so, could not be without a happy effect on the general
standard of literary taste and the general acquaintance with the capabilities
Page 277
of the French language. That Montaigne himself was a sound critical judge
and not merely a lucky practitioner of style, may be judged from his
singling out Amyot as the great master of it among his own immediate
predecessors. In so far, indeed, as prose style goes, master and scholar must
undoubtedly take rank at the head of all the writers of the century when
bulk and variety of examples are taken into account.
Although, as has been already noted, Montaigne has
many sides, his most striking peculiarity may be said to Charron.
be the mixture of philosophical speculation, especially
on ethical and political topics, with attention to the historical side of human
life both in the past and in the present. He was, however, by no means the
only teacher of ethics and political philosophy in his century. His own
mantle was taken up, or attempted to be taken up, by Pierre Charron[215].
Born at Paris in 1541, he was thoroughly educated; studied law, in which he
proceeded to a doctor's degree, and was called to the Paris bar, but then
suddenly entered the Church, and became renowned as a preacher. He even
thought of embracing the monastic life—a waste of ability which the
ecclesiastical authorities, conscious of their need of eloquent advocates, did
not permit. Charron belonged rather to the moderate or politique party than
to the fanatics of Catholicism, and he directly attacked the League in his
Discours Chrétiens, published in 1589. Five years later appeared a regular
theological treatise entitled Les Trois Vérités, affirming, first, the unity of
God, and consequently of orthodox religion; secondly, the sole authority of
Christianity among religions; thirdly, the sole authority of Catholicism
among Christian churches and sects. He held various preferments, and was
a member of the special synod held to admit Henri IV. to the Roman
communion. The only work by which he is generally remembered, the
treatise De la Sagesse, was published in 1601. Charron died two years later,
after preparing a second and somewhat altered edition of the book. Charron
was a personal friend of Montaigne, was undoubtedly his disciple, and
borrowed largely, and in many cases verbally, from the Essais. His book,
however, is far inferior both in style and matter to his master's, and Pope's
praise of 'more wise Charron' can be due only to the fact that it is much
more definitely sceptical. In curious contrast to its author's dogmatically
theological treatise, De la Sagesse goes to prove that all religions are more
or less of human origin, and that they are all indebted one to the other. The
and not merely a lucky practitioner of style, may be judged from his
singling out Amyot as the great master of it among his own immediate
predecessors. In so far, indeed, as prose style goes, master and scholar must
undoubtedly take rank at the head of all the writers of the century when
bulk and variety of examples are taken into account.
Although, as has been already noted, Montaigne has
many sides, his most striking peculiarity may be said to Charron.
be the mixture of philosophical speculation, especially
on ethical and political topics, with attention to the historical side of human
life both in the past and in the present. He was, however, by no means the
only teacher of ethics and political philosophy in his century. His own
mantle was taken up, or attempted to be taken up, by Pierre Charron[215].
Born at Paris in 1541, he was thoroughly educated; studied law, in which he
proceeded to a doctor's degree, and was called to the Paris bar, but then
suddenly entered the Church, and became renowned as a preacher. He even
thought of embracing the monastic life—a waste of ability which the
ecclesiastical authorities, conscious of their need of eloquent advocates, did
not permit. Charron belonged rather to the moderate or politique party than
to the fanatics of Catholicism, and he directly attacked the League in his
Discours Chrétiens, published in 1589. Five years later appeared a regular
theological treatise entitled Les Trois Vérités, affirming, first, the unity of
God, and consequently of orthodox religion; secondly, the sole authority of
Christianity among religions; thirdly, the sole authority of Catholicism
among Christian churches and sects. He held various preferments, and was
a member of the special synod held to admit Henri IV. to the Roman
communion. The only work by which he is generally remembered, the
treatise De la Sagesse, was published in 1601. Charron died two years later,
after preparing a second and somewhat altered edition of the book. Charron
was a personal friend of Montaigne, was undoubtedly his disciple, and
borrowed largely, and in many cases verbally, from the Essais. His book,
however, is far inferior both in style and matter to his master's, and Pope's
praise of 'more wise Charron' can be due only to the fact that it is much
more definitely sceptical. In curious contrast to its author's dogmatically
theological treatise, De la Sagesse goes to prove that all religions are more
or less of human origin, and that they are all indebted one to the other. The
Page 278
casuistry of the Renaissance on these points was, however, peculiar; and it
has been supposed, with great show of reason, that Charron regarded
orthodoxy as a valuable and necessary condition for the common run of
men, while the elect would prefer a refined Agnosticism.
These sceptical opinions were by no means the invention
of Montaigne; they were part of the new learning grafted Du Vair.
by the study of the classics on the thought of the middle
ages, and had been long anticipated, not merely in Italy but in France itself.
The poet and tale-teller, Bonaventure des Périers, had, as has been said,
almost directly satirised Christianity in the Cymbalum Mundi, which
created so great a scandal. On the other hand, Guillaume du Vair, a lawyer
and speaker of eminence, sought, by combining Stoicism and Christianity,
to oppose this sceptical tendency. Du Vair was a writer of great merit, who
exactly reversed the course of Charron, beginning with theology and ending
with law, though he died in double harness, as keeper of the Seals and
bishop of Lisieux. His moral works[216] were numerous: Sainte Philosophie,
De la Philosophie des Stoiques, De la Constance et Consolation des
Calamités Publiques. He translated, not merely Epictetus, which may be
regarded as part of his ethical work, but numerous speeches of the Greek
and Latin orators. He was himself a great speaker, and his best work is his
Discours sur la Loi Salique, which contributed powerfully to the overthrow
of the project for recognising the Infanta as Queen of France. He also wrote
a regular treatise on French oratory. The style of Du Vair is modelled with
some closeness on his classical patterns, but without any trace of pedantry.
A greater name than Du Vair's in purely philosophical
politics is that of Jean Bodin[217], the author of the only Bodin and other
Political Writers.
work of great excellence on the science of politics
before the eighteenth century. Bodin was born at Angers in 1530, became a
lawyer, was king's procureur at Laon, and died there in 1596. His great
work, entitled after Plato La République, appeared in 1578. It was first
published in French, but afterwards enlarged and reissued by the author in
Latin. Bodin follows both Plato and Aristotle to some extent, but especially
Aristotle, in his approach and treatment of his subject. But, unlike his
masters, Bodin declares for absolute monarchy, of course wisely and
temperately administered. The general literary sentiment was perhaps the
other way. The affection of Montaigne, and a certain fertility of rhetorical
has been supposed, with great show of reason, that Charron regarded
orthodoxy as a valuable and necessary condition for the common run of
men, while the elect would prefer a refined Agnosticism.
These sceptical opinions were by no means the invention
of Montaigne; they were part of the new learning grafted Du Vair.
by the study of the classics on the thought of the middle
ages, and had been long anticipated, not merely in Italy but in France itself.
The poet and tale-teller, Bonaventure des Périers, had, as has been said,
almost directly satirised Christianity in the Cymbalum Mundi, which
created so great a scandal. On the other hand, Guillaume du Vair, a lawyer
and speaker of eminence, sought, by combining Stoicism and Christianity,
to oppose this sceptical tendency. Du Vair was a writer of great merit, who
exactly reversed the course of Charron, beginning with theology and ending
with law, though he died in double harness, as keeper of the Seals and
bishop of Lisieux. His moral works[216] were numerous: Sainte Philosophie,
De la Philosophie des Stoiques, De la Constance et Consolation des
Calamités Publiques. He translated, not merely Epictetus, which may be
regarded as part of his ethical work, but numerous speeches of the Greek
and Latin orators. He was himself a great speaker, and his best work is his
Discours sur la Loi Salique, which contributed powerfully to the overthrow
of the project for recognising the Infanta as Queen of France. He also wrote
a regular treatise on French oratory. The style of Du Vair is modelled with
some closeness on his classical patterns, but without any trace of pedantry.
A greater name than Du Vair's in purely philosophical
politics is that of Jean Bodin[217], the author of the only Bodin and other
Political Writers.
work of great excellence on the science of politics
before the eighteenth century. Bodin was born at Angers in 1530, became a
lawyer, was king's procureur at Laon, and died there in 1596. His great
work, entitled after Plato La République, appeared in 1578. It was first
published in French, but afterwards enlarged and reissued by the author in
Latin. Bodin follows both Plato and Aristotle to some extent, but especially
Aristotle, in his approach and treatment of his subject. But, unlike his
masters, Bodin declares for absolute monarchy, of course wisely and
temperately administered. The general literary sentiment was perhaps the
other way. The affection of Montaigne, and a certain fertility of rhetorical
Page 279
commonplace which has always seduced Frenchmen in political matters,
have given undue reputation to the Contre-un or Discours de la Servitude
volontaire of Étienne de la Boëtie[218]. In reality it is but a schoolboy theme,
recalling the silly chatter about Harmodius and Brutus which was popular at
the time of the Revolution. Many other political works were published in
the course of the religious wars, but having been for the most part written in
Latin, or translated by others than their authors, they do not concern us. The
excellent Michel de l'Hospital, however, published many speeches, letters,
and pamphlets on the side of conciliation, for the most part better intended
than written; and the famous Protestants La Noue and Duplessis-Mornay
were frequent writers on political subjects.
The complement and counterpart of this moralising on
human business and pleasure is necessarily to be found Brantôme.
in chronicles of that business and that pleasure as
actually pursued. In these the sixteenth century is extraordinarily rich.
Correspondence had hardly yet attained the importance in French literature
which it afterwards acquired, but professed history and, still more, personal
memoirs were largely written. The name of Brantôme[219] has been chosen
as the central and representative name of this section of writers, because he
is on the whole the most original and certainly the most famous of them.
His work, moreover, has more than one point of resemblance to that of the
great contemporary author with whom he is linked at the head of this
chapter. Brantôme neither wrote actual history nor directly personal
memoirs. His work rather consists of desultory biographical essays, forming
a curious pendant to the desultory moral essays of Montaigne. But around
him rank many writers, some historians pure and simple, some memoir-
writers pure and simple, of whom not a few approach him in literary genius,
and surpass him in correctness and finish of style, while almost all exceed
him in whatever advantage may be derived from uniformity of plan, and
from regard to the decencies of literature.
Pierre de Bourdeilles (who derived the name by which he is, and indeed
was during his lifetime, generally known from an abbacy given to him by
Henri II. when he was still a boy) was born about 1540, in the province of
Perigord, but the exact date and place of his birth have not been ascertained.
He was the third son of François, Comte de Bourdeilles, and his mother,
Anne de Vivonne de la Chataigneraie, was the sister of the famous duellist
have given undue reputation to the Contre-un or Discours de la Servitude
volontaire of Étienne de la Boëtie[218]. In reality it is but a schoolboy theme,
recalling the silly chatter about Harmodius and Brutus which was popular at
the time of the Revolution. Many other political works were published in
the course of the religious wars, but having been for the most part written in
Latin, or translated by others than their authors, they do not concern us. The
excellent Michel de l'Hospital, however, published many speeches, letters,
and pamphlets on the side of conciliation, for the most part better intended
than written; and the famous Protestants La Noue and Duplessis-Mornay
were frequent writers on political subjects.
The complement and counterpart of this moralising on
human business and pleasure is necessarily to be found Brantôme.
in chronicles of that business and that pleasure as
actually pursued. In these the sixteenth century is extraordinarily rich.
Correspondence had hardly yet attained the importance in French literature
which it afterwards acquired, but professed history and, still more, personal
memoirs were largely written. The name of Brantôme[219] has been chosen
as the central and representative name of this section of writers, because he
is on the whole the most original and certainly the most famous of them.
His work, moreover, has more than one point of resemblance to that of the
great contemporary author with whom he is linked at the head of this
chapter. Brantôme neither wrote actual history nor directly personal
memoirs. His work rather consists of desultory biographical essays, forming
a curious pendant to the desultory moral essays of Montaigne. But around
him rank many writers, some historians pure and simple, some memoir-
writers pure and simple, of whom not a few approach him in literary genius,
and surpass him in correctness and finish of style, while almost all exceed
him in whatever advantage may be derived from uniformity of plan, and
from regard to the decencies of literature.
Pierre de Bourdeilles (who derived the name by which he is, and indeed
was during his lifetime, generally known from an abbacy given to him by
Henri II. when he was still a boy) was born about 1540, in the province of
Perigord, but the exact date and place of his birth have not been ascertained.
He was the third son of François, Comte de Bourdeilles, and his mother,
Anne de Vivonne de la Chataigneraie, was the sister of the famous duellist
Page 280
whose encounter with Jarnac his nephew has described in a well-known
passage. In the court of Marguerite d'Angoulême, the literary nursery of so
great a part of the talent of France at this time, he passed his early youth,
went to school at Paris and at Poitiers, and was made Abbé de Brantôme at
the age of sixteen. He was thus sufficiently provided for, and he never took
any orders, but was a courtier and a soldier throughout the whole of his
active life. Indeed almost the first use he made of his benefice was to equip
himself and a respectable suite for a journey into Italy, where he served
under the Maréchal de Brissac. He accompanied Mary Stuart to Scotland,
served in the Spanish army in Africa, volunteered for the relief of Malta
from the Turks, and again for the expedition destined to assist Hungary
against Soliman, and in other ways led the life of a knight-errant. The
religious wars in his own country gave him plenty of employment; but in
the reigns of Charles IX. and Henri III. he was more particularly attached to
the suite of the queen dowager and her daughter Marguerite. He was,
however, somewhat disappointed in his hopes of recompense; and after
hesitating for a time between the Royalists, the Leaguers, and the
Spaniards, he left the court, retired into private life, and began to write his
memoirs, partly in consequence of a severe accident. He seems to have
begun to write about 1594, and he lived for twenty years longer, dying on
the 15th of July, 1614.
The form of Brantôme's works is, as has been said, peculiar. They are
usually divided into two parts, dealing respectively with men and women.
The first part in its turn consists of many sub-divisions, the chief of which is
made up of the Vies des Grands Capitaines Étrangers et Français, while
others consist of separate disquisitions or essays, Des Rodomontades
Espagnoles, 'On some Duels and Challenges in France' and elsewhere, 'On
certain Retreats, and how they are sometimes better than Battles,' etc. Of the
part which is devoted to women the chief portion is the celebrated Dames
Galantes, which is preceded by a series of Vies des Dames Illustres,
matching the Grands Capitaines. The Dames Galantes is subdivided into
eight discourses, with titles which smack of Montaigne, as thus, 'Qu'il n'est
bien séant de parler mal des honnestes dames bien qu'elles fassent l'amour,'
'Sçavoir qui est plus belle chose en amour,' etc. These discourses are,
however, in reality little but a congeries of anecdotes, often scandalous
enough. Besides these, his principal works, Brantôme left divers Opuscula,
passage. In the court of Marguerite d'Angoulême, the literary nursery of so
great a part of the talent of France at this time, he passed his early youth,
went to school at Paris and at Poitiers, and was made Abbé de Brantôme at
the age of sixteen. He was thus sufficiently provided for, and he never took
any orders, but was a courtier and a soldier throughout the whole of his
active life. Indeed almost the first use he made of his benefice was to equip
himself and a respectable suite for a journey into Italy, where he served
under the Maréchal de Brissac. He accompanied Mary Stuart to Scotland,
served in the Spanish army in Africa, volunteered for the relief of Malta
from the Turks, and again for the expedition destined to assist Hungary
against Soliman, and in other ways led the life of a knight-errant. The
religious wars in his own country gave him plenty of employment; but in
the reigns of Charles IX. and Henri III. he was more particularly attached to
the suite of the queen dowager and her daughter Marguerite. He was,
however, somewhat disappointed in his hopes of recompense; and after
hesitating for a time between the Royalists, the Leaguers, and the
Spaniards, he left the court, retired into private life, and began to write his
memoirs, partly in consequence of a severe accident. He seems to have
begun to write about 1594, and he lived for twenty years longer, dying on
the 15th of July, 1614.
The form of Brantôme's works is, as has been said, peculiar. They are
usually divided into two parts, dealing respectively with men and women.
The first part in its turn consists of many sub-divisions, the chief of which is
made up of the Vies des Grands Capitaines Étrangers et Français, while
others consist of separate disquisitions or essays, Des Rodomontades
Espagnoles, 'On some Duels and Challenges in France' and elsewhere, 'On
certain Retreats, and how they are sometimes better than Battles,' etc. Of the
part which is devoted to women the chief portion is the celebrated Dames
Galantes, which is preceded by a series of Vies des Dames Illustres,
matching the Grands Capitaines. The Dames Galantes is subdivided into
eight discourses, with titles which smack of Montaigne, as thus, 'Qu'il n'est
bien séant de parler mal des honnestes dames bien qu'elles fassent l'amour,'
'Sçavoir qui est plus belle chose en amour,' etc. These discourses are,
however, in reality little but a congeries of anecdotes, often scandalous
enough. Besides these, his principal works, Brantôme left divers Opuscula,
Page 281
some of which are definitely literary, dealing chiefly with Lucan. None of
his works were published in his lifetime, nor did any appear in print until
1659. Meanwhile manuscript copies had, as usual, been multiplied, with the
result, also usual, that the text was much falsified and mutilated.
The great merit of Brantôme lies in the extraordinary vividness of his
powers of literary presentment. His style is careless, though it is probable
that the carelessness is not unstudied. But his irregular, brightly coloured,
and easily flowing manner represents, as hardly any age has ever been
represented, the characteristics of the great society of his time. It is needless
to say that the morals of that time were utterly corrupt, but Brantôme
accepts them with a placid complacency which is almost innocent. No
writer, perhaps, has ever put things more disgraceful on paper; but no writer
has ever written of such things in such a perfectly natural manner. Brantôme
was in his way a hero-worshipper, though his heroes and heroines were
sometimes oddly coupled. Bayard and Marguerite de Valois represent his
ideals, and a good knight or a beautiful lady de par le monde can do no
wrong. This unquestioning acceptance of, and belief in, the moral standards
of his own society, give a genuineness and a freshness to his work which
are very rare in literature. Few writers, again, have had the knack of hitting
off character, superficially it is true, yet with sufficient distinction, which
Brantôme has. There is something individual about all the innumerable
characters who move across his stage, and something thoroughly human
about all, even the anonymous men and women, who appear for a moment
as the actors in some too frequently discreditable scene. With all this there
is a considerable vein of moralising in Brantôme which serves to throw up
the relief of his actual narratives. He has sometimes been compared to
Pepys, but, except in point of garrulity and of readiness to set down on
paper anything that came into their heads, there is little likeness between the
two. Brantôme was emphatically an écrivain (unscholarly and Italianised as
his phrase sometimes appears, if judged by the standards of a severer age),
and some of the best passages from his works are among the most striking
examples of French prose.
his works were published in his lifetime, nor did any appear in print until
1659. Meanwhile manuscript copies had, as usual, been multiplied, with the
result, also usual, that the text was much falsified and mutilated.
The great merit of Brantôme lies in the extraordinary vividness of his
powers of literary presentment. His style is careless, though it is probable
that the carelessness is not unstudied. But his irregular, brightly coloured,
and easily flowing manner represents, as hardly any age has ever been
represented, the characteristics of the great society of his time. It is needless
to say that the morals of that time were utterly corrupt, but Brantôme
accepts them with a placid complacency which is almost innocent. No
writer, perhaps, has ever put things more disgraceful on paper; but no writer
has ever written of such things in such a perfectly natural manner. Brantôme
was in his way a hero-worshipper, though his heroes and heroines were
sometimes oddly coupled. Bayard and Marguerite de Valois represent his
ideals, and a good knight or a beautiful lady de par le monde can do no
wrong. This unquestioning acceptance of, and belief in, the moral standards
of his own society, give a genuineness and a freshness to his work which
are very rare in literature. Few writers, again, have had the knack of hitting
off character, superficially it is true, yet with sufficient distinction, which
Brantôme has. There is something individual about all the innumerable
characters who move across his stage, and something thoroughly human
about all, even the anonymous men and women, who appear for a moment
as the actors in some too frequently discreditable scene. With all this there
is a considerable vein of moralising in Brantôme which serves to throw up
the relief of his actual narratives. He has sometimes been compared to
Pepys, but, except in point of garrulity and of readiness to set down on
paper anything that came into their heads, there is little likeness between the
two. Brantôme was emphatically an écrivain (unscholarly and Italianised as
his phrase sometimes appears, if judged by the standards of a severer age),
and some of the best passages from his works are among the most striking
examples of French prose.
Page 282
Next to Brantôme, and in some respects above him,
though of a somewhat less remarkable idiosyncrasy, Montluc.
come Montluc, La Noue, and D'Aubigné, with
Marguerite de Valois not far behind. Blaise de Lasseran-Massencôme,
Seigneur de Montluc[220], was a typical cadet de Gascogne, though he was
not, strictly speaking, a cadet, being the eldest son of a fortuneless house.
He became page to Antoine of Lorraine, and made his first campaign under
the orders of Bayard, fighting through the whole of the Italian war, and
being knighted on the field at Cérisoles. In the next reign he was promoted
to high command, and held Sienna against the Imperialists with
distinguished gallantry and skill. When the civil war broke out he was made
Governor of Guyenne, where he maintained order with the strong hand,
'heading and hanging' Catholics and Protestants alike, if they showed signs
of disloyalty. Ruthless as he was, he was one of the few great officers who
refused to participate in the massacre of St. Bartholomew. He was made a
marshal in 1574, and died three years later. Montluc's Memoirs are purely
military, and the most famous description of them is that of Henri IV., who
called them the soldier's Bible. His style is concise, free from the slightest
attempt at elaborate ornament, but admirably picturesque and clear. His
account of his exploit at Sienna is one of the capital chapters of French
military history. But almost any page of Montluc possesses eminently the
characteristics which great generals from Cæsar downwards have almost
uniformly displayed, when they possess any literary talent at all. The words
and sentences are marshalled and managed like an army; everything goes
straight to the point; there is no confusion, and the whole complicated scene
is as clear as a geometrical diagram.
The Memoirs of La Noue are usually spoken of
separately, though in reality they form a part of his La Noue.
Discours Politiques et Militaires. François de la Noue,
called Bras-de-Fer (a surname which he deserved not metaphorically, but
literally, having had to replace one of his arms shot off during a siege), was
a Breton, and of a good family. He was born in 1531, fought through the
religious wars, escaped St. Bartholomew by being Alva's prisoner in
Flanders, took an active part against the League, and died at the siege of
Lamballe, Aug. 4, 1591. His defence of La Rochelle was one of the chief of
his many feats of arms. The 'Discourses' were published during his life.
though of a somewhat less remarkable idiosyncrasy, Montluc.
come Montluc, La Noue, and D'Aubigné, with
Marguerite de Valois not far behind. Blaise de Lasseran-Massencôme,
Seigneur de Montluc[220], was a typical cadet de Gascogne, though he was
not, strictly speaking, a cadet, being the eldest son of a fortuneless house.
He became page to Antoine of Lorraine, and made his first campaign under
the orders of Bayard, fighting through the whole of the Italian war, and
being knighted on the field at Cérisoles. In the next reign he was promoted
to high command, and held Sienna against the Imperialists with
distinguished gallantry and skill. When the civil war broke out he was made
Governor of Guyenne, where he maintained order with the strong hand,
'heading and hanging' Catholics and Protestants alike, if they showed signs
of disloyalty. Ruthless as he was, he was one of the few great officers who
refused to participate in the massacre of St. Bartholomew. He was made a
marshal in 1574, and died three years later. Montluc's Memoirs are purely
military, and the most famous description of them is that of Henri IV., who
called them the soldier's Bible. His style is concise, free from the slightest
attempt at elaborate ornament, but admirably picturesque and clear. His
account of his exploit at Sienna is one of the capital chapters of French
military history. But almost any page of Montluc possesses eminently the
characteristics which great generals from Cæsar downwards have almost
uniformly displayed, when they possess any literary talent at all. The words
and sentences are marshalled and managed like an army; everything goes
straight to the point; there is no confusion, and the whole complicated scene
is as clear as a geometrical diagram.
The Memoirs of La Noue are usually spoken of
separately, though in reality they form a part of his La Noue.
Discours Politiques et Militaires. François de la Noue,
called Bras-de-Fer (a surname which he deserved not metaphorically, but
literally, having had to replace one of his arms shot off during a siege), was
a Breton, and of a good family. He was born in 1531, fought through the
religious wars, escaped St. Bartholomew by being Alva's prisoner in
Flanders, took an active part against the League, and died at the siege of
Lamballe, Aug. 4, 1591. His defence of La Rochelle was one of the chief of
his many feats of arms. The 'Discourses' were published during his life.
Page 283
They are of a more reflective character than those of Montluc, and display
much greater mental cultivation. The style is not quite so vivid, the
sentences are longer and more charged with thought. La Noue, in short, is a
philosophical soldier and a politician. His style is perhaps less archaic than
that of any of his contemporaries, and is distinguished by a remarkable
strength, sobriety, and precision. He was very highly thought of by both
political parties, and was not unfrequently employed in schemes of
mediation. It is a pleasant story, and not irrelevant in a history of literature,
that a scheme for his assassination during one of his visits to Paris was
discovered by Brantôme, who warned his future craftsfellow of it.
Agrippa d'Aubigné belongs to this section of the subject
by his Vie à ses Enfants, often called his memoirs, by his Agrippa d'Aubigné.
Histoire Universelle, and by a great number of letters.
The same qualities which distinguish D'Aubigné in verse are recognisable
in his prose, his passionate and insubordinate temper, the keenness of his
satire, the somewhat turbid grandeur of his style and images, the vigour and
picturesqueness of occasional traits. The Histoire Universelle and the Vie à
ses Enfants were both works written in old age, but there is hardly any sign
of failing power in them. The Vie in particular contains many passages, such
as the vision of his mother and the passionate charge which his father laid
upon him at the sight of the victims of the Amboise conspiracy, which rank
very high among the prose of the century. The Histoire Universelle, like the
book which Raleigh wrote almost at the same time, and under not dissimilar
circumstances, is necessarily in great part a compilation, but has many
passages worthy of its author at his best.
The Memoirs of Marguerite de Valois contain what is
perhaps the best-known and oftenest quoted passage of Marguerite de
Valois.
any memoirs of the time, that in which the Princess
describes the night of St. Bartholomew. There are not many such stirring
passages in them, but throughout Marguerite gives evidence of the
remarkable talent which distinguished the Valois. Her evident object is to
justify herself, and this makes the book somewhat artificial. It is dedicated
to Brantôme, but shows in its manner rather the influence of Ronsard and
the Pléiade by the classical correctness of the style, the absence of
archaisms, and the precision and form of the sentences. According to the
much greater mental cultivation. The style is not quite so vivid, the
sentences are longer and more charged with thought. La Noue, in short, is a
philosophical soldier and a politician. His style is perhaps less archaic than
that of any of his contemporaries, and is distinguished by a remarkable
strength, sobriety, and precision. He was very highly thought of by both
political parties, and was not unfrequently employed in schemes of
mediation. It is a pleasant story, and not irrelevant in a history of literature,
that a scheme for his assassination during one of his visits to Paris was
discovered by Brantôme, who warned his future craftsfellow of it.
Agrippa d'Aubigné belongs to this section of the subject
by his Vie à ses Enfants, often called his memoirs, by his Agrippa d'Aubigné.
Histoire Universelle, and by a great number of letters.
The same qualities which distinguish D'Aubigné in verse are recognisable
in his prose, his passionate and insubordinate temper, the keenness of his
satire, the somewhat turbid grandeur of his style and images, the vigour and
picturesqueness of occasional traits. The Histoire Universelle and the Vie à
ses Enfants were both works written in old age, but there is hardly any sign
of failing power in them. The Vie in particular contains many passages, such
as the vision of his mother and the passionate charge which his father laid
upon him at the sight of the victims of the Amboise conspiracy, which rank
very high among the prose of the century. The Histoire Universelle, like the
book which Raleigh wrote almost at the same time, and under not dissimilar
circumstances, is necessarily in great part a compilation, but has many
passages worthy of its author at his best.
The Memoirs of Marguerite de Valois contain what is
perhaps the best-known and oftenest quoted passage of Marguerite de
Valois.
any memoirs of the time, that in which the Princess
describes the night of St. Bartholomew. There are not many such stirring
passages in them, but throughout Marguerite gives evidence of the
remarkable talent which distinguished the Valois. Her evident object is to
justify herself, and this makes the book somewhat artificial. It is dedicated
to Brantôme, but shows in its manner rather the influence of Ronsard and
the Pléiade by the classical correctness of the style, the absence of
archaisms, and the precision and form of the sentences. According to the
Page 284
principles of the school, the vocabulary is simple and vernacular enough,
for the Pléiade regarded ornate classicisms of language as proper to poetry.
In a rank not much below those mentioned must be placed the so-called
Mémoires de Vieilleville, the Chronologies of Palma-Cayet, the Registres-
Journaux of Pierre de l'Estoile, the Letters of Duplessis-Mornay, Cardinal
d'Ossat, and Henri IV. himself, and the Négotiations of the President
Jeannin.
The Maréchal de Vieilleville was one of the foremost
French generals of the sixteenth century, and, Vieilleville.
considering the violent and unscrupulous ways of the
time, he had a good reputation for moderation, probity, and patriotism, as
well as for courage and ability. His Memoirs are not his own work, but that
of his secretary and lifelong companion, Vincent Carloix. They have some
of the defects of a deliberate panegyric; but Carloix is a vigorous and able
writer, who, without completely emancipating himself from the tyranny of
the long involved sentence, contrives to write clearly, and often with much
picturesque effect.
Pierre Victor Palma-Cayet was of mean extraction, but
received a good education, and was introduced by La Palma-Cayet.
Noue to Jeanne d'Albret as a suitable assistant-tutor for
her son. After the accession of his pupil, he was appointed to various
offices, one of which, that of Chronologer Royal, no doubt occasioned the
odd titles of his two principal works, Chronologie Novénaire and
Chronologie Septénaire, which give the history of Henri's reign, dividing it
into two portions, the one of nine years, the other of seven. Cayet also wrote
several minor works, and divides with D'Aubigné the doubtful honour of
being the author of the Divorce Satirique, a scurrilous pamphlet against
Marguerite. The Chronologies are extremely full of matter, and admirably
precise in their information, but their literary value is not great.
From this point of view Pierre de l'Estoile[221] is of a
higher class. He was a lawyer of rank and an Pierre de l'Estoile.
indefatigable writer. Day by day he put down in his
Tablettes all sorts of public and private affairs, as well as literary extracts,
obituary notices, and, in short, almost the entire material of a modern
for the Pléiade regarded ornate classicisms of language as proper to poetry.
In a rank not much below those mentioned must be placed the so-called
Mémoires de Vieilleville, the Chronologies of Palma-Cayet, the Registres-
Journaux of Pierre de l'Estoile, the Letters of Duplessis-Mornay, Cardinal
d'Ossat, and Henri IV. himself, and the Négotiations of the President
Jeannin.
The Maréchal de Vieilleville was one of the foremost
French generals of the sixteenth century, and, Vieilleville.
considering the violent and unscrupulous ways of the
time, he had a good reputation for moderation, probity, and patriotism, as
well as for courage and ability. His Memoirs are not his own work, but that
of his secretary and lifelong companion, Vincent Carloix. They have some
of the defects of a deliberate panegyric; but Carloix is a vigorous and able
writer, who, without completely emancipating himself from the tyranny of
the long involved sentence, contrives to write clearly, and often with much
picturesque effect.
Pierre Victor Palma-Cayet was of mean extraction, but
received a good education, and was introduced by La Palma-Cayet.
Noue to Jeanne d'Albret as a suitable assistant-tutor for
her son. After the accession of his pupil, he was appointed to various
offices, one of which, that of Chronologer Royal, no doubt occasioned the
odd titles of his two principal works, Chronologie Novénaire and
Chronologie Septénaire, which give the history of Henri's reign, dividing it
into two portions, the one of nine years, the other of seven. Cayet also wrote
several minor works, and divides with D'Aubigné the doubtful honour of
being the author of the Divorce Satirique, a scurrilous pamphlet against
Marguerite. The Chronologies are extremely full of matter, and admirably
precise in their information, but their literary value is not great.
From this point of view Pierre de l'Estoile[221] is of a
higher class. He was a lawyer of rank and an Pierre de l'Estoile.
indefatigable writer. Day by day he put down in his
Tablettes all sorts of public and private affairs, as well as literary extracts,
obituary notices, and, in short, almost the entire material of a modern
Page 285
newspaper. Pierre de l'Estoile, much more than Brantôme, is the French
Pepys. Although occasionally prejudiced, the writer seems to have been
acute and well-informed, and his manner of dealing with his heterogeneous
materials is light and lively.
Of the three correspondence-writers just mentioned,
though Henri himself is a vigorous and fertile writer, the D'Ossat.
most important by far is Cardinal D'Ossat. He was born
in the south of France in 1536, and had not, unlike many of the diplomatist
ecclesiastics of the period, the advantage of high birth. Like many of his
contemporaries, he began as a lawyer and only subsequently took orders.
He began diplomatic life as Secretary to the Archbishop of Toulouse, who
was ambassador at Rome, and later on conducted the negotiations which led
to the conversion of Henri IV. He then became Bishop of Rennes and
cardinal. His letters are almost entirely devoted to subjects connected with
his profession, and have always held a position as one of the earliest models
of diplomatic writing. D'Ossat's style, especially in respect of its
vocabulary, was long regarded as a pattern, but it has less character than
that of some other sixteenth-century writers.
The last two books to be named belong, in point of date,
to the next century, but were written by, or for, men who Sully.
were emphatically of the sixteenth. The extraordinary
form of Sully's Memoirs is well known. They are neither written as if by
himself, nor of him as by a historian of the usual kind. They are directly
addressed to the hero in the form of an elaborate reminder of his own
actions. 'You then said this;' 'his Majesty thereupon sent you there;' 'when
you were two leagues from your halting-place, you saw a courier coming,'
etc. It is needless to say that this manner of telling history is in the highest
degree unnatural and heavy, and, after the first quaintness of it wears off, it
makes the book very hard to read. It contains, however, a very large number
of short memoirs and documents of all kinds, in which the elaborate farce
of 'Vous' is perforce abandoned. It shows Sully as he was—a great and
skilful statesman: but it does not give a pleasant idea of his character.
Pierre Jeannin was, like D'Ossat, a diplomatist in the
service of Henri IV. He had previously discharged many Jeannin.
legal functions of importance, and subsequently he was
Pepys. Although occasionally prejudiced, the writer seems to have been
acute and well-informed, and his manner of dealing with his heterogeneous
materials is light and lively.
Of the three correspondence-writers just mentioned,
though Henri himself is a vigorous and fertile writer, the D'Ossat.
most important by far is Cardinal D'Ossat. He was born
in the south of France in 1536, and had not, unlike many of the diplomatist
ecclesiastics of the period, the advantage of high birth. Like many of his
contemporaries, he began as a lawyer and only subsequently took orders.
He began diplomatic life as Secretary to the Archbishop of Toulouse, who
was ambassador at Rome, and later on conducted the negotiations which led
to the conversion of Henri IV. He then became Bishop of Rennes and
cardinal. His letters are almost entirely devoted to subjects connected with
his profession, and have always held a position as one of the earliest models
of diplomatic writing. D'Ossat's style, especially in respect of its
vocabulary, was long regarded as a pattern, but it has less character than
that of some other sixteenth-century writers.
The last two books to be named belong, in point of date,
to the next century, but were written by, or for, men who Sully.
were emphatically of the sixteenth. The extraordinary
form of Sully's Memoirs is well known. They are neither written as if by
himself, nor of him as by a historian of the usual kind. They are directly
addressed to the hero in the form of an elaborate reminder of his own
actions. 'You then said this;' 'his Majesty thereupon sent you there;' 'when
you were two leagues from your halting-place, you saw a courier coming,'
etc. It is needless to say that this manner of telling history is in the highest
degree unnatural and heavy, and, after the first quaintness of it wears off, it
makes the book very hard to read. It contains, however, a very large number
of short memoirs and documents of all kinds, in which the elaborate farce
of 'Vous' is perforce abandoned. It shows Sully as he was—a great and
skilful statesman: but it does not give a pleasant idea of his character.
Pierre Jeannin was, like D'Ossat, a diplomatist in the
service of Henri IV. He had previously discharged many Jeannin.
legal functions of importance, and subsequently he was
Page 286
Controller-General of the Finances. His Négotiations contain the record of
his proceedings on a mission to the Netherlands to watch over the interests
of France. The book consists of letters, despatches, treaties, and such-like
documents, very clear, precise, and written in a remarkably simple and
natural style.
There were many other writers of memoirs during the
period, most of whose works are comprised in the Minor Memoir-
invaluable collections of Petitot, Michaud, Poujoulat, writers.
and Buchon. But few of them require a separate mention here. Guillaume
and Martin du Bellay, two brothers, have left a history of Francis I.'s reign,
of which the part belonging to Guillaume is only a small fragment of an
immense work which he entitled Les Ogdoades, it being divided into seven
batches of eight books each. The imitation of the classics is obvious, and
the constant intrusion of classical parallels rather tedious. The Memoirs of
the Duke of Guise, composed in great part of what we should call his
secretary's letter-book, are very voluminous, but not of much literary value.
François de Rabutin, author of Commentaires des Guerres de la Gaule
Belgique, has the fault, common to his time, of enormous sentences, but is
often lively and picturesque enough, as becomes a member of the family of
Madame de Sévigné and of Bussy-Rabutin. The famous Marshal de
Tavannes, on whom more than on any single man rests the blood of St.
Bartholomew's Day, found a biographer in his son Jean de Tavannes, whose
work, though somewhat too elaborate, is interesting. Another son,
Guillaume de Saulx-Tavannes, has written his own memoirs on a smaller
scale. The memoirs of Michel de Castelnau show more of the tradition of
Comines than most of their contemporaries, and are remarkably full of
political studies. Boyvin du Villars, of whom little is known, left
voluminous memoirs which have some literary merit. The last book of
memoirs of some size which needs to be mentioned, is that of Nicholas de
Neufville, Seigneur de Villeroy, a politician of eminence and a vigorous
writer. Some short pieces may be noticed, such as the Siege of Metz, by
Bertrand de Salignac, that of St. Quentin, by Coligny himself, the only
literary monument of the Admiral (an excellent specimen of the military
writing of the time), and a very curious history of Annonay in the Vivarais
by Achille Gamon, which gives perhaps the liveliest idea obtainable of the
sufferings of the French provincial towns during the religious wars.
his proceedings on a mission to the Netherlands to watch over the interests
of France. The book consists of letters, despatches, treaties, and such-like
documents, very clear, precise, and written in a remarkably simple and
natural style.
There were many other writers of memoirs during the
period, most of whose works are comprised in the Minor Memoir-
invaluable collections of Petitot, Michaud, Poujoulat, writers.
and Buchon. But few of them require a separate mention here. Guillaume
and Martin du Bellay, two brothers, have left a history of Francis I.'s reign,
of which the part belonging to Guillaume is only a small fragment of an
immense work which he entitled Les Ogdoades, it being divided into seven
batches of eight books each. The imitation of the classics is obvious, and
the constant intrusion of classical parallels rather tedious. The Memoirs of
the Duke of Guise, composed in great part of what we should call his
secretary's letter-book, are very voluminous, but not of much literary value.
François de Rabutin, author of Commentaires des Guerres de la Gaule
Belgique, has the fault, common to his time, of enormous sentences, but is
often lively and picturesque enough, as becomes a member of the family of
Madame de Sévigné and of Bussy-Rabutin. The famous Marshal de
Tavannes, on whom more than on any single man rests the blood of St.
Bartholomew's Day, found a biographer in his son Jean de Tavannes, whose
work, though somewhat too elaborate, is interesting. Another son,
Guillaume de Saulx-Tavannes, has written his own memoirs on a smaller
scale. The memoirs of Michel de Castelnau show more of the tradition of
Comines than most of their contemporaries, and are remarkably full of
political studies. Boyvin du Villars, of whom little is known, left
voluminous memoirs which have some literary merit. The last book of
memoirs of some size which needs to be mentioned, is that of Nicholas de
Neufville, Seigneur de Villeroy, a politician of eminence and a vigorous
writer. Some short pieces may be noticed, such as the Siege of Metz, by
Bertrand de Salignac, that of St. Quentin, by Coligny himself, the only
literary monument of the Admiral (an excellent specimen of the military
writing of the time), and a very curious history of Annonay in the Vivarais
by Achille Gamon, which gives perhaps the liveliest idea obtainable of the
sufferings of the French provincial towns during the religious wars.
Page 287
The general histories, which make up a second class of
historical writings, are, as a rule, of very much less value General Historians.
than these personal memoirs. Not till the extreme end of
the period did the historical conception take a firm hold in De Thou, and the
Thuana was written in Latin, which excludes it and its author from detailed
notice here. D'Aubigné's Histoire Universelle of his own time has been
mentioned for convenience' sake already. Lancelot de la Popelinière
attempted in the last quarter of the century a general history of France, and
incidentally of Europe during his own day. He is said to have spent all his
fortune on getting together the materials, but his literary powers were small.
About the same time Bernard Girard, Seigneur du Haillan, published a
history of France from the earliest times, which an extract of Thierry's,
giving the speeches of Charamond and Quadrek, Merovingians of Du
Haillan's own creation, who speak on the advantages of different forms of
government at the election of Pharamond, has made known to many
persons who never saw the original. The source of this grotesque
imagination is of course obvious to readers of Herodotus, and similar
imitation of classical models is frequent in Du Haillan's work. François de
Belleforest also wrote a general history of France, which was long read, and
the names of Du Tillet, Jean de Serres, Charron, Dupleix, etc. may be
mentioned. But they represent writers of little importance, either from the
point of view of history, or from that of literature.
FOOTNOTES:
[213] The standard edition until recently has been that of Le Clerc (4 vols. Paris,
1866). That of Louandre in the Bibliothèque Charpentier is handy and useful.
MM. Courbet and Roger have begun a handsome edition.
[214] The references are to the edition of Louandre.
[215] De la Sagesse. 2 vols. Paris, 1789.
[216] Ed. 1641.
[217] Ed. 1578.
[218] Ed. Feugère. Paris, 1846.
[219] Ed. Buchon. 2 vols. Paris, 1839. The Société de l'Histoire de France has a
voluminous edition on hand. Mérimée, who was a great admirer of Brantôme,
began an edition for the Bibliothèque Elzévirienne, but left it unfinished.
historical writings, are, as a rule, of very much less value General Historians.
than these personal memoirs. Not till the extreme end of
the period did the historical conception take a firm hold in De Thou, and the
Thuana was written in Latin, which excludes it and its author from detailed
notice here. D'Aubigné's Histoire Universelle of his own time has been
mentioned for convenience' sake already. Lancelot de la Popelinière
attempted in the last quarter of the century a general history of France, and
incidentally of Europe during his own day. He is said to have spent all his
fortune on getting together the materials, but his literary powers were small.
About the same time Bernard Girard, Seigneur du Haillan, published a
history of France from the earliest times, which an extract of Thierry's,
giving the speeches of Charamond and Quadrek, Merovingians of Du
Haillan's own creation, who speak on the advantages of different forms of
government at the election of Pharamond, has made known to many
persons who never saw the original. The source of this grotesque
imagination is of course obvious to readers of Herodotus, and similar
imitation of classical models is frequent in Du Haillan's work. François de
Belleforest also wrote a general history of France, which was long read, and
the names of Du Tillet, Jean de Serres, Charron, Dupleix, etc. may be
mentioned. But they represent writers of little importance, either from the
point of view of history, or from that of literature.
FOOTNOTES:
[213] The standard edition until recently has been that of Le Clerc (4 vols. Paris,
1866). That of Louandre in the Bibliothèque Charpentier is handy and useful.
MM. Courbet and Roger have begun a handsome edition.
[214] The references are to the edition of Louandre.
[215] De la Sagesse. 2 vols. Paris, 1789.
[216] Ed. 1641.
[217] Ed. 1578.
[218] Ed. Feugère. Paris, 1846.
[219] Ed. Buchon. 2 vols. Paris, 1839. The Société de l'Histoire de France has a
voluminous edition on hand. Mérimée, who was a great admirer of Brantôme,
began an edition for the Bibliothèque Elzévirienne, but left it unfinished.
Page 288
[220] Montluc's Memoirs, as well as most of those mentioned below, will be
found in the collection of Michaud and Poujoulat.
[221] The earlier editions of this writer are not complete. In 1875 a full reprint
was begun.
found in the collection of Michaud and Poujoulat.
[221] The earlier editions of this writer are not complete. In 1875 a full reprint
was begun.
Page 289
CHAPTER VIII.
THE SATYRE MÉNIPPÉE. REGNIER.
The period of the Renaissance in France closed with two
works (one for the most part in prose and due to various Satyre Ménippée.
authors, the other wholly in verse and the work of one
only) which exhibit the highest excellence. The Satyre Ménippée and the
satires of Regnier are separated in point of date of publication by some
fifteen years, and the contributors to the first-named work belong for the
most part to an earlier generation, and represent a less accomplished state of
the language than the great satirist who, after fifteen centuries, took up the
traditions of his Roman masters. But both are satirical in substance, though
the Ménippée is almost wholly political, and Regnier busies himself with
social and moral subjects only. Both possess in a high degree the
characteristics of the period which they close. Both exhibit a remarkable
power of treating ephemeral subjects in a manner calculated to make their
interest something more than ephemeral. Both have met with the just
reward of continuing to be popular even at times when the most unjust
unpopularity rested on work scarcely less excellent but less calculated to
please the taste of those who, however much they may sympathise with the
fashions of their own day, are unable to sympathise with those of a day
which is not theirs.
The Satyre Ménippée[222] was a remarkable, and, for those who take an
interest both in literature and in politics, a most encouraging instance of the
power of literary treatment at certain crises of political matters. It appeared
in 1594, at the crucial period of the League. For years there had existed the
party known for the most part uncomplimentarily as Les Politiques. These
persons professed themselves unable to find, in the simple difference of
Catholic v. Protestant, a casus belli for Frenchmen against Frenchmen.
Their influence, however, though it occasionally rose to the surface in the
days of Charles IX. and Henri III., had never been lasting, and they
laboured under the charge of being Laodiceans, trimmers, men who cared
THE SATYRE MÉNIPPÉE. REGNIER.
The period of the Renaissance in France closed with two
works (one for the most part in prose and due to various Satyre Ménippée.
authors, the other wholly in verse and the work of one
only) which exhibit the highest excellence. The Satyre Ménippée and the
satires of Regnier are separated in point of date of publication by some
fifteen years, and the contributors to the first-named work belong for the
most part to an earlier generation, and represent a less accomplished state of
the language than the great satirist who, after fifteen centuries, took up the
traditions of his Roman masters. But both are satirical in substance, though
the Ménippée is almost wholly political, and Regnier busies himself with
social and moral subjects only. Both possess in a high degree the
characteristics of the period which they close. Both exhibit a remarkable
power of treating ephemeral subjects in a manner calculated to make their
interest something more than ephemeral. Both have met with the just
reward of continuing to be popular even at times when the most unjust
unpopularity rested on work scarcely less excellent but less calculated to
please the taste of those who, however much they may sympathise with the
fashions of their own day, are unable to sympathise with those of a day
which is not theirs.
The Satyre Ménippée[222] was a remarkable, and, for those who take an
interest both in literature and in politics, a most encouraging instance of the
power of literary treatment at certain crises of political matters. It appeared
in 1594, at the crucial period of the League. For years there had existed the
party known for the most part uncomplimentarily as Les Politiques. These
persons professed themselves unable to find, in the simple difference of
Catholic v. Protestant, a casus belli for Frenchmen against Frenchmen.
Their influence, however, though it occasionally rose to the surface in the
days of Charles IX. and Henri III., had never been lasting, and they
laboured under the charge of being Laodiceans, trimmers, men who cared
Page 290
for nothing but hollow peace and material prosperity. The assassination of
Henri III., and the open confederation between the Leaguers and the
Spanish party, at last gave them their opportunity, and it was seized with an
adroitness which would have been remarkable in a single man, but which is
still more remarkable in a group of men of very different antecedents,
professions, ages, and beliefs. The Satyre Ménippée is, in fact, the first and
most admirable example of the theory of the modern newspaper—the
theory that the combined ability of many men is likely, on the whole, to
treat complicated and ephemeral affairs better than the limited, though
perhaps individually greater, ability of any one man. The Ménippée, prose
and verse, was due to the working of a new Pléiade—Leroy, Gillot,
Passerat, Rapin, Chrestien, Pithou, and Durant. Most of them were lawyers,
a few were more or less connected with the Church. Pierre Leroy, a canon
of Rouen, of whom nothing is known, but whose character De Thou praises,
is said to have planned the book, and to have acted in some way as editor.
Jacques Gillot, clerk-advocate of the Parliament, received the literary
conspirators in his house. Passerat and Rapin represented the mixed
classical and French culture of the immediate companions of Ronsard.
Florent Chrestien was a converted Huguenot, much given to translation of
ancient authors. Pithou (the writer of the harangue of Claude d'Aubray, the
most important piece of the whole and containing the moral and idea of the
book) was, like Chrestien, a convert. He ranks as one of the most
distinguished members of the French bar, and had a deserved reputation for
every kind of learning in his time. Lastly, Durant, who contributed rather to
the appendix of the book than to the book itself, was an Auvergnat
gentleman, who preferred poetry to law, and justified his preference by
some capital work, partly of a satirical kind, partly of an elegant and tender
gallantry, anticipating, as has been justly said, the eighteenth century in
elegance, and excelling it in tenderness.
The plan of the Ménippée (the title of which, it is hardly necessary to say, is
borrowed from the name of the cynic philosopher celebrated by Lucian) is
for the time singularly original and bold; but the spirit in which the subject
is treated is more original still. Generally speaking, the piece has the form
of a compte-rendu of the assembly of the states at Paris. The full title is De
la Vertu du Catholicon d'Espagne et de la Tenue des États de Paris. The
preface contains a sarcastic harangue in orthodox charlatan style on the
Henri III., and the open confederation between the Leaguers and the
Spanish party, at last gave them their opportunity, and it was seized with an
adroitness which would have been remarkable in a single man, but which is
still more remarkable in a group of men of very different antecedents,
professions, ages, and beliefs. The Satyre Ménippée is, in fact, the first and
most admirable example of the theory of the modern newspaper—the
theory that the combined ability of many men is likely, on the whole, to
treat complicated and ephemeral affairs better than the limited, though
perhaps individually greater, ability of any one man. The Ménippée, prose
and verse, was due to the working of a new Pléiade—Leroy, Gillot,
Passerat, Rapin, Chrestien, Pithou, and Durant. Most of them were lawyers,
a few were more or less connected with the Church. Pierre Leroy, a canon
of Rouen, of whom nothing is known, but whose character De Thou praises,
is said to have planned the book, and to have acted in some way as editor.
Jacques Gillot, clerk-advocate of the Parliament, received the literary
conspirators in his house. Passerat and Rapin represented the mixed
classical and French culture of the immediate companions of Ronsard.
Florent Chrestien was a converted Huguenot, much given to translation of
ancient authors. Pithou (the writer of the harangue of Claude d'Aubray, the
most important piece of the whole and containing the moral and idea of the
book) was, like Chrestien, a convert. He ranks as one of the most
distinguished members of the French bar, and had a deserved reputation for
every kind of learning in his time. Lastly, Durant, who contributed rather to
the appendix of the book than to the book itself, was an Auvergnat
gentleman, who preferred poetry to law, and justified his preference by
some capital work, partly of a satirical kind, partly of an elegant and tender
gallantry, anticipating, as has been justly said, the eighteenth century in
elegance, and excelling it in tenderness.
The plan of the Ménippée (the title of which, it is hardly necessary to say, is
borrowed from the name of the cynic philosopher celebrated by Lucian) is
for the time singularly original and bold; but the spirit in which the subject
is treated is more original still. Generally speaking, the piece has the form
of a compte-rendu of the assembly of the states at Paris. The full title is De
la Vertu du Catholicon d'Espagne et de la Tenue des États de Paris. The
preface contains a sarcastic harangue in orthodox charlatan style on the
Page 291
merits of the new Catholicon or Panacea. Then comes a description (in
which, as throughout the work, actual facts are blended inextricably with
satirical comment) of the opening procession. To this succeeds a sketch of
the tapestries with which the hall of meeting was hung, all of which are, of
course, allegorical, and deal with murders of princes, betrayal of native
countries to foreigners, etc. Next comes L'Ordre tenu pour les Séances, in
which the chief personages on the side of the League are enumerated in a
long catalogue, every item of which contains some bitter allusion to the
private or public conduct of the person named. Seven solemn speeches are
then delivered by the Duke de Mayenne as lieutenant, by the legate, by the
Cardinal de Pelvé, by the bishop of Lyons, by Rose, the fanatical rector of
the University, by the Sieur de Rieux, as representative of the nobility; and,
lastly, by a certain Monsieur d'Aubray, for the Tiers-État. A burlesque coda
concludes the volume, the joints of which are, first, a short verse satire on
Pelvé; secondly, a collection of epigrams due to Passerat; and, thirdly,
Durant's Regret Funèbre à Mademoiselle ma Commère sur le Trépas de son
Âne, a delightful satire on the Leaguers, which did not appear in the first
edition, but which yields to few things in the book.
It has been said that the plan of the Ménippée has of itself not a little
originality. Satirical comment and travesty devoted to political affairs had
been common enough almost for centuries in France, but no satire of the
kind had hitherto flown so high, or with so well-organised a flight. The
seven speeches, which form the bulk of the book, display moreover a
remarkable variety and a still more remarkable combination of excellences.
The first six—those of Mayenne, the legate, Pelvé, the bishop of Lyons,
Rose, and Rieux, none of which is long—are, without exception,
caricatures, and of that peculiar order of caricature in which the victim is
made, without a glaring violation of probability, to render himself vile and
ridiculous, and to give utterance to the satire and invective which the author
desires to pour upon him. Butler (who beyond all doubt had the Satyre
Ménippée in his mind when he projected his own immortal travesty of the
Puritan party) is the only writer who has ever come near to its authors in
this particular department of satire. Treated as they were by different hands,
there is a curiously pleasing variety of style in the portraits. Mayenne uses a
mixture of aristocratic and somewhat haughty frankness with garrulous
digression. The two cardinals indulge in an astounding macaronic jargon,
which, as throughout the work, actual facts are blended inextricably with
satirical comment) of the opening procession. To this succeeds a sketch of
the tapestries with which the hall of meeting was hung, all of which are, of
course, allegorical, and deal with murders of princes, betrayal of native
countries to foreigners, etc. Next comes L'Ordre tenu pour les Séances, in
which the chief personages on the side of the League are enumerated in a
long catalogue, every item of which contains some bitter allusion to the
private or public conduct of the person named. Seven solemn speeches are
then delivered by the Duke de Mayenne as lieutenant, by the legate, by the
Cardinal de Pelvé, by the bishop of Lyons, by Rose, the fanatical rector of
the University, by the Sieur de Rieux, as representative of the nobility; and,
lastly, by a certain Monsieur d'Aubray, for the Tiers-État. A burlesque coda
concludes the volume, the joints of which are, first, a short verse satire on
Pelvé; secondly, a collection of epigrams due to Passerat; and, thirdly,
Durant's Regret Funèbre à Mademoiselle ma Commère sur le Trépas de son
Âne, a delightful satire on the Leaguers, which did not appear in the first
edition, but which yields to few things in the book.
It has been said that the plan of the Ménippée has of itself not a little
originality. Satirical comment and travesty devoted to political affairs had
been common enough almost for centuries in France, but no satire of the
kind had hitherto flown so high, or with so well-organised a flight. The
seven speeches, which form the bulk of the book, display moreover a
remarkable variety and a still more remarkable combination of excellences.
The first six—those of Mayenne, the legate, Pelvé, the bishop of Lyons,
Rose, and Rieux, none of which is long—are, without exception,
caricatures, and of that peculiar order of caricature in which the victim is
made, without a glaring violation of probability, to render himself vile and
ridiculous, and to give utterance to the satire and invective which the author
desires to pour upon him. Butler (who beyond all doubt had the Satyre
Ménippée in his mind when he projected his own immortal travesty of the
Puritan party) is the only writer who has ever come near to its authors in
this particular department of satire. Treated as they were by different hands,
there is a curiously pleasing variety of style in the portraits. Mayenne uses a
mixture of aristocratic and somewhat haughty frankness with garrulous
digression. The two cardinals indulge in an astounding macaronic jargon,
Page 292
the one of Italian mingled with Latin, the other of Latin mingled with
French. The bishop of Lyons, and Rose the rector, preach sermons, after the
fashion of the time, thickly larded with quotations, stories, and so forth.
Rieux (he was a noted bandit) expresses with soldierly frankness his
extreme surprise that he should have become a gentleman and the
representative of the nobility, and mildly reproaches Mayenne and the
League for not having given carte-blanche to himself and his likes to finish
off the Politiques bag-and-baggage. But in the last harangue, that of the
representative of the Tiers-État, Claude d'Aubray, which is, as has been
said, the work of Pithou, and which occupies something like half the book,
the tone is entirely altered. In this remarkable discourse the whole political
situation is treated seriously, and with a mixture of practical vigour and
literary skill of which there had hardly been any precedent instance.
D'Aubray denounces the condition of Paris first, and the condition of the
kingdom afterwards. The foreign garrisons, the sufferings of private persons
by the war, the deprivation or suspension of privileges, are all commented
upon. A remarkable historical sketch of the religious wars follows, and then
turn by turn the speaker attacks those who have spoken before him, and
exposes their conduct. A vigorous sketch of 'Le Roy que nous voulons et
que nous aurons,' leads up to the announcement that this king is no other
than 'Notre vray Roy légitime, naturel et souverain, Seigneur Henry de
Bourbon, cy-devant Roy de Navarre.' After this discomposing harangue the
assembly breaks up in some confusion.
The Satyre Ménippée had an immense effect, and may, perhaps, be justly
described as the first example, in modern politics, of a literary work the
effect of which was really great and lasting. It is not surprising that such
should have been its fortune. For it is a remarkably happy mixture of the
older style of gaulois jocularity (in which exaggeration, personal attack,
insinuations of a more or less scandalous character and the like, furnished
the attraction) and the newer style of chastened and comparatively polished
prose. The greater part of the first six speeches are of a more antique cast
than Montaigne; and though the speech of D'Aubray exhibits a more
elaborate and less familiar style, it too is definitely plain and popular in
manner. Although there are the allusions usual at the time to classical
subjects, the Pléiade pedantry, with which at least two of the contributors,
Passerat and Rapin, were sufficiently imbued, is conspicuously absent.
French. The bishop of Lyons, and Rose the rector, preach sermons, after the
fashion of the time, thickly larded with quotations, stories, and so forth.
Rieux (he was a noted bandit) expresses with soldierly frankness his
extreme surprise that he should have become a gentleman and the
representative of the nobility, and mildly reproaches Mayenne and the
League for not having given carte-blanche to himself and his likes to finish
off the Politiques bag-and-baggage. But in the last harangue, that of the
representative of the Tiers-État, Claude d'Aubray, which is, as has been
said, the work of Pithou, and which occupies something like half the book,
the tone is entirely altered. In this remarkable discourse the whole political
situation is treated seriously, and with a mixture of practical vigour and
literary skill of which there had hardly been any precedent instance.
D'Aubray denounces the condition of Paris first, and the condition of the
kingdom afterwards. The foreign garrisons, the sufferings of private persons
by the war, the deprivation or suspension of privileges, are all commented
upon. A remarkable historical sketch of the religious wars follows, and then
turn by turn the speaker attacks those who have spoken before him, and
exposes their conduct. A vigorous sketch of 'Le Roy que nous voulons et
que nous aurons,' leads up to the announcement that this king is no other
than 'Notre vray Roy légitime, naturel et souverain, Seigneur Henry de
Bourbon, cy-devant Roy de Navarre.' After this discomposing harangue the
assembly breaks up in some confusion.
The Satyre Ménippée had an immense effect, and may, perhaps, be justly
described as the first example, in modern politics, of a literary work the
effect of which was really great and lasting. It is not surprising that such
should have been its fortune. For it is a remarkably happy mixture of the
older style of gaulois jocularity (in which exaggeration, personal attack,
insinuations of a more or less scandalous character and the like, furnished
the attraction) and the newer style of chastened and comparatively polished
prose. The greater part of the first six speeches are of a more antique cast
than Montaigne; and though the speech of D'Aubray exhibits a more
elaborate and less familiar style, it too is definitely plain and popular in
manner. Although there are the allusions usual at the time to classical
subjects, the Pléiade pedantry, with which at least two of the contributors,
Passerat and Rapin, were sufficiently imbued, is conspicuously absent.
Page 293
Rabelais is frequently alluded to; and when the style of the book and the
obvious intention of appealing to the general, which it exhibits, are
considered, no better testimony to the popularity of Gargantua and
Pantagruel could be produced. The descriptions, too, have a Rabelaisian
minuteness and richness about them; and in the burlesque parts the
influence of that master is equally perceptible. But the strictly practical
point of view is always maintained; and the temptation, always a strong one
with French writers of the middle age and Renaissance, to lose sight of this
in endless developments of mere amusing buffoonery, is constantly resisted.
There is certainly less exaggeration in the Ménippée than in Hudibras,
though the personal weaknesses of the innumerable individual persons
satirised contribute more to the general effect than they do in Butler's great
satire. The distinguishing trait of the Satyre Ménippée, next to those already
mentioned, is the constant rain of slight ironical touches contributing to the
general effect. Thus the arms of the processioning Leaguers are, 'le tout
rouillé par Humilité Catholique;' the League scholastics and preachers
'forment tous leurs arguments in ferio.' The deputies' benches are covered
with cloth, 'parsemées de croisettes de Lorraine et de larmes miparties de
vair et de faux argent.' These sure and rapid touches distinguish the book
strongly from nearly all mediaeval satire, in which the satirists are wont,
whenever they make a point, to dwell on it, and expound it, and illustrate it,
and make the most of it, until it loses almost all its piquancy. Very different
from this over-elaboration is the confident irony of the Ménippée, which
trusts to the intelligence of the reader for understanding and emphasis.
'Vous prévoyez bien,' says Mayenne, 'les dangers et inconvéniens de la paix
qui met ordre à tout, et rend le droit à qui il appartient.' Hardly even Antoine
de la Salle, and certainly no other among the authors of the preceding
centuries, would have ventured to leave this, obvious as it seems now-a-
days, to reach the reader by itself.
A similar but a still more remarkable, because an
individually complete, example of the combination of Regnier.
Gallican tradition with classical study was soon
afterwards shown by Mathurin Regnier[223]. Regnier was born at Chartres
on the 21st of December, 1573, his father being Jacques Regnier, a citizen
of position; his mother was Simonne Desportes, sister of the poet. Jacques
Regnier desired for his son the ecclesiastical, but not the poetical, eminence
obvious intention of appealing to the general, which it exhibits, are
considered, no better testimony to the popularity of Gargantua and
Pantagruel could be produced. The descriptions, too, have a Rabelaisian
minuteness and richness about them; and in the burlesque parts the
influence of that master is equally perceptible. But the strictly practical
point of view is always maintained; and the temptation, always a strong one
with French writers of the middle age and Renaissance, to lose sight of this
in endless developments of mere amusing buffoonery, is constantly resisted.
There is certainly less exaggeration in the Ménippée than in Hudibras,
though the personal weaknesses of the innumerable individual persons
satirised contribute more to the general effect than they do in Butler's great
satire. The distinguishing trait of the Satyre Ménippée, next to those already
mentioned, is the constant rain of slight ironical touches contributing to the
general effect. Thus the arms of the processioning Leaguers are, 'le tout
rouillé par Humilité Catholique;' the League scholastics and preachers
'forment tous leurs arguments in ferio.' The deputies' benches are covered
with cloth, 'parsemées de croisettes de Lorraine et de larmes miparties de
vair et de faux argent.' These sure and rapid touches distinguish the book
strongly from nearly all mediaeval satire, in which the satirists are wont,
whenever they make a point, to dwell on it, and expound it, and illustrate it,
and make the most of it, until it loses almost all its piquancy. Very different
from this over-elaboration is the confident irony of the Ménippée, which
trusts to the intelligence of the reader for understanding and emphasis.
'Vous prévoyez bien,' says Mayenne, 'les dangers et inconvéniens de la paix
qui met ordre à tout, et rend le droit à qui il appartient.' Hardly even Antoine
de la Salle, and certainly no other among the authors of the preceding
centuries, would have ventured to leave this, obvious as it seems now-a-
days, to reach the reader by itself.
A similar but a still more remarkable, because an
individually complete, example of the combination of Regnier.
Gallican tradition with classical study was soon
afterwards shown by Mathurin Regnier[223]. Regnier was born at Chartres
on the 21st of December, 1573, his father being Jacques Regnier, a citizen
of position; his mother was Simonne Desportes, sister of the poet. Jacques
Regnier desired for his son the ecclesiastical, but not the poetical, eminence
Page 294
of his brother-in-law, and Mathurin was tonsured at nine years old. The boy,
however, wished to follow his uncle's steps in the other direction, and early
began to write. It is said that he wrote lampoons on the inhabitants of his
native town, and, repeating them to the frequenters of a tennis-court which
his father had built, got himself thus into trouble. His father's threats and
punishments, however, had no more effect than is usual in such cases, and
Regnier soon, but at a date not exactly known, betook himself to his uncle
at Paris. By Desportes, who was in favour with many high personages, he
was recommended to the Cardinal de Joyeuse, and took part in that prelate's
embassy to Rome in 1593. Joyeuse, however, did nothing for him, and in
1601 he again went to Rome in the suite of Philippe de Bethune. He
returned before long, and, in 1604, a canonry, to the reversion of which he
had been presented long before, fell in. His first collection of satires
appeared in 1608. Five years afterwards, in 1613, on the 22nd of October,
he died at Rouen, having not quite completed his fortieth year. His way of
life had unfortunately been by no means regular, and his early death is said
to have been directly caused by his excesses.
In this short sketch almost everything that is known of Regnier, except a
few anecdotes, has been included, and the total is, it will be seen,
exceedingly meagre. Nor is his work abundant even for a man who died
comparatively young. Sixteen satires, three epistles, five elegies, and a few
miscellaneous pieces, make it up, and probably the total does not exceed
seven or eight thousand lines. The relative excellence of this work is
however exceedingly high. Regnier is almost the only French poet before
the so-called classical period who has continuously maintained his
reputation, and who has only been decried by a few eccentric or
incompetent critics. He was an ardent defender of the Ronsardising
tradition, yet Malherbe, whom he did not hesitate to attack, thought and
spoke highly of him. In the next age Boileau allotted to him a mixture of
praise and blame which is not too apposite, but in which the praise far
exceeds the blame, and elsewhere declared him to be the French writer,
before Molière, who best knew human nature. The approval of Boileau
secured that of the eighteenth century, while Regnier's defence of the
Pléiade propitiated the first Romantics. Thus buttressed on either side, he
has had nothing to fear from literary revolutions. Nor will any judgment
which looks rather at merit than authority arrive at an unfavourable
however, wished to follow his uncle's steps in the other direction, and early
began to write. It is said that he wrote lampoons on the inhabitants of his
native town, and, repeating them to the frequenters of a tennis-court which
his father had built, got himself thus into trouble. His father's threats and
punishments, however, had no more effect than is usual in such cases, and
Regnier soon, but at a date not exactly known, betook himself to his uncle
at Paris. By Desportes, who was in favour with many high personages, he
was recommended to the Cardinal de Joyeuse, and took part in that prelate's
embassy to Rome in 1593. Joyeuse, however, did nothing for him, and in
1601 he again went to Rome in the suite of Philippe de Bethune. He
returned before long, and, in 1604, a canonry, to the reversion of which he
had been presented long before, fell in. His first collection of satires
appeared in 1608. Five years afterwards, in 1613, on the 22nd of October,
he died at Rouen, having not quite completed his fortieth year. His way of
life had unfortunately been by no means regular, and his early death is said
to have been directly caused by his excesses.
In this short sketch almost everything that is known of Regnier, except a
few anecdotes, has been included, and the total is, it will be seen,
exceedingly meagre. Nor is his work abundant even for a man who died
comparatively young. Sixteen satires, three epistles, five elegies, and a few
miscellaneous pieces, make it up, and probably the total does not exceed
seven or eight thousand lines. The relative excellence of this work is
however exceedingly high. Regnier is almost the only French poet before
the so-called classical period who has continuously maintained his
reputation, and who has only been decried by a few eccentric or
incompetent critics. He was an ardent defender of the Ronsardising
tradition, yet Malherbe, whom he did not hesitate to attack, thought and
spoke highly of him. In the next age Boileau allotted to him a mixture of
praise and blame which is not too apposite, but in which the praise far
exceeds the blame, and elsewhere declared him to be the French writer,
before Molière, who best knew human nature. The approval of Boileau
secured that of the eighteenth century, while Regnier's defence of the
Pléiade propitiated the first Romantics. Thus buttressed on either side, he
has had nothing to fear from literary revolutions. Nor will any judgment
which looks rather at merit than authority arrive at an unfavourable
Page 295
conclusion respecting him. His satires are not indeed absolutely the first of
their kind in French. Vauquelin de la Fresnaye, Jean de la Taille, and above
all, D'Aubigné, had preceded him. But in breadth as well as, except in the
case of D'Aubigné, in force, and above all in even excellence and technical
merit, he far surpassed those who in a manner had shown him the way. His
satire is exclusively social, and thus it escapes one of the chief drawbacks
of political satire, that of dealing with matters of more or less ephemeral
existence and interest. He has indeed borrowed considerably from the
ancients, but he has almost always made his borrowings his own, and he has
in some cases improved on his originals. He has softened the exaggerated
air of moral indignation which his English contemporaries, Hall and
Marston, borrowed from Juvenal, and which sits so awkwardly on them and
on many other satirists. He has avoided such still more awkward followings
as that which made Pope upset all English literary history in order to echo
Horace's remarks about Rome and Greece. Sometimes he has fallen into the
besetting sin of his countrymen, the tendency to represent mere types or
even abstractions instead of lifelike individuals embodying the type, but he
has more often avoided it. His descriptive passages are of extraordinary
vigour and accuracy of touch, and his occasional strokes are worthy of
almost any satiric or didactic poet. He is perhaps weakest, like all poets
with the signal exception of Dryden, when he is panegyrical. Yet his first
satire—in the order of arrangement not of writing—addressed to the King,
Henri IV., has much merit. The second, on poets, has more, and abounds in
vigorous strokes, such as that of the courtier bard who
Méditant un sonnet, médite un évêché;
and as the couplet which concludes a lively sketch of his diplomatic
experiences—
Mais instruit par le temps à la fin j'ai connu
Que la fidélité n'est pas grand revenu.
This poem, which contains some humorous descriptions of the poverty of
poets, ends with an eloquent panegyric on Ronsard. The next, on 'La Vie de
la Cour,' attacks a very favourite subject of the age, and winds up with an
extremely well-told version of the fable of the beast of prey and the mule
whose name is written on its hoof. The fourth returns to the subject of the
their kind in French. Vauquelin de la Fresnaye, Jean de la Taille, and above
all, D'Aubigné, had preceded him. But in breadth as well as, except in the
case of D'Aubigné, in force, and above all in even excellence and technical
merit, he far surpassed those who in a manner had shown him the way. His
satire is exclusively social, and thus it escapes one of the chief drawbacks
of political satire, that of dealing with matters of more or less ephemeral
existence and interest. He has indeed borrowed considerably from the
ancients, but he has almost always made his borrowings his own, and he has
in some cases improved on his originals. He has softened the exaggerated
air of moral indignation which his English contemporaries, Hall and
Marston, borrowed from Juvenal, and which sits so awkwardly on them and
on many other satirists. He has avoided such still more awkward followings
as that which made Pope upset all English literary history in order to echo
Horace's remarks about Rome and Greece. Sometimes he has fallen into the
besetting sin of his countrymen, the tendency to represent mere types or
even abstractions instead of lifelike individuals embodying the type, but he
has more often avoided it. His descriptive passages are of extraordinary
vigour and accuracy of touch, and his occasional strokes are worthy of
almost any satiric or didactic poet. He is perhaps weakest, like all poets
with the signal exception of Dryden, when he is panegyrical. Yet his first
satire—in the order of arrangement not of writing—addressed to the King,
Henri IV., has much merit. The second, on poets, has more, and abounds in
vigorous strokes, such as that of the courtier bard who
Méditant un sonnet, médite un évêché;
and as the couplet which concludes a lively sketch of his diplomatic
experiences—
Mais instruit par le temps à la fin j'ai connu
Que la fidélité n'est pas grand revenu.
This poem, which contains some humorous descriptions of the poverty of
poets, ends with an eloquent panegyric on Ronsard. The next, on 'La Vie de
la Cour,' attacks a very favourite subject of the age, and winds up with an
extremely well-told version of the fable of the beast of prey and the mule
whose name is written on its hoof. The fourth returns to the subject of the
Page 296
poverty of poets. The fifth argues at some length, and in a spirit not very far
removed from that of Montaigne, the thesis that 'Le goût particulier décide
de tout.' It contains some of Regnier's finest passages. A subject somewhat
similar in kind, 'L'honneur ennemi de la vie,' gives further occasion, in the
sixth, for the display of the moralising spirit of the age, which, in Regnier,
takes the form of a kind of epicurean pococurantism mingled with
occasional bursts of noble sentiment. The seventh is one of the most
personal of all; it is entitled 'L'amour qu'on ne peut dompter,' and is a
comment on the text Video meliora proboque. The eighth is one of the
innumerable imitations of the famous ninth satire of the first book of
Horace, Ibam forte via sacra, and perhaps the happiest of all such, though it
is difficult not to regret that Regnier should have devoted his too rare
moments of work to mere imitation. The ninth, however, is open to no such
charge. It is entitled Le Critique outré, and is an extraordinarily vigorous
and happy remonstrance against the intolerant pedantry with which
Malherbe was criticising the Pléiade. This satire is addressed to Rapin, the
veteran contributor to the Ménippée. It is impossible to describe the weak
side of the reforms which Malherbe, and after him Boileau, introduced into
French poetry, better than in these lines, which deserve citation for their
literary importance:—
Cependant leur scavoir ne s'estend seulement
Qu'à regratter un mot douteux au jugement,
Prendre garde qu'un qui ne heurte une diphtongue;
Espier si des vers la rime est brève ou longue;
Ou bien si la voyelle, à l'autre s'unissant,
Ne rend point à l'oreille un vers trop languissant.
Ils rampent bassement, foibles d'inventions,
Et n'osent, peu hardis, tenter les fictions,
Froids à l'imaginer; ear s'ils font quelque chose
C'est proser de la rime, et rimer de la prose,
Que l'art lime et relime, et polit de façon,
Qu'elle rend à l'oreille un agréable son.
The tenth satire, with its title 'Le souper ridicule,' seems to return to Horace,
but in reality the scene described has little in common with the Coena of
Nasidienus. It affords Regnier an excellent opportunity for displaying his
removed from that of Montaigne, the thesis that 'Le goût particulier décide
de tout.' It contains some of Regnier's finest passages. A subject somewhat
similar in kind, 'L'honneur ennemi de la vie,' gives further occasion, in the
sixth, for the display of the moralising spirit of the age, which, in Regnier,
takes the form of a kind of epicurean pococurantism mingled with
occasional bursts of noble sentiment. The seventh is one of the most
personal of all; it is entitled 'L'amour qu'on ne peut dompter,' and is a
comment on the text Video meliora proboque. The eighth is one of the
innumerable imitations of the famous ninth satire of the first book of
Horace, Ibam forte via sacra, and perhaps the happiest of all such, though it
is difficult not to regret that Regnier should have devoted his too rare
moments of work to mere imitation. The ninth, however, is open to no such
charge. It is entitled Le Critique outré, and is an extraordinarily vigorous
and happy remonstrance against the intolerant pedantry with which
Malherbe was criticising the Pléiade. This satire is addressed to Rapin, the
veteran contributor to the Ménippée. It is impossible to describe the weak
side of the reforms which Malherbe, and after him Boileau, introduced into
French poetry, better than in these lines, which deserve citation for their
literary importance:—
Cependant leur scavoir ne s'estend seulement
Qu'à regratter un mot douteux au jugement,
Prendre garde qu'un qui ne heurte une diphtongue;
Espier si des vers la rime est brève ou longue;
Ou bien si la voyelle, à l'autre s'unissant,
Ne rend point à l'oreille un vers trop languissant.
Ils rampent bassement, foibles d'inventions,
Et n'osent, peu hardis, tenter les fictions,
Froids à l'imaginer; ear s'ils font quelque chose
C'est proser de la rime, et rimer de la prose,
Que l'art lime et relime, et polit de façon,
Qu'elle rend à l'oreille un agréable son.
The tenth satire, with its title 'Le souper ridicule,' seems to return to Horace,
but in reality the scene described has little in common with the Coena of
Nasidienus. It affords Regnier an excellent opportunity for displaying his
Page 297
talent for Dutch painting, but is in this respect inferior to the sequel 'Le
mauvais gîte.' The subject of this is sufficiently unsavoury, and the satire is
almost the only one which in the least deserves Boileau's strictures on the
author's 'rimes cyniques,' but the vigour and skill of the treatment are most
remarkable. The twelfth is short, and once more apologetically personal.
But the thirteenth is the longest, one of the most famous, and
unquestionably on the whole the best work of the author. It is entitled
'Macette,' and describes an old woman who hides vice under a hypocritical
mask and corrupts youth with her evil philosophy of the world and its ways.
Indebted in some measure to the Roman de la Rose for the idea of his
central character, Regnier is entirely original in his method of treatment.
Nowhere are his verses more vigorous—
Son œil tout pénitent ne pleure qu'eau béniste.
L'honneur est un vieux saint que l'on ne chomme plus.
La sage se sait vendre où la sotte se donne.
Nowhere is Regnier so uniformly free from technical defects and from
colloquialisms in which he sometimes indulges. The fourteenth returns to
general and somewhat vague satire, dealing with the vanity of human
reason and conduct, while the fifteenth is once more personal, 'Le Poète
malgré soi.' Lastly, the sixteenth sums up the author's theoretical philosophy
in the opening line, 'N'avoir crainte de rien et ne rien espérer.'
The satires are in bulk and in importance so much the larger part of the
work of Regnier, and represent such an important innovation in French
literature, that it has seemed well to describe them with some minuteness.
The miscellaneous poems may be reviewed more rapidly, though the best of
them add very considerably to the poet's reputation, because they show him
in an entirely different light. Not a few of the elegies are imitated from
Ovid, and some of them might perhaps have been left unwritten with
advantage. Indeed, Regnier is here much more open to Boileau's censure
than in his more famous verse. But some lyrical pieces exhibit his command
of other measures besides the Alexandrine, and afford occasion for the
expression of a melancholy and genuine sensibility which is not common in
French poetry. The poem called 'Plainte' is very beautiful, and is written in a
lyric stanza of much more elaboration than any which was to be used in
France for two centuries. One of its peculiarities is a hemistich replacing the
mauvais gîte.' The subject of this is sufficiently unsavoury, and the satire is
almost the only one which in the least deserves Boileau's strictures on the
author's 'rimes cyniques,' but the vigour and skill of the treatment are most
remarkable. The twelfth is short, and once more apologetically personal.
But the thirteenth is the longest, one of the most famous, and
unquestionably on the whole the best work of the author. It is entitled
'Macette,' and describes an old woman who hides vice under a hypocritical
mask and corrupts youth with her evil philosophy of the world and its ways.
Indebted in some measure to the Roman de la Rose for the idea of his
central character, Regnier is entirely original in his method of treatment.
Nowhere are his verses more vigorous—
Son œil tout pénitent ne pleure qu'eau béniste.
L'honneur est un vieux saint que l'on ne chomme plus.
La sage se sait vendre où la sotte se donne.
Nowhere is Regnier so uniformly free from technical defects and from
colloquialisms in which he sometimes indulges. The fourteenth returns to
general and somewhat vague satire, dealing with the vanity of human
reason and conduct, while the fifteenth is once more personal, 'Le Poète
malgré soi.' Lastly, the sixteenth sums up the author's theoretical philosophy
in the opening line, 'N'avoir crainte de rien et ne rien espérer.'
The satires are in bulk and in importance so much the larger part of the
work of Regnier, and represent such an important innovation in French
literature, that it has seemed well to describe them with some minuteness.
The miscellaneous poems may be reviewed more rapidly, though the best of
them add very considerably to the poet's reputation, because they show him
in an entirely different light. Not a few of the elegies are imitated from
Ovid, and some of them might perhaps have been left unwritten with
advantage. Indeed, Regnier is here much more open to Boileau's censure
than in his more famous verse. But some lyrical pieces exhibit his command
of other measures besides the Alexandrine, and afford occasion for the
expression of a melancholy and genuine sensibility which is not common in
French poetry. The poem called 'Plainte' is very beautiful, and is written in a
lyric stanza of much more elaboration than any which was to be used in
France for two centuries. One of its peculiarities is a hemistich replacing the
Page 298
expected fourth line of the stanza, which is of eight verses, with singularly
musical effect. A so-called 'Ode' is almost better, and ends thus:—
Un regret pensif et confus
D'avoir esté, et n'estre plus,
Rend mon âme aux douleurs ouverte;
A mes despens, las! je vois bien
Qu'un bonheur comme estoit le mien
Ne se cognoist que par la perte.
Regnier was in many ways a fitting representative for the close of the great
poetical school of the sixteenth century. In manner he represented the fusion
of the purely Gallic school of Marot and Rabelais, with the classical
tradition of the Pléiade in its best form. His Alexandrines, if not quite so
vigorous as D'Aubigné's, have all the polish that could be expected before
the administration of Malherbe's rules. His lyric measures have the boldness
and harmony which those rules banished from French poetry for full seven
generations. In matter he displays a singular mixture of acute observation
and philosophic criticism with ardent sensibility both to pleasure and pain.
This, as has been repeatedly pointed out, is the dominant temper of the
French Renaissance, and though in Regnier it shows something of the
melancholy of the decadence as compared with the springing hope of
Rabelais and the calm maturity of Montaigne, it is scarcely less
characteristic.
FOOTNOTES:
[222] Ed. Labitte. Paris, 1869.
[223] Ed. Courbet. Paris, 1875. In this edition some of the dates and statements
in the text, which have been generally accepted, are contested.
musical effect. A so-called 'Ode' is almost better, and ends thus:—
Un regret pensif et confus
D'avoir esté, et n'estre plus,
Rend mon âme aux douleurs ouverte;
A mes despens, las! je vois bien
Qu'un bonheur comme estoit le mien
Ne se cognoist que par la perte.
Regnier was in many ways a fitting representative for the close of the great
poetical school of the sixteenth century. In manner he represented the fusion
of the purely Gallic school of Marot and Rabelais, with the classical
tradition of the Pléiade in its best form. His Alexandrines, if not quite so
vigorous as D'Aubigné's, have all the polish that could be expected before
the administration of Malherbe's rules. His lyric measures have the boldness
and harmony which those rules banished from French poetry for full seven
generations. In matter he displays a singular mixture of acute observation
and philosophic criticism with ardent sensibility both to pleasure and pain.
This, as has been repeatedly pointed out, is the dominant temper of the
French Renaissance, and though in Regnier it shows something of the
melancholy of the decadence as compared with the springing hope of
Rabelais and the calm maturity of Montaigne, it is scarcely less
characteristic.
FOOTNOTES:
[222] Ed. Labitte. Paris, 1869.
[223] Ed. Courbet. Paris, 1875. In this edition some of the dates and statements
in the text, which have been generally accepted, are contested.
Page 299
INTERCHAPTER II.
SUMMARY OF RENAISSANCE LITERATURE.
The literary movements of the sixteenth century in France and their
accomplishments—in other words, the course and result of the French
Renaissance—can be traced with greater ease and with more precision than
those of any other age of the literature. The movement is double, but, unlike
most movements, literary and other, it is not sufficiently described as flux
and reflux or action and reaction. The later or Pléiade half of the century
was in no sense a reaction against the first or Marot-Rabelais half. If there is
an appearance of opposition between the two it is only because, both in
Marot and in Rabelais, there was actually a kind of reaction from the
movement which faintly and imperfectly foreshadowed that of the Pléiade,
the rhétoriqueur pedantry of the writers from Chartier to Crétin. In this first
half of the century, while something of a protest was made by Rabelais
explicitly, and implicitly by Marot, against the indiscriminate Latinising of
the French tongue, very much more was done by their contemporaries, and
in a manner by Rabelais himself, in the way of importing novelties of
subject, style, and language, both from ancient and modern sources. Long
before Du Bellay wrote, Calvin had modelled the first serious and scholarly
work of French prose very closely on a Latin pattern. The translators, with
Étienne Dolet and Amyot at their head, had begun to transfer to the
vernacular, in versions or in original work, the principles of style which
they had admired and imitated in the classics. On the other hand, Marot,
representing the extreme vernacular school, succeeded, tolerably early in
the period, in refining and chastening the language of the fifteenth century
to such an extent that his style, transmitted through La Fontaine, and then
through the lighter work of the eighteenth century, has retained a certain
hold on literature for its particular purpose almost to the present day. The
most remarkable writer, from the point of view of style, in this part of the
century is perhaps Bonaventure des Périers, who displays both the
vernacular purity free from classical mixture, and at the same time the
Renaissance admiration and imitation of the classics in a very high degree.
SUMMARY OF RENAISSANCE LITERATURE.
The literary movements of the sixteenth century in France and their
accomplishments—in other words, the course and result of the French
Renaissance—can be traced with greater ease and with more precision than
those of any other age of the literature. The movement is double, but, unlike
most movements, literary and other, it is not sufficiently described as flux
and reflux or action and reaction. The later or Pléiade half of the century
was in no sense a reaction against the first or Marot-Rabelais half. If there is
an appearance of opposition between the two it is only because, both in
Marot and in Rabelais, there was actually a kind of reaction from the
movement which faintly and imperfectly foreshadowed that of the Pléiade,
the rhétoriqueur pedantry of the writers from Chartier to Crétin. In this first
half of the century, while something of a protest was made by Rabelais
explicitly, and implicitly by Marot, against the indiscriminate Latinising of
the French tongue, very much more was done by their contemporaries, and
in a manner by Rabelais himself, in the way of importing novelties of
subject, style, and language, both from ancient and modern sources. Long
before Du Bellay wrote, Calvin had modelled the first serious and scholarly
work of French prose very closely on a Latin pattern. The translators, with
Étienne Dolet and Amyot at their head, had begun to transfer to the
vernacular, in versions or in original work, the principles of style which
they had admired and imitated in the classics. On the other hand, Marot,
representing the extreme vernacular school, succeeded, tolerably early in
the period, in refining and chastening the language of the fifteenth century
to such an extent that his style, transmitted through La Fontaine, and then
through the lighter work of the eighteenth century, has retained a certain
hold on literature for its particular purpose almost to the present day. The
most remarkable writer, from the point of view of style, in this part of the
century is perhaps Bonaventure des Périers, who displays both the
vernacular purity free from classical mixture, and at the same time the
Renaissance admiration and imitation of the classics in a very high degree.
Page 300
Yet the same lesson is taught by the prose of Des Périers as by the verse of
Marot. The language had not as yet arrived at its full growth, it had not
taken in its full supply of nourishment. It was therefore not equal to the
complete duties of a literary tongue. It wanted enriching, strengthening,
educating.
This task it was which was performed, and performed on the whole with
remarkable skill and success, by the Pléiade movement. It is not easy to fix
on any period in the history of any other language in which, at an interval of
fifty years, the advance in the capacities, as distinguished from the mere
accomplishments of the tongue, is so noticeable as it is in French between
1550 and 1600. It is not merely that between these dates writers of talent
and even genius may be mentioned by the dozen, that the language can
boast of having added to its stores the odes of Ronsard, the sonnets of Du
Bellay, the myriad graceful songs of the lesser poets of the Pléiade, the
stately descriptions of Du Bartas, the fiery invective of D'Aubigné, the
polished satire of Regnier, the essays of Montaigne, the immortal
pasquinades of the Ménippée—it is that the whole constitution and
organisation of the language has been strengthened and improved. That the
secret of the Alexandrine has at last been mastered means that the whole
future course of French poetry is in a manner mapped out. That lyric
measures have been devised, intricate, not merely in arrangement like those
of the mediaeval forms, but in harmony, means that at any future time
French poets who choose to recur to this storehouse may find the withal to
equip themselves. That the vocabulary has been enormously if somewhat
indiscriminately increased, means that writers in the future, at whatever loss
they may be for thought, need certainly be at no loss for words to express it.
But the gain is greater even than this. Not merely have the glossary, the
grammar, the prosody of the language been enriched, but entirely new
moulds in which literary work can be cast have been added to the literature.
The form of drama in which France was to achieve, with but little formal
alteration, some of her greatest literary triumphs, has been discovered and
acclimatised; the essay has become a recognised thing; attempts at history
proper as distinct from mere annals and chronicles have been made.
Literature, in short, is organised, and literary labour works in matter roughly
at least prepared and shaped. One of the greatest drawbacks of mediaeval
literature, the confusion of styles, the handling of science in verse, of
Marot. The language had not as yet arrived at its full growth, it had not
taken in its full supply of nourishment. It was therefore not equal to the
complete duties of a literary tongue. It wanted enriching, strengthening,
educating.
This task it was which was performed, and performed on the whole with
remarkable skill and success, by the Pléiade movement. It is not easy to fix
on any period in the history of any other language in which, at an interval of
fifty years, the advance in the capacities, as distinguished from the mere
accomplishments of the tongue, is so noticeable as it is in French between
1550 and 1600. It is not merely that between these dates writers of talent
and even genius may be mentioned by the dozen, that the language can
boast of having added to its stores the odes of Ronsard, the sonnets of Du
Bellay, the myriad graceful songs of the lesser poets of the Pléiade, the
stately descriptions of Du Bartas, the fiery invective of D'Aubigné, the
polished satire of Regnier, the essays of Montaigne, the immortal
pasquinades of the Ménippée—it is that the whole constitution and
organisation of the language has been strengthened and improved. That the
secret of the Alexandrine has at last been mastered means that the whole
future course of French poetry is in a manner mapped out. That lyric
measures have been devised, intricate, not merely in arrangement like those
of the mediaeval forms, but in harmony, means that at any future time
French poets who choose to recur to this storehouse may find the withal to
equip themselves. That the vocabulary has been enormously if somewhat
indiscriminately increased, means that writers in the future, at whatever loss
they may be for thought, need certainly be at no loss for words to express it.
But the gain is greater even than this. Not merely have the glossary, the
grammar, the prosody of the language been enriched, but entirely new
moulds in which literary work can be cast have been added to the literature.
The form of drama in which France was to achieve, with but little formal
alteration, some of her greatest literary triumphs, has been discovered and
acclimatised; the essay has become a recognised thing; attempts at history
proper as distinct from mere annals and chronicles have been made.
Literature, in short, is organised, and literary labour works in matter roughly
at least prepared and shaped. One of the greatest drawbacks of mediaeval
literature, the confusion of styles, the handling of science in verse, of
Page 301
theology in terms taken from amatory romances, of politics in 'dreams,' of
social satire in clumsy allegories, is cleared away. The form most suitable
for every kind of literary work has been more or less made clear to the
literary workman, and a plentiful supply of material in the shape of
vocabulary is at his disposal.
That this great accomplishment is on the whole the doing of the Pléiade in
its larger sense, as designating and including the men of letters of 1550-
1600, no impartial student of the period can doubt. But at the same time
there is no doubt either that their work was both incomplete and in some
respects open to grave objection. They had, like all reformers, literary as
well as political, neglected to preserve the historical continuity, and
deliberately turned their backs on the traditions of the language and the
literature. Their importations and imitations had been sometimes
unnecessary, sometimes awkward, sometimes absurd. The mass of their
contributions required examination, arrangement, and no doubt in some
cases rejection. Moreover, they had on the whole concentrated their
attention too much upon poetry; prose, the less exquisite but the more
useful instrument, had been comparatively neglected. Almost all styles had
been tried in it, but no general style nor the conditions of any had been
elaborated. In drama much remained to be done. The model was there in the
rough, but the workmen had been unskilful, and fifty years of practice on
the plan of Jodelle had not yet resulted in the composition of one really
dramatic play. In short, though the Pléiade movement had begun by being
nothing if not critical, it had not kept up the habit of self-criticism. The
application of this criticism was what was left for the seventeenth century to
supply, and at the same time the elaboration of a complete and workman-
like prose style. We shall see how early and how eagerly this task was
accepted, and how thoroughly it was carried out; so thoroughly, that the
seventeenth century is the age of perfect French prose. But what was gained
in prose was lost in poetry, and, putting the dramatists aside, the drop in this
respect from the sixteenth to the seventeenth century is immense. The
sixteenth is, putting our own days out of question, the palmy time of poetry
in France. The urbanity of Marot, the stately grace of Ronsard and his
followers, the majesty of Du Bartas, the fire of D'Aubigné, the nervous and
yet effortless strength of Regnier, have never been surpassed, and until the
last half century they have rarely been equalled. If to this be added the more
social satire in clumsy allegories, is cleared away. The form most suitable
for every kind of literary work has been more or less made clear to the
literary workman, and a plentiful supply of material in the shape of
vocabulary is at his disposal.
That this great accomplishment is on the whole the doing of the Pléiade in
its larger sense, as designating and including the men of letters of 1550-
1600, no impartial student of the period can doubt. But at the same time
there is no doubt either that their work was both incomplete and in some
respects open to grave objection. They had, like all reformers, literary as
well as political, neglected to preserve the historical continuity, and
deliberately turned their backs on the traditions of the language and the
literature. Their importations and imitations had been sometimes
unnecessary, sometimes awkward, sometimes absurd. The mass of their
contributions required examination, arrangement, and no doubt in some
cases rejection. Moreover, they had on the whole concentrated their
attention too much upon poetry; prose, the less exquisite but the more
useful instrument, had been comparatively neglected. Almost all styles had
been tried in it, but no general style nor the conditions of any had been
elaborated. In drama much remained to be done. The model was there in the
rough, but the workmen had been unskilful, and fifty years of practice on
the plan of Jodelle had not yet resulted in the composition of one really
dramatic play. In short, though the Pléiade movement had begun by being
nothing if not critical, it had not kept up the habit of self-criticism. The
application of this criticism was what was left for the seventeenth century to
supply, and at the same time the elaboration of a complete and workman-
like prose style. We shall see how early and how eagerly this task was
accepted, and how thoroughly it was carried out; so thoroughly, that the
seventeenth century is the age of perfect French prose. But what was gained
in prose was lost in poetry, and, putting the dramatists aside, the drop in this
respect from the sixteenth to the seventeenth century is immense. The
sixteenth is, putting our own days out of question, the palmy time of poetry
in France. The urbanity of Marot, the stately grace of Ronsard and his
followers, the majesty of Du Bartas, the fire of D'Aubigné, the nervous and
yet effortless strength of Regnier, have never been surpassed, and until the
last half century they have rarely been equalled. If to this be added the more
Page 302
irregular and unequal, but hardly inferior merits of the best sixteenth-
century prose, the inexhaustible humour of Rabelais, the simplicity and
varied colour of the great memoir-writers, the subtle eloquence of
Montaigne, it may perhaps seem that the period can contest the primacy
with any other. The dispute between it and its successor is, however, only
an instance of one which recurs again and again in literature, and which
neither need nor should be handled here at length.
century prose, the inexhaustible humour of Rabelais, the simplicity and
varied colour of the great memoir-writers, the subtle eloquence of
Montaigne, it may perhaps seem that the period can contest the primacy
with any other. The dispute between it and its successor is, however, only
an instance of one which recurs again and again in literature, and which
neither need nor should be handled here at length.
Page 303
BOOK III.
THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY.
THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY.
Page 304
CHAPTER I.
POETS.
The history of the poetry of the seventeenth century in
France naturally and necessarily opens with Malherbe, Malherbe.
though he was forty-five years old at its beginning, and
considerably the senior of Regnier, who has been included among the poets
of the Renaissance. François de Malherbe[224] was born at Caen in 1555,
being the eldest son of his father, another François de Malherbe, and both
on the father's and mother's side of noble family. He was educated at his
native town, in Germany and in Paris, and when he was twenty-one he
entered the army. He married in 1581, and had three children, two of whom
died young—a circumstance not immaterial in connection with his most
famous poem, which is a 'Consolation' to a certain M. du Périer, whose
daughter Marguerite had died in her youth. He seems to have written verses
tolerably early, but, exercising on himself the same rigid principles of
criticism which he applied to others, he preserved none or hardly any of
them. It was not till he was past forty that his best-known poems were
written, and the whole amount of his surviving work is not large. During the
first two-thirds of his life he was not rich, for his patrimony was scanty, and
the death of the Grand Prior, Henri d'Angoulême, to whom he had attached
himself, deprived him of the chances of preferment. But in 1605 he was
presented to Henri IV.; he soon afterwards received various places, and for
more than twenty years was a court favourite, and in a way the autocrat of
poetry. He died in 1628.
It has been said that Malherbe's poetical work is by no means voluminous: a
small volume of two hundred pages, not very closely or minutely printed,
contains it all; and ingenious persons have calculated that as a rule he did
not write more than four or five verses a month. Nor even of this carefully
produced, and still more carefully weeded, result is there much that can be
read with pleasure by a modern student of poetry. The verse by which
Malherbe is best known,
POETS.
The history of the poetry of the seventeenth century in
France naturally and necessarily opens with Malherbe, Malherbe.
though he was forty-five years old at its beginning, and
considerably the senior of Regnier, who has been included among the poets
of the Renaissance. François de Malherbe[224] was born at Caen in 1555,
being the eldest son of his father, another François de Malherbe, and both
on the father's and mother's side of noble family. He was educated at his
native town, in Germany and in Paris, and when he was twenty-one he
entered the army. He married in 1581, and had three children, two of whom
died young—a circumstance not immaterial in connection with his most
famous poem, which is a 'Consolation' to a certain M. du Périer, whose
daughter Marguerite had died in her youth. He seems to have written verses
tolerably early, but, exercising on himself the same rigid principles of
criticism which he applied to others, he preserved none or hardly any of
them. It was not till he was past forty that his best-known poems were
written, and the whole amount of his surviving work is not large. During the
first two-thirds of his life he was not rich, for his patrimony was scanty, and
the death of the Grand Prior, Henri d'Angoulême, to whom he had attached
himself, deprived him of the chances of preferment. But in 1605 he was
presented to Henri IV.; he soon afterwards received various places, and for
more than twenty years was a court favourite, and in a way the autocrat of
poetry. He died in 1628.
It has been said that Malherbe's poetical work is by no means voluminous: a
small volume of two hundred pages, not very closely or minutely printed,
contains it all; and ingenious persons have calculated that as a rule he did
not write more than four or five verses a month. Nor even of this carefully
produced, and still more carefully weeded, result is there much that can be
read with pleasure by a modern student of poetry. The verse by which
Malherbe is best known,
Page 305
Et, rose, elle a vécu ce que vivent les roses,
is worth all the rest of his work, and it can hardly be said to be more than a
very graceful and touching conceit. But Malherbe's position in the history
of French poetry is a very important one. He deliberately assumed the
functions of a reformer of literature; and whatever may be thought of the
result of his reforms, their durability and the almost entire acquiescence
with which they were received prove that there must have been something
in them remarkably germane to the spirit and taste and genius of the nation.
His first attempt was the overthrow of the Pléiade. He ridiculed their
phraseology, frowned on their metres, and, being himself destitute of the
romantic inspiration which had animated them, set himself to reduce poetry
to carefully-worded metrical prose. The story is always told of him that he
went minutely through a copy of Ronsard, striking out whatever he
disapproved of; and when some one pointed out the mass of lines that were
left, that he drew his pen (presumably across the title-page, for it is not
obvious how else he could have done it) through the rest at one stroke. The
insolent folly of this is glaring enough, for Malherbe is not worthy as a poet
to unloose the shoe-latchet of Ronsard. But the critic had rightly
appreciated his time. The tendency of the French seventeenth century in
poetry proper was towards the restriction of vocabulary and rhythm, the
avoidance of original and daring metaphor and suggestion, the perfecting of
a few metres (with the Alexandrine at their head) into a delicate but
monotonous harmony, and the rejection of individual licence in favour of
rigid rule. The influence of Boileau came rapidly to second that of
Malherbe, and the result is that not a single poet—the dramatists are here
excluded—of the seventeenth century in France deserves more than fair
second-class rank. La Fontaine, indeed, was a writer of the greatest genius,
but, though the form which his work takes is metrical, the highest merits of
poetry proper are absent. La Fontaine, too, was himself, though an admirer
of Malherbe, a rebel to the Malherbe tradition, and delighted both in
reading and imitating the work of the Renaissance and the middle ages. But
he is always clear, precise, and matter-of-fact in the midst of fancy, never
attaining to the peculiar vague suggestiveness which constitutes the charm
of poetry proper.
It was, however, impossible that so large a change should accomplish itself
at once, and signs of mixed influences appear accordingly in all the poetical
is worth all the rest of his work, and it can hardly be said to be more than a
very graceful and touching conceit. But Malherbe's position in the history
of French poetry is a very important one. He deliberately assumed the
functions of a reformer of literature; and whatever may be thought of the
result of his reforms, their durability and the almost entire acquiescence
with which they were received prove that there must have been something
in them remarkably germane to the spirit and taste and genius of the nation.
His first attempt was the overthrow of the Pléiade. He ridiculed their
phraseology, frowned on their metres, and, being himself destitute of the
romantic inspiration which had animated them, set himself to reduce poetry
to carefully-worded metrical prose. The story is always told of him that he
went minutely through a copy of Ronsard, striking out whatever he
disapproved of; and when some one pointed out the mass of lines that were
left, that he drew his pen (presumably across the title-page, for it is not
obvious how else he could have done it) through the rest at one stroke. The
insolent folly of this is glaring enough, for Malherbe is not worthy as a poet
to unloose the shoe-latchet of Ronsard. But the critic had rightly
appreciated his time. The tendency of the French seventeenth century in
poetry proper was towards the restriction of vocabulary and rhythm, the
avoidance of original and daring metaphor and suggestion, the perfecting of
a few metres (with the Alexandrine at their head) into a delicate but
monotonous harmony, and the rejection of individual licence in favour of
rigid rule. The influence of Boileau came rapidly to second that of
Malherbe, and the result is that not a single poet—the dramatists are here
excluded—of the seventeenth century in France deserves more than fair
second-class rank. La Fontaine, indeed, was a writer of the greatest genius,
but, though the form which his work takes is metrical, the highest merits of
poetry proper are absent. La Fontaine, too, was himself, though an admirer
of Malherbe, a rebel to the Malherbe tradition, and delighted both in
reading and imitating the work of the Renaissance and the middle ages. But
he is always clear, precise, and matter-of-fact in the midst of fancy, never
attaining to the peculiar vague suggestiveness which constitutes the charm
of poetry proper.
It was, however, impossible that so large a change should accomplish itself
at once, and signs of mixed influences appear accordingly in all the poetical
Page 306
work of the first half of the century. Cardinal du Perron,
Malherbe's introducer at court, was himself a poet of The School of
merit, but rather in the Pléiade style. His Temple de Malherbe.
l'Inconstance, though rougher in form, is more poetical
in substance than anything, save a very few pieces, of Vers de Société.
Malherbe's. Chassignet displayed some of the same
characteristics with a graver and more elegiac spirit. Voiture.
Gombaud is chiefly remarkable as a sonneteer. The two
most famous of the actual pupils of Malherbe were Maynard and Racan.
Maynard was a diplomatist and lawyer of rank, who was born at Toulouse
in 1582, and died in 1646. His work is miscellaneous, and not very
extensive, but it shows that he had learned the secret of polished
versification from Malherbe, and that he was able to apply it with a good
deal of vigour and of variety. Honorat de Bueil, Marquis de Racan[225], was
the author of a pastoral drama, Les Bergeries, founded on, or imitated from,
the Astrée of D'Urfé, of an elaborate version of the Psalms, and of a
considerable number of the miscellaneous poems, stances, odes, épitres,
etc., which were fashionable. Racan, though his amiable private character
and the compliance of his principal work with a fashionable folly of the
time have caused him to be somewhat over-estimated traditionally, was a
thoroughly pleasing poet, with a great command of fluent and melodious
verse, a genuine love of nature, and occasionally a power of producing
poetry of a true kind which was shared by few of his contemporaries. The
remarkable author of Tyr et Sidon, Jean de Schélandre, produced, besides
his play, a considerable number of miscellaneous poems; but he was a
thorough reactionary, avowed his contempt of Malherbe, and studied, not
without success, Ronsard and his own coreligionist Du Bartas as models.
One of the most original, though at the same time one of the most unequal
poets of the early seventeenth century, was Théophile de Viaud, often called
Théophile[226] simply. He, too, was a dramatist, but his dramas do not do
him much credit, their style being exaggerated and 'precious.' On the other
hand, his miscellaneous poems, though very unequal, include much work of
remarkable beauty. The pieces entitled 'La Solitude,' 'Sur une Tempête,' and
the stanzas beginning 'Quand tu me vois baiser tes bras,' have all the fervour
and picturesqueness of the Pléiade without its occasional blemishes of
pedantic expression. Théophile was a loose liver and an unfortunate man.
He was accused, justly or unjustly, of writing indecent verses, was
Malherbe's introducer at court, was himself a poet of The School of
merit, but rather in the Pléiade style. His Temple de Malherbe.
l'Inconstance, though rougher in form, is more poetical
in substance than anything, save a very few pieces, of Vers de Société.
Malherbe's. Chassignet displayed some of the same
characteristics with a graver and more elegiac spirit. Voiture.
Gombaud is chiefly remarkable as a sonneteer. The two
most famous of the actual pupils of Malherbe were Maynard and Racan.
Maynard was a diplomatist and lawyer of rank, who was born at Toulouse
in 1582, and died in 1646. His work is miscellaneous, and not very
extensive, but it shows that he had learned the secret of polished
versification from Malherbe, and that he was able to apply it with a good
deal of vigour and of variety. Honorat de Bueil, Marquis de Racan[225], was
the author of a pastoral drama, Les Bergeries, founded on, or imitated from,
the Astrée of D'Urfé, of an elaborate version of the Psalms, and of a
considerable number of the miscellaneous poems, stances, odes, épitres,
etc., which were fashionable. Racan, though his amiable private character
and the compliance of his principal work with a fashionable folly of the
time have caused him to be somewhat over-estimated traditionally, was a
thoroughly pleasing poet, with a great command of fluent and melodious
verse, a genuine love of nature, and occasionally a power of producing
poetry of a true kind which was shared by few of his contemporaries. The
remarkable author of Tyr et Sidon, Jean de Schélandre, produced, besides
his play, a considerable number of miscellaneous poems; but he was a
thorough reactionary, avowed his contempt of Malherbe, and studied, not
without success, Ronsard and his own coreligionist Du Bartas as models.
One of the most original, though at the same time one of the most unequal
poets of the early seventeenth century, was Théophile de Viaud, often called
Théophile[226] simply. He, too, was a dramatist, but his dramas do not do
him much credit, their style being exaggerated and 'precious.' On the other
hand, his miscellaneous poems, though very unequal, include much work of
remarkable beauty. The pieces entitled 'La Solitude,' 'Sur une Tempête,' and
the stanzas beginning 'Quand tu me vois baiser tes bras,' have all the fervour
and picturesqueness of the Pléiade without its occasional blemishes of
pedantic expression. Théophile was a loose liver and an unfortunate man.
He was accused, justly or unjustly, of writing indecent verses, was
Page 307
imprisoned, and died young. All the poets hitherto mentioned were writers
of miscellaneous verse, who, except in so far as they held to the elder
tradition of Ronsard or the new gospel of Malherbe, can hardly be said to
have belonged to any school. Towards the middle of the century, however,
two well-defined fashions of poetry, with some minor ones, distinguished
themselves. There was, in the first place, the school of the coterie poets,
who devoted themselves to producing vers de société, either for the ladies,
or for the great men of the period. The chief of this school was beyond all
question Voiture[227]. This admirable writer of prose and verse published
absolutely nothing during his lifetime, though his work was in private the
delight of the salons. That it should be, under the circumstances, somewhat
frivolous is almost unavoidable. But, especially after the cessation of the
great flow of inspiration which had characterised the sixteenth century, it
was of no small importance that the art of perfect expression should be
cultivated in French. Voiture was one of those who contributed most to the
cultivation of this art. His letters are as correct as those of Balzac, and much
less stilted; and of his poetry it is sufficient to say that nothing more
charming of the kind has ever been written than the sonnet to Uranie, which
stirred up a literary war, or the rondeau 'Ma foi c'est fait de moi.' This last
put once more in fashion a beautiful and thoroughly French form, which it
had been one of the worst deeds of the Pléiade to make unfashionable. The
chief rival of Voiture was Benserade, a much younger man, whose sonnet
on Job was held to excel, though it certainly does not, that to Uranie.
Benserade was of higher birth and larger fortune than Voiture, and long
outlived him. He was a great writer of ballets or masques, and not
unfrequently, like Voiture, showed that a true poet underlay the fantastic
disguises he put on. Around these two are grouped numerous minor poets of
different merit. Boisrobert, the favourite of Richelieu and the companion of
Rotrou and Corneille in that minister's band of 'five poets;' Maleville, who
in one of the sonnet-tournaments of the time, that of the Belle Matineuse,
was supposed to have excelled even Voiture; Colletet, whose poems make
him less important in literature than his Lives of the French poets, which
unfortunately perished during the Commune before they had been fully
printed; Gomberville, more famous as a novelist; Sarrasin, an admirable
prose writer, and a clever composer of ballades and other light verse;
Godeau, a bishop and a very clever versifier; Blot, who was rather a
political than a social rhymer; Marigny, who was also famous for his
of miscellaneous verse, who, except in so far as they held to the elder
tradition of Ronsard or the new gospel of Malherbe, can hardly be said to
have belonged to any school. Towards the middle of the century, however,
two well-defined fashions of poetry, with some minor ones, distinguished
themselves. There was, in the first place, the school of the coterie poets,
who devoted themselves to producing vers de société, either for the ladies,
or for the great men of the period. The chief of this school was beyond all
question Voiture[227]. This admirable writer of prose and verse published
absolutely nothing during his lifetime, though his work was in private the
delight of the salons. That it should be, under the circumstances, somewhat
frivolous is almost unavoidable. But, especially after the cessation of the
great flow of inspiration which had characterised the sixteenth century, it
was of no small importance that the art of perfect expression should be
cultivated in French. Voiture was one of those who contributed most to the
cultivation of this art. His letters are as correct as those of Balzac, and much
less stilted; and of his poetry it is sufficient to say that nothing more
charming of the kind has ever been written than the sonnet to Uranie, which
stirred up a literary war, or the rondeau 'Ma foi c'est fait de moi.' This last
put once more in fashion a beautiful and thoroughly French form, which it
had been one of the worst deeds of the Pléiade to make unfashionable. The
chief rival of Voiture was Benserade, a much younger man, whose sonnet
on Job was held to excel, though it certainly does not, that to Uranie.
Benserade was of higher birth and larger fortune than Voiture, and long
outlived him. He was a great writer of ballets or masques, and not
unfrequently, like Voiture, showed that a true poet underlay the fantastic
disguises he put on. Around these two are grouped numerous minor poets of
different merit. Boisrobert, the favourite of Richelieu and the companion of
Rotrou and Corneille in that minister's band of 'five poets;' Maleville, who
in one of the sonnet-tournaments of the time, that of the Belle Matineuse,
was supposed to have excelled even Voiture; Colletet, whose poems make
him less important in literature than his Lives of the French poets, which
unfortunately perished during the Commune before they had been fully
printed; Gomberville, more famous as a novelist; Sarrasin, an admirable
prose writer, and a clever composer of ballades and other light verse;
Godeau, a bishop and a very clever versifier; Blot, who was rather a
political than a social rhymer; Marigny, who was also famous for his
Page 308
Mazarinades, but whose satirical power was by no means the only side of
his poetical talent; Charleval, whose personal popularity was greater than
his literary ability; Maucroix, the friend of La Fontaine; Segrais, an eclogue
writer of no small merit; Chapelle, an idle epicurean, who derives most of
his fame from the fact of his having been intimate with all the foremost
literary men of the time, and from his having composed, in company with
Bachaumont, a Voyage in mixed prose and verse, the form of which was
long very popular in France and was imitated with especial success by
Anthony Hamilton and Voltaire; Pavillon, who deserves a very similar
general description, but who gave no such single example of his abilities:
all belong to this class.
Side by side with the frivolous school, but in curious
contrast with it, there existed a school of ponderous epic Epic School.
writers, the extirpation of which is the best claim of Chapelain.
Boileau to the gratitude of posterity. The typical poets of this class are
Georges de Scudéry, the author of Alaric, and Chapelain, the author of the
Pucelle. Scudéry was a soldier and a man of considerable talent, who
lacked nothing but patience and the power of self-criticism to produce
really good work. Like his more famous sister, he had invention and literary
facility. His plays are not without merit in parts, and his epic of Alaric,
amidst astonishing platitudes and extravagances, has occasional good lines.
But Chapelain is by far the most remarkable figure of the school. He was
bred up to be a poet from his earliest age, and by a stroke of luck,
impossible in less anomalous times, he was taken at his own valuation for
years. La Pucelle was quoted in manuscript, and anxiously expected for half
a short lifetime. It only appeared to be hopelessly damned. There are
passages in it of merit, but they are associated with lines which read like
designed burlesques. The onslaughts of Boileau have created a kind of
reaction in favour of Chapelain with some who disagree with Boileau's
poetical principles: but he is not defensible. His odes are indeed tolerable in
parts; not so the Pucelle, save, as has been said, in occasional lines. The
Clovis of Desmarets de Saint-Sorlin is worse than the Pucelle. On the other
hand, the Père le Moyne in his St. Louis, taking apparently Du Bartas as his
model, produced work which, if not very readable as a whole, manifests
real and very considerable poetical talent. Lastly, Saint Amant in the Moïse
his poetical talent; Charleval, whose personal popularity was greater than
his literary ability; Maucroix, the friend of La Fontaine; Segrais, an eclogue
writer of no small merit; Chapelle, an idle epicurean, who derives most of
his fame from the fact of his having been intimate with all the foremost
literary men of the time, and from his having composed, in company with
Bachaumont, a Voyage in mixed prose and verse, the form of which was
long very popular in France and was imitated with especial success by
Anthony Hamilton and Voltaire; Pavillon, who deserves a very similar
general description, but who gave no such single example of his abilities:
all belong to this class.
Side by side with the frivolous school, but in curious
contrast with it, there existed a school of ponderous epic Epic School.
writers, the extirpation of which is the best claim of Chapelain.
Boileau to the gratitude of posterity. The typical poets of this class are
Georges de Scudéry, the author of Alaric, and Chapelain, the author of the
Pucelle. Scudéry was a soldier and a man of considerable talent, who
lacked nothing but patience and the power of self-criticism to produce
really good work. Like his more famous sister, he had invention and literary
facility. His plays are not without merit in parts, and his epic of Alaric,
amidst astonishing platitudes and extravagances, has occasional good lines.
But Chapelain is by far the most remarkable figure of the school. He was
bred up to be a poet from his earliest age, and by a stroke of luck,
impossible in less anomalous times, he was taken at his own valuation for
years. La Pucelle was quoted in manuscript, and anxiously expected for half
a short lifetime. It only appeared to be hopelessly damned. There are
passages in it of merit, but they are associated with lines which read like
designed burlesques. The onslaughts of Boileau have created a kind of
reaction in favour of Chapelain with some who disagree with Boileau's
poetical principles: but he is not defensible. His odes are indeed tolerable in
parts; not so the Pucelle, save, as has been said, in occasional lines. The
Clovis of Desmarets de Saint-Sorlin is worse than the Pucelle. On the other
hand, the Père le Moyne in his St. Louis, taking apparently Du Bartas as his
model, produced work which, if not very readable as a whole, manifests
real and very considerable poetical talent. Lastly, Saint Amant in the Moïse
Page 309
Sauvé showed how far below himself a clever writer may be when he
mistakes his style.
Saint Amant[228], who, to do him justice, did not call
Moïse Sauvé an epic but an 'idylle héroique,' is the link Bacchanalian
School. Saint
between this school and a third composed of purely Amant.
convivial poets, who even in this century furnished work
of remarkable excellence, and who produced a numerous and brilliant
progeny in the next. Saint Amant's Anacreontic poems are of great merit. Of
the same class was Saint Pavin, who was not merely a free liver, but a
member of the small but influential free-thinking sect which preceded and
gave birth to the Philosophes of the next century. This time, moreover, was
the period of a curious literary trick, the resuscitation or forging of the
convivial poems of Oliver Basselin by a Norman lawyer of the name of
Jean le Houx. A genuine and contemporary Basselin, in the person of a
carpenter named Adam Billaut, produced some notable work of the same
kind. Unfortunately the Anacreontic poetry of this time suffers from the too
frequent coarseness of its language; a fault which indeed was not fully
corrected until Béranger's days.
The members, however, of all these schools have long
lost their hold on all but students of literature, and, with La Fontaine.
the exception of La Fontaine and Boileau, it is not easy
to mention any non-dramatic poet of the seventeenth century who has kept
a place in the general memory. Jean la Fontaine[229] was born at Château
Thierry in Champagne in the year 1621, and died at Paris in 1695. His
father held a considerable post as ranger of the neighbouring forests, an
office which passed to his son. La Fontaine seems to have been carelessly
educated, but after a certain time literature attracted him, and he began to
study in a desultory fashion, without however, as it would appear, being
himself tempted to write. At the age of six-and-twenty he married Marie
Héricart, a girl of sixteen, who is said to have been both amiable and
beautiful, and not long afterwards he was left his own master by his father's
death. He was suited very ill by nature either to fill a responsible office or to
be head of a house. The well-known stories of his absence of mind, his
simplicity, his indifference to outward affairs, have no doubt been
exaggerated, but there is, equally without doubt, a foundation of fact in
them. On the other hand, though the most serious charges against his wife
mistakes his style.
Saint Amant[228], who, to do him justice, did not call
Moïse Sauvé an epic but an 'idylle héroique,' is the link Bacchanalian
School. Saint
between this school and a third composed of purely Amant.
convivial poets, who even in this century furnished work
of remarkable excellence, and who produced a numerous and brilliant
progeny in the next. Saint Amant's Anacreontic poems are of great merit. Of
the same class was Saint Pavin, who was not merely a free liver, but a
member of the small but influential free-thinking sect which preceded and
gave birth to the Philosophes of the next century. This time, moreover, was
the period of a curious literary trick, the resuscitation or forging of the
convivial poems of Oliver Basselin by a Norman lawyer of the name of
Jean le Houx. A genuine and contemporary Basselin, in the person of a
carpenter named Adam Billaut, produced some notable work of the same
kind. Unfortunately the Anacreontic poetry of this time suffers from the too
frequent coarseness of its language; a fault which indeed was not fully
corrected until Béranger's days.
The members, however, of all these schools have long
lost their hold on all but students of literature, and, with La Fontaine.
the exception of La Fontaine and Boileau, it is not easy
to mention any non-dramatic poet of the seventeenth century who has kept
a place in the general memory. Jean la Fontaine[229] was born at Château
Thierry in Champagne in the year 1621, and died at Paris in 1695. His
father held a considerable post as ranger of the neighbouring forests, an
office which passed to his son. La Fontaine seems to have been carelessly
educated, but after a certain time literature attracted him, and he began to
study in a desultory fashion, without however, as it would appear, being
himself tempted to write. At the age of six-and-twenty he married Marie
Héricart, a girl of sixteen, who is said to have been both amiable and
beautiful, and not long afterwards he was left his own master by his father's
death. He was suited very ill by nature either to fill a responsible office or to
be head of a house. The well-known stories of his absence of mind, his
simplicity, his indifference to outward affairs, have no doubt been
exaggerated, but there is, equally without doubt, a foundation of fact in
them. On the other hand, though the most serious charges against his wife
Page 310
seem to rest on no foundation, it is certain that she had little aptitude for
housewifery. After a time the household was broken up, though there was
offspring of the marriage. A division of goods was effected, and husband
and wife separated, not to meet again except on visits and for brief spaces
of time, though they seem to have remained on perfectly friendly terms. La
Fontaine went to Paris, and very soon attracted the notice of Fouquet, the
magnificent superintendent of the finances, who gave him a pension of a
thousand livres and made him a member of his literary household. Here La
Fontaine began to write. At the downfall of Fouquet he was constant to his
friend, and produced the best-known of his miscellaneous poems, the
'Pleurez, Nymphes de Vaux[230].' The misfortune unsettled him for a time,
and he travelled about. But returning to his native place, he was taken into
favour by the Duchess of Bouillon, and this was the beginning of a series of
patronages which lasted till the end of his life. Once more visiting Paris, he
became a favourite with many men and women of rank, and began his
serious literary work by producing the first part of his Contes. The
remaining parts and the Fables appeared at intervals during the remainder
of his life. His second visit to Paris brought about his traditional association
with Boileau, Molière, and Racine, the four meeting at regular intervals,
either in taverns or at lodgings in the Rue Vieux Colombier. During the later
years of his life La Fontaine was a confirmed Parisian. His office at Château
Thierry had been sold, and he was the guest of various hospitable persons,
the chief of whom was Madame de la Sablière. In 1668 appeared the first
part of the Fables with universal approval. But the free character of the
Contes, and still more the association of La Fontaine with some of the
freethinkers who were in ill-repute with the king's spiritual advisers,
retarded his admission to the Academy. When Colbert died, La Fontaine
and Boileau were the two candidates; an awkward accident, considering
their friendship, and the fact that the court was as decidedly for Boileau as
the Academy itself for La Fontaine. The latter was elected, but the king
delayed his assent, and even seemed likely to exercise a veto, when
fortunately a second vacancy occurred, and Boileau being elected, both
were approved by the king, Boileau warmly, La Fontaine with the grudging
terms 'Vous pouvez recevoir La Fontaine; il a promis d'être sage.' A curious
warning of a similar tenor was contained in the 'Discours de Réception.'
housewifery. After a time the household was broken up, though there was
offspring of the marriage. A division of goods was effected, and husband
and wife separated, not to meet again except on visits and for brief spaces
of time, though they seem to have remained on perfectly friendly terms. La
Fontaine went to Paris, and very soon attracted the notice of Fouquet, the
magnificent superintendent of the finances, who gave him a pension of a
thousand livres and made him a member of his literary household. Here La
Fontaine began to write. At the downfall of Fouquet he was constant to his
friend, and produced the best-known of his miscellaneous poems, the
'Pleurez, Nymphes de Vaux[230].' The misfortune unsettled him for a time,
and he travelled about. But returning to his native place, he was taken into
favour by the Duchess of Bouillon, and this was the beginning of a series of
patronages which lasted till the end of his life. Once more visiting Paris, he
became a favourite with many men and women of rank, and began his
serious literary work by producing the first part of his Contes. The
remaining parts and the Fables appeared at intervals during the remainder
of his life. His second visit to Paris brought about his traditional association
with Boileau, Molière, and Racine, the four meeting at regular intervals,
either in taverns or at lodgings in the Rue Vieux Colombier. During the later
years of his life La Fontaine was a confirmed Parisian. His office at Château
Thierry had been sold, and he was the guest of various hospitable persons,
the chief of whom was Madame de la Sablière. In 1668 appeared the first
part of the Fables with universal approval. But the free character of the
Contes, and still more the association of La Fontaine with some of the
freethinkers who were in ill-repute with the king's spiritual advisers,
retarded his admission to the Academy. When Colbert died, La Fontaine
and Boileau were the two candidates; an awkward accident, considering
their friendship, and the fact that the court was as decidedly for Boileau as
the Academy itself for La Fontaine. The latter was elected, but the king
delayed his assent, and even seemed likely to exercise a veto, when
fortunately a second vacancy occurred, and Boileau being elected, both
were approved by the king, Boileau warmly, La Fontaine with the grudging
terms 'Vous pouvez recevoir La Fontaine; il a promis d'être sage.' A curious
warning of a similar tenor was contained in the 'Discours de Réception.'
Page 311
La Fontaine's work is considerable, including many miscellaneous poems,
the romance of Psyche, and various dramatic attempts which were more or
less failures. But the Contes and the Fables are the only works which have
held their ground with posterity, and it is upon them that his reputation is
justly based. The first part of the Contes appeared at the extreme end of
1664[231], the second in 1667, the third in 1671, but the author added pieces
in successive editions. The first part of the Fables appeared in 1668,
dedicated to the Dauphin, the second in 1679, dedicated to Madame de
Montespan, the third in 1693, dedicated to the Duc de Bourgogne, who is
said to have been taught by Fénelon to delight in La Fontaine, and to have
sent him just before his death all the money he had. The two books are
complementary to each other, and La Fontaine's genius cannot be judged by
either alone. It has been remarked that he was a diligent though apparently a
very desultory reader. He read the Italians, and, apparently with still more
relish and profit, the works of the old French writers, to whom the Italians
owed so much. The spirit of the Fabliaux had been dead, or at any rate
dormant, since Marot and Rabelais; La Fontaine revived it. Even purists,
like his friend Boileau, admitted a certain archaism in lighter poetry, and La
Fontaine would in all probability have troubled himself very little if they
had not. His language is, therefore, more supple, varied, and racy than even
that of Molière, and this is his first excellence. His second is a faculty of
easy narration in verse, which is absolutely unequalled except perhaps in
Pulci and Ariosto, while it is certainly unsurpassed anywhere. His third
distinguishing point is his power of insinuating, it may be a satirical point, it
may be a moral reflection, which is also hardly equalled and as certainly
unsurpassed. In the authors whom La Fontaine followed, either deliberately
or unconsciously, the models of his tales and his fables were
indiscriminately mingled; but he separated them by so rigid a line that,
while there is hardly a phrase in his Fables which is not suited virginibus
puerisque, the Contes are not exactly a book for youth. In the latter the
author has taken subjects, always amusing but not unfrequently loose, from
the old fabulists, from Boccaccio, from the French prose tale-tellers of the
Cent Nouvelles Nouvelles and similar collections, from Rabelais, from a
few Italian writers of the Renaissance, and has dressed them up in the
incomparable narrative of which he alone has the secret. Where he treads in
the steps of the greatest writers he is almost always best. 'Joconde' supplies
the opportunity of a remarkable comparison with Ariosto; 'La Fiancée du
the romance of Psyche, and various dramatic attempts which were more or
less failures. But the Contes and the Fables are the only works which have
held their ground with posterity, and it is upon them that his reputation is
justly based. The first part of the Contes appeared at the extreme end of
1664[231], the second in 1667, the third in 1671, but the author added pieces
in successive editions. The first part of the Fables appeared in 1668,
dedicated to the Dauphin, the second in 1679, dedicated to Madame de
Montespan, the third in 1693, dedicated to the Duc de Bourgogne, who is
said to have been taught by Fénelon to delight in La Fontaine, and to have
sent him just before his death all the money he had. The two books are
complementary to each other, and La Fontaine's genius cannot be judged by
either alone. It has been remarked that he was a diligent though apparently a
very desultory reader. He read the Italians, and, apparently with still more
relish and profit, the works of the old French writers, to whom the Italians
owed so much. The spirit of the Fabliaux had been dead, or at any rate
dormant, since Marot and Rabelais; La Fontaine revived it. Even purists,
like his friend Boileau, admitted a certain archaism in lighter poetry, and La
Fontaine would in all probability have troubled himself very little if they
had not. His language is, therefore, more supple, varied, and racy than even
that of Molière, and this is his first excellence. His second is a faculty of
easy narration in verse, which is absolutely unequalled except perhaps in
Pulci and Ariosto, while it is certainly unsurpassed anywhere. His third
distinguishing point is his power of insinuating, it may be a satirical point, it
may be a moral reflection, which is also hardly equalled and as certainly
unsurpassed. In the authors whom La Fontaine followed, either deliberately
or unconsciously, the models of his tales and his fables were
indiscriminately mingled; but he separated them by so rigid a line that,
while there is hardly a phrase in his Fables which is not suited virginibus
puerisque, the Contes are not exactly a book for youth. In the latter the
author has taken subjects, always amusing but not unfrequently loose, from
the old fabulists, from Boccaccio, from the French prose tale-tellers of the
Cent Nouvelles Nouvelles and similar collections, from Rabelais, from a
few Italian writers of the Renaissance, and has dressed them up in the
incomparable narrative of which he alone has the secret. Where he treads in
the steps of the greatest writers he is almost always best. 'Joconde' supplies
the opportunity of a remarkable comparison with Ariosto; 'La Fiancée du
Page 312
Roi de Garbe' of a still more remarkable comparison with Boccaccio. In this
latter respect the palm of vivid and varied narration is with La Fontaine, but
he misses something of the spirit of the original in his portrait of Alaciel;
indeed La Fontaine's weakest point is in the comparatively pedestrian
character of his treatment. He has little romance, and in translating, not
merely the Italians but such countrymen and women of his own as the
authors of the Heptameron, he loses the poetical charm which, as has been
pointed out, graces and saves the morality or immorality of the
Renaissance. Therefore, despite the wonderful variety and vivid painting of
the Contes, presenting a series of pictures which for these qualities have
few rivals in literature, the disapproval with which censors more rigid than
Johnson (whose excuse of Prior will fairly stretch to Prior's original) have
visited them is not altogether unjustifiable.
The Fables, with hardly less excellence of the purely literary kind, are
fortunately free from the least vestige of any similar fault. La Fontaine,
instead of in the smallest degree degrading the beast-fable, has, on the
contrary, exalted it to almost the highest point of which it is capable. Not
many books have made and kept a more durable and solid reputation. The
few dissentient voices in the chorus of eulogy have been those of eccentric
crotcheteers like Rousseau, or sentimentalists like Lamartine. It is, indeed,
impossible to read the Fables without prejudice and not be captivated by
them. As mere narratives they are charming, and the perpetual presence of
an undercurrent of sly, good-humoured, satirical meaning relieves them
from all charge of insipidity. La Fontaine, like Goldsmith, was with his pen
in his hand as shrewd and as deeply learned in human nature as without it
he was simple and naïf.
Something has to be said of the form and strictly poetical value of these two
remarkable books—as remarkable, let it be remembered, for their bulk as
for their excellence, for between them they cannot contain much less than
30,000 verses. The measure is almost always an irregular mixture of lines of
different lengths, rhyming sometimes in couplets, sometimes in interlaced
stanzas, which La Fontaine established as the vehicle of serio-comic
narration. For this, in his hands, it is extraordinarily well fitted. As for the
strictly poetic value of the work, it is perhaps significant that though he is,
taking quantity and excellence together, the most important non-dramatic
writer of verse of the whole century in France, he is rarely thought of (out
latter respect the palm of vivid and varied narration is with La Fontaine, but
he misses something of the spirit of the original in his portrait of Alaciel;
indeed La Fontaine's weakest point is in the comparatively pedestrian
character of his treatment. He has little romance, and in translating, not
merely the Italians but such countrymen and women of his own as the
authors of the Heptameron, he loses the poetical charm which, as has been
pointed out, graces and saves the morality or immorality of the
Renaissance. Therefore, despite the wonderful variety and vivid painting of
the Contes, presenting a series of pictures which for these qualities have
few rivals in literature, the disapproval with which censors more rigid than
Johnson (whose excuse of Prior will fairly stretch to Prior's original) have
visited them is not altogether unjustifiable.
The Fables, with hardly less excellence of the purely literary kind, are
fortunately free from the least vestige of any similar fault. La Fontaine,
instead of in the smallest degree degrading the beast-fable, has, on the
contrary, exalted it to almost the highest point of which it is capable. Not
many books have made and kept a more durable and solid reputation. The
few dissentient voices in the chorus of eulogy have been those of eccentric
crotcheteers like Rousseau, or sentimentalists like Lamartine. It is, indeed,
impossible to read the Fables without prejudice and not be captivated by
them. As mere narratives they are charming, and the perpetual presence of
an undercurrent of sly, good-humoured, satirical meaning relieves them
from all charge of insipidity. La Fontaine, like Goldsmith, was with his pen
in his hand as shrewd and as deeply learned in human nature as without it
he was simple and naïf.
Something has to be said of the form and strictly poetical value of these two
remarkable books—as remarkable, let it be remembered, for their bulk as
for their excellence, for between them they cannot contain much less than
30,000 verses. The measure is almost always an irregular mixture of lines of
different lengths, rhyming sometimes in couplets, sometimes in interlaced
stanzas, which La Fontaine established as the vehicle of serio-comic
narration. For this, in his hands, it is extraordinarily well fitted. As for the
strictly poetic value of the work, it is perhaps significant that though he is,
taking quantity and excellence together, the most important non-dramatic
writer of verse of the whole century in France, he is rarely thought of (out
Page 313
of France) as a poet. A poet, indeed, in the highest sense of the word he is
not. He has hardly any passion, evidences of it being almost confined to the
elegy to Fouquet and, perhaps, as M. Théodore de Banville pleads, to the
'Faucon' and 'Courtisane Amoureuse' of the Contes. He has no indefinite
suggestion of beauty; even his descriptions of nature, though always
accurate and picturesque, being somewhat prosaic. He may be said to be a
prose writer of the very first class who chose to write in verse, and who
justified his choice by a wonderful technical ability in the particular form of
verse which he used. There is no greater mistake than the supposition that
La Fontaine's verse-writing is mere facile improvisation.
Nicolas Boileau[232], who was long known in France as
the 'Law-giver of Parnassus,' and who, perhaps, Boileau.
exercised a more powerful and lasting influence over the
literature of his native country than any other critic has ever enjoyed, was
born at Paris on All Saints' Day, 1636. His father held the post of registrar
of one of the numerous courts of law, and his family had legal connections
of wide range and long date. He himself was brought up to the law, but had
not the least inclination for it; and at his father's death, which happened
exactly when he attained his majority, his inheritance was considerable
enough to allow him to do as he pleased. The family was a large one, and,
according to a custom of the time, the brothers, or at least some of them,
were distinguished by additional surnames. That which Nicolas took—
Despréaux—was, at any rate during his youth, more frequently used than
his patronymic, and has continued to be applied to him indifferently,
thereby causing some odd blunders on the part of ignorant people. He
himself sometimes signed Despréaux and sometimes Boileau-Despréaux.
Besides law, he had also studied theology, and, though he never took orders,
he enjoyed for a considerable time a priory at Beauvais, the profits of
which, however, he returned when he definitely abandoned the idea of the
church as a profession. He very early made attempts in literature, and when
he was a man of seven- or eight-and-twenty, he joined La Fontaine, Racine,
and Molière in the celebrated society of four. Social and literary criticism
was even thus early his forte, and his first collections of Horatian satire
were published in 1666, though, owing to the influence of Chapelain, the
royal privilege was shortly after withdrawn from them. Boileau, however,
soon became a great favourite with the king, as, though in actual
not. He has hardly any passion, evidences of it being almost confined to the
elegy to Fouquet and, perhaps, as M. Théodore de Banville pleads, to the
'Faucon' and 'Courtisane Amoureuse' of the Contes. He has no indefinite
suggestion of beauty; even his descriptions of nature, though always
accurate and picturesque, being somewhat prosaic. He may be said to be a
prose writer of the very first class who chose to write in verse, and who
justified his choice by a wonderful technical ability in the particular form of
verse which he used. There is no greater mistake than the supposition that
La Fontaine's verse-writing is mere facile improvisation.
Nicolas Boileau[232], who was long known in France as
the 'Law-giver of Parnassus,' and who, perhaps, Boileau.
exercised a more powerful and lasting influence over the
literature of his native country than any other critic has ever enjoyed, was
born at Paris on All Saints' Day, 1636. His father held the post of registrar
of one of the numerous courts of law, and his family had legal connections
of wide range and long date. He himself was brought up to the law, but had
not the least inclination for it; and at his father's death, which happened
exactly when he attained his majority, his inheritance was considerable
enough to allow him to do as he pleased. The family was a large one, and,
according to a custom of the time, the brothers, or at least some of them,
were distinguished by additional surnames. That which Nicolas took—
Despréaux—was, at any rate during his youth, more frequently used than
his patronymic, and has continued to be applied to him indifferently,
thereby causing some odd blunders on the part of ignorant people. He
himself sometimes signed Despréaux and sometimes Boileau-Despréaux.
Besides law, he had also studied theology, and, though he never took orders,
he enjoyed for a considerable time a priory at Beauvais, the profits of
which, however, he returned when he definitely abandoned the idea of the
church as a profession. He very early made attempts in literature, and when
he was a man of seven- or eight-and-twenty, he joined La Fontaine, Racine,
and Molière in the celebrated society of four. Social and literary criticism
was even thus early his forte, and his first collections of Horatian satire
were published in 1666, though, owing to the influence of Chapelain, the
royal privilege was shortly after withdrawn from them. Boileau, however,
soon became a great favourite with the king, as, though in actual
Page 314
conversation he retained his natural freedom of speech, he did not hesitate
to use the most grovelling flattery of expression in verse. Pensions and
places were given to him freely, so that, his own property being not
inconsiderable, he was one of the few wealthy men of letters of the day. He
was kept out of the Academy for some time by the fact that he had libelled
half its members and was unpopular with the other half, but the royal
influence at last got him in in 1684. In his later years the morose arrogance,
which was his chief characteristic, increased on him, and was doubtless
aggravated by the bad health from which he suffered during the whole of
his long life. He died in 1711, having outlived all his friends except Louis
himself.
Boileau's works consist of twelve satires, of the same number of epistles, of
an Art Poétique, of the Lutrin, a serio-comic poem, of two odes, and of
three or four score epigrams and miscellaneous pieces in verse, with a
translation of Longinus on the Sublime, some short critical dissertations,
and a number of letters in prose. With the exception of the Lutrin it will be
observed that almost all his poetical work is very closely modelled on
Horace. His satire is extremely clever, but, as necessarily happens when the
frame and manner of one time are used for the circumstances of another, it
is altogether artificial. The Horatian satire is nothing if not personal, and as
Boileau (even more than Pope, who strongly resembles him) had a bad
heart, his personalities are unusually reckless and offensive. Thus in a
couplet against parasites he inserted at one time the name of Colletet (son of
the Colletet mentioned above), at another that of Pelletier, though both were
notoriously free from the vice, and guilty of no fault except poverty and a
disposition to produce indifferent verse. Boileau's crusade, too, against the
minor poets of his day was unfortunately followed by his own production of
a ridiculous ode, excellently burlesqued by Prior, on the taking of Namur in
1692 by the French. This, with certain pieces of Young's, is perhaps the
most glaring example extant of how a writer of great talent and literary skill
may combine the basest flattery with the most abjectly bad verse. But where
he confined himself to his proper sphere, Boileau exhibited no small power.
He was, in fact, a slashing reviewer in verse, and there has rarely been so
effective a practitioner of the craft. Narrow as was his idea of poetry, it was
perfectly clear and precise, and, as his pupil Racine showed, he could teach
it to others with the most striking success. Le Lutrin, too, is a poem which,
to use the most grovelling flattery of expression in verse. Pensions and
places were given to him freely, so that, his own property being not
inconsiderable, he was one of the few wealthy men of letters of the day. He
was kept out of the Academy for some time by the fact that he had libelled
half its members and was unpopular with the other half, but the royal
influence at last got him in in 1684. In his later years the morose arrogance,
which was his chief characteristic, increased on him, and was doubtless
aggravated by the bad health from which he suffered during the whole of
his long life. He died in 1711, having outlived all his friends except Louis
himself.
Boileau's works consist of twelve satires, of the same number of epistles, of
an Art Poétique, of the Lutrin, a serio-comic poem, of two odes, and of
three or four score epigrams and miscellaneous pieces in verse, with a
translation of Longinus on the Sublime, some short critical dissertations,
and a number of letters in prose. With the exception of the Lutrin it will be
observed that almost all his poetical work is very closely modelled on
Horace. His satire is extremely clever, but, as necessarily happens when the
frame and manner of one time are used for the circumstances of another, it
is altogether artificial. The Horatian satire is nothing if not personal, and as
Boileau (even more than Pope, who strongly resembles him) had a bad
heart, his personalities are unusually reckless and offensive. Thus in a
couplet against parasites he inserted at one time the name of Colletet (son of
the Colletet mentioned above), at another that of Pelletier, though both were
notoriously free from the vice, and guilty of no fault except poverty and a
disposition to produce indifferent verse. Boileau's crusade, too, against the
minor poets of his day was unfortunately followed by his own production of
a ridiculous ode, excellently burlesqued by Prior, on the taking of Namur in
1692 by the French. This, with certain pieces of Young's, is perhaps the
most glaring example extant of how a writer of great talent and literary skill
may combine the basest flattery with the most abjectly bad verse. But where
he confined himself to his proper sphere, Boileau exhibited no small power.
He was, in fact, a slashing reviewer in verse, and there has rarely been so
effective a practitioner of the craft. Narrow as was his idea of poetry, it was
perfectly clear and precise, and, as his pupil Racine showed, he could teach
it to others with the most striking success. Le Lutrin, too, is a poem which,
Page 315
in a rather trivial kind, is something of a masterpiece. Its subject, the quarrel
of a chapter of ecclesiastics about the position of a lutrin (lectern), afforded
Boileau plenty of opportunity for introducing that sarcasm on the upper
middle classes which was his forte; the verse is polished and correct, the
satire, though rather facile and conventional, agreeable enough. His satires
and epistles are full of striking traits evidently studied from the life, but he
is always personal and almost always artificial, never rising to the large
satiric conception of Regnier or of Dryden. So, too, most of the stories
which are recorded of him (and they are many) are stories of ill-natured
remarks. In his heart of hearts he knew and acknowledged the greatness of
Corneille, yet formally and in public he could not refrain from directing
unjust satire at the veteran whose masterpieces had been produced when he
was in his cradle, in order to exalt his own pupil Racine, whom he privately
owned to be simply a very clever and docile rhymester. He himself was
very much the same with the exception of the docility. His good sense, his
talents, his eye for the ludicrous—except in his own work—were
admirable, and the ill-nature of his satires, with their frequent injustice and
the strange ignorance they display of all literature except the Latin classics
and French and Italian contemporary authors, does not prevent their being
excellent examples of French and of the art of polite libelling. It is probable
that Boileau might have fared better but for his inconceivable folly in
attempting, in the Namur ode, a style for which he had not the least
aptitude, and for the parrot-like monotony with which Frenchmen before
1830, and even some of them since that date, have lauded and quoted him
and accepted his dicta. But the most lenient estimate of him can hardly
amount to more than that he was an excellent writer of prose and pedestrian
verse, a critic of singular acuteness within a narrow range, and a satirist
who had a keen eye for the ludicrous aspect of things and persons, and a
remarkable skill at reproducing that aspect in words.
The list of poets of the century has to be completed by
some of more or less importance who flourished in the Minor Poets of the
later days of Louis XIV., and, in some few cases, later Seventeenth
Century.
outlived him. Brébeuf might have been mentioned
before, as he was Boileau's elder, and, dying young, did not reach even the
most brilliant period of the reign. But he is unlike any of the three schools
who have been described, and his language is more modern than that of
of a chapter of ecclesiastics about the position of a lutrin (lectern), afforded
Boileau plenty of opportunity for introducing that sarcasm on the upper
middle classes which was his forte; the verse is polished and correct, the
satire, though rather facile and conventional, agreeable enough. His satires
and epistles are full of striking traits evidently studied from the life, but he
is always personal and almost always artificial, never rising to the large
satiric conception of Regnier or of Dryden. So, too, most of the stories
which are recorded of him (and they are many) are stories of ill-natured
remarks. In his heart of hearts he knew and acknowledged the greatness of
Corneille, yet formally and in public he could not refrain from directing
unjust satire at the veteran whose masterpieces had been produced when he
was in his cradle, in order to exalt his own pupil Racine, whom he privately
owned to be simply a very clever and docile rhymester. He himself was
very much the same with the exception of the docility. His good sense, his
talents, his eye for the ludicrous—except in his own work—were
admirable, and the ill-nature of his satires, with their frequent injustice and
the strange ignorance they display of all literature except the Latin classics
and French and Italian contemporary authors, does not prevent their being
excellent examples of French and of the art of polite libelling. It is probable
that Boileau might have fared better but for his inconceivable folly in
attempting, in the Namur ode, a style for which he had not the least
aptitude, and for the parrot-like monotony with which Frenchmen before
1830, and even some of them since that date, have lauded and quoted him
and accepted his dicta. But the most lenient estimate of him can hardly
amount to more than that he was an excellent writer of prose and pedestrian
verse, a critic of singular acuteness within a narrow range, and a satirist
who had a keen eye for the ludicrous aspect of things and persons, and a
remarkable skill at reproducing that aspect in words.
The list of poets of the century has to be completed by
some of more or less importance who flourished in the Minor Poets of the
later days of Louis XIV., and, in some few cases, later Seventeenth
Century.
outlived him. Brébeuf might have been mentioned
before, as he was Boileau's elder, and, dying young, did not reach even the
most brilliant period of the reign. But he is unlike any of the three schools
who have been described, and his language is more modern than that of
Page 316
most of the poets who wrote before or during the Fronde. His principal
work is a translation of the Pharsalia, in which both the defects and the
merits of the original are represented with remarkable fidelity. Boileau, who
found fault with his fatras obscur, allowed him frequent flashes of genius,
and these flashes are rather more frequent than might be supposed, being
also of a kind which Boileau was not usually inclined to recognise. Brébeuf
is decidedly of what may be called the right school of French poets, though
he is one of the least of that school. His minor poetry displays the same
characteristics as his translation, but is of less importance. Madame
Deshoulières, still more unjustly criticised by Boileau, is unquestionably
one of the chief poetesses of France; indeed, with Louise Labé and
Marceline Desbordes Valmore, she is almost the only one of importance.
Her poems, like those of most of her contemporaries, are of the occasional
order, and have too much in them that is artificial, but frequently also they
have real pathos and occasionally not a little vigour. 'Le Songe' is a very
admirable ode, having some of the characteristics of the English Caroline
school. Racine himself, independently of his dramas, and the choruses
inserted in them, wrote some poetry, chiefly religious, which has his usual
characteristics of refinement in language and versification. Anthony
Hamilton has left some verses (notably an exquisite song, beginning 'Celle
qu'adore mon cœur n'est ni brune ni blonde') as dainty and original as his
prose. At the end of the century two poets, whose names always occur
together in literary history, the Abbé de Chaulieu and the Marquis de la
Fare, close the record. They were not only alike in their literary work, but
were personal friends, and not the worst of Chaulieu's pieces is an elegy on
La Fare, whom, though the older man of the two, he survived. They were
both members of the libertine society of the Temple, over which the Duke
de Vendôme presided, and which, somewhat later, formed Voltaire. The
verses of both were strictly occasional. Chaulieu, like many men of letters
of the time, published nothing during his long life, though his poems were
known to French society in manuscript. Besides the verses on La Fare,
Chaulieu's best poem is, perhaps, that 'On a Country Life' (the author being
an inveterate inhabitant of towns). La Fare, on the other hand, is best known
by his stanzas to Chaulieu on 'La Paresse,' which he was well qualified to
sing, inasmuch as it is said that during many years of his long life he did
nothing but sleep and eat. The verses of the two continued to be models of
style, and (in a way) of choice of subject, during the whole eighteenth
work is a translation of the Pharsalia, in which both the defects and the
merits of the original are represented with remarkable fidelity. Boileau, who
found fault with his fatras obscur, allowed him frequent flashes of genius,
and these flashes are rather more frequent than might be supposed, being
also of a kind which Boileau was not usually inclined to recognise. Brébeuf
is decidedly of what may be called the right school of French poets, though
he is one of the least of that school. His minor poetry displays the same
characteristics as his translation, but is of less importance. Madame
Deshoulières, still more unjustly criticised by Boileau, is unquestionably
one of the chief poetesses of France; indeed, with Louise Labé and
Marceline Desbordes Valmore, she is almost the only one of importance.
Her poems, like those of most of her contemporaries, are of the occasional
order, and have too much in them that is artificial, but frequently also they
have real pathos and occasionally not a little vigour. 'Le Songe' is a very
admirable ode, having some of the characteristics of the English Caroline
school. Racine himself, independently of his dramas, and the choruses
inserted in them, wrote some poetry, chiefly religious, which has his usual
characteristics of refinement in language and versification. Anthony
Hamilton has left some verses (notably an exquisite song, beginning 'Celle
qu'adore mon cœur n'est ni brune ni blonde') as dainty and original as his
prose. At the end of the century two poets, whose names always occur
together in literary history, the Abbé de Chaulieu and the Marquis de la
Fare, close the record. They were not only alike in their literary work, but
were personal friends, and not the worst of Chaulieu's pieces is an elegy on
La Fare, whom, though the older man of the two, he survived. They were
both members of the libertine society of the Temple, over which the Duke
de Vendôme presided, and which, somewhat later, formed Voltaire. The
verses of both were strictly occasional. Chaulieu, like many men of letters
of the time, published nothing during his long life, though his poems were
known to French society in manuscript. Besides the verses on La Fare,
Chaulieu's best poem is, perhaps, that 'On a Country Life' (the author being
an inveterate inhabitant of towns). La Fare, on the other hand, is best known
by his stanzas to Chaulieu on 'La Paresse,' which he was well qualified to
sing, inasmuch as it is said that during many years of his long life he did
nothing but sleep and eat. The verses of the two continued to be models of
style, and (in a way) of choice of subject, during the whole eighteenth
Page 317
century. Macaulay's rhetorical description of Frederic's verses, as 'hateful to
gods and men, the faint echo of the lyre of Chaulieu,' is not quite just in its
suggestion. Chaulieu, and still more La Fare, wrote very fair occasional
poetry. One curious application of verse during this century requires
mention in conclusion. This was the Gazette, or rhymed news-letter, in
which the gossip of the day, the diversions of the court, etc., were recorded
for the amusement and instruction of great persons in the most pedestrian of
octosyllables. The chief writer of these trifles, which are very voluminous,
and which have preserved many curious particulars, was Loret, who was
succeeded by Robinet, Boursault, Laurent, and others.
FOOTNOTES:
[224] Ed. Lalanne. 5 vols. Paris, 1862 67; also (poems only) conveniently by
Jannet. Paris, 1874. Besides his verse Malherbe wrote some translations of
Seneca and Livy, and a great number of letters, including many to Peiresc, a
savant of the time who is best known from Gassendi's Life of him.
[225] Ed. Latour. 2 vols. Paris, 1857.
[226] Ed. Alleaume. 2 vols. Paris, 1855.
[227] Ed. Ubicini. 2 vols. Paris, 1855.
[228] Ed. Livet. 2 vols. Paris, 1855.
[229] This is in reality the beginning of the second line of the poem, though it is
often quoted as if it were the first.
[230] Ed. Moland. 7 vols. Paris, 1879. Also ed. Regnier, vol. i. Paris, 1883.
[231] In previous editions this date was, by an oversight, wrongly printed as
1662. M. Scherer in correcting it has himself made a probable mistake in giving
'1665.' That date is on the title-page, but the achevé d'imprimer is dated Dec. 10,
1664, and as a second edition was finished by Jan. 10, 1665, it is practically
certain that the book was out before the end of the year.
[232] Ed. Fournier. Paris, 1873.
gods and men, the faint echo of the lyre of Chaulieu,' is not quite just in its
suggestion. Chaulieu, and still more La Fare, wrote very fair occasional
poetry. One curious application of verse during this century requires
mention in conclusion. This was the Gazette, or rhymed news-letter, in
which the gossip of the day, the diversions of the court, etc., were recorded
for the amusement and instruction of great persons in the most pedestrian of
octosyllables. The chief writer of these trifles, which are very voluminous,
and which have preserved many curious particulars, was Loret, who was
succeeded by Robinet, Boursault, Laurent, and others.
FOOTNOTES:
[224] Ed. Lalanne. 5 vols. Paris, 1862 67; also (poems only) conveniently by
Jannet. Paris, 1874. Besides his verse Malherbe wrote some translations of
Seneca and Livy, and a great number of letters, including many to Peiresc, a
savant of the time who is best known from Gassendi's Life of him.
[225] Ed. Latour. 2 vols. Paris, 1857.
[226] Ed. Alleaume. 2 vols. Paris, 1855.
[227] Ed. Ubicini. 2 vols. Paris, 1855.
[228] Ed. Livet. 2 vols. Paris, 1855.
[229] This is in reality the beginning of the second line of the poem, though it is
often quoted as if it were the first.
[230] Ed. Moland. 7 vols. Paris, 1879. Also ed. Regnier, vol. i. Paris, 1883.
[231] In previous editions this date was, by an oversight, wrongly printed as
1662. M. Scherer in correcting it has himself made a probable mistake in giving
'1665.' That date is on the title-page, but the achevé d'imprimer is dated Dec. 10,
1664, and as a second edition was finished by Jan. 10, 1665, it is practically
certain that the book was out before the end of the year.
[232] Ed. Fournier. Paris, 1873.
Page 318
CHAPTER II.
DRAMATISTS.
While the influence of Malherbe was thus cramping and withering poetry
proper in France, it combined with some other causes to enable drama to
attain the highest perfection possible in the particular style practised. In
non-dramatic poetry, the only name of the seventeenth century which can be
said even to approach the first class is that of La Fontaine, whose verse,
except for its technical excellence, is almost as near to prose as to poetry
itself. But the names of Corneille, Racine, and Molière stand in the highest
rank of French authors, and their works will remain the chief examples of
the kind of drama which they professed. Nor is this difference in any way
surprising. It has been already shown that the style of drama introduced into
France by the Pléiade, and pursued with but little alteration afterwards, was
a highly artificial and a highly limited kind. It lent itself successfully to
comparatively few situations; it excluded variety of action on the stage; it
gave no opening for the display of complicated character. But these very
limitations made it susceptible of very high polish and elaboration within its
own limited range, and made such polish and elaboration almost a necessity
if it was to be tolerable at all. The correct and cold language and style which
Malherbe preached; the regularity and harmony of versification on which
he insisted; the strict attention to rule rather than impulse which he urged,
all suited a thing in itself so artificial as the Senecan tragedy. They were not
so suitable to the more libertine genius of comedy. But here, fortunately for
France, the regulations were less rigid, and the abiding popularity of the
indigenous farce gave a healthy corrective. The astonishing genius of
Molière succeeded in combining the two influences—the lawless freedom
of the old farce, and the ordered decency of the Malherbian poetry. Even his
theatre shows some sign of the taint with which 'classical' drama is so
deeply imbued, but its force and truth almost or altogether redeem the
imperfections of its scheme.
We have seen that the early tragedy, which was more or less directly
reproductive of Seneca, attained its highest pitch in the work of Garnier.
DRAMATISTS.
While the influence of Malherbe was thus cramping and withering poetry
proper in France, it combined with some other causes to enable drama to
attain the highest perfection possible in the particular style practised. In
non-dramatic poetry, the only name of the seventeenth century which can be
said even to approach the first class is that of La Fontaine, whose verse,
except for its technical excellence, is almost as near to prose as to poetry
itself. But the names of Corneille, Racine, and Molière stand in the highest
rank of French authors, and their works will remain the chief examples of
the kind of drama which they professed. Nor is this difference in any way
surprising. It has been already shown that the style of drama introduced into
France by the Pléiade, and pursued with but little alteration afterwards, was
a highly artificial and a highly limited kind. It lent itself successfully to
comparatively few situations; it excluded variety of action on the stage; it
gave no opening for the display of complicated character. But these very
limitations made it susceptible of very high polish and elaboration within its
own limited range, and made such polish and elaboration almost a necessity
if it was to be tolerable at all. The correct and cold language and style which
Malherbe preached; the regularity and harmony of versification on which
he insisted; the strict attention to rule rather than impulse which he urged,
all suited a thing in itself so artificial as the Senecan tragedy. They were not
so suitable to the more libertine genius of comedy. But here, fortunately for
France, the regulations were less rigid, and the abiding popularity of the
indigenous farce gave a healthy corrective. The astonishing genius of
Molière succeeded in combining the two influences—the lawless freedom
of the old farce, and the ordered decency of the Malherbian poetry. Even his
theatre shows some sign of the taint with which 'classical' drama is so
deeply imbued, but its force and truth almost or altogether redeem the
imperfections of its scheme.
We have seen that the early tragedy, which was more or less directly
reproductive of Seneca, attained its highest pitch in the work of Garnier.
Page 319
This pitch was on the whole well maintained by Antoine
de Montchrestien, a man of a singular history and of a Montchrestien.
singular genius. The date of his birth is not exactly
known, but he was the son of an apothecary at Falaise, and belonged to the
Huguenot party. Duels and lawsuits succeed each other in his story, and by
some means or other he was able to assume the title of Seigneur de
Vasteville. In one of his duels he killed his man, and had to fly to England.
Being pardoned, he returned to France and took to commerce. But after the
death of Henri IV. he joined a Huguenot rising, and was killed in October
1621. Montchrestien wrote a treatise on Political Economy (he is even said
to have been the first to introduce the term into French), some poems, and
six tragedies, Sophonisbe, or La Cartaginoise, Les Lacènes, David, Aman,
Hector, and L'Écossaise. Racine availed himself not a little of Aman, but
L'Écossaise is Montchrestien's best piece. In it he set the example to a long
line of dramatists, from Vondel to Mr. Swinburne, who have since treated
the story of Mary Queen of Scots. It is not part of the merit of
Montchrestien to have improved on the technical defects of the Jodelle-
Garnier model. His action is still deficient, his speeches immoderately long.
But his choric odes are of great beauty, and his tirades, disproportionate as
they are, show a considerable advance in the power of indicating character
as well as in style and versification. Beyond this, however, the force of the
model could no further go, and some alteration was necessary. Indeed it is
by no means certain that the later plays of this class were ever acted at all,
or were anything more than closet drama.
For a not inconsiderable time the fate of French tragedy
trembled in the balance. During the first thirty years of Hardy.
the seventeenth century the most prominent dramatist
was Alexandre Hardy[233]. He is the first and not the Minor predecessors
of Corneille.
least important example in French literary history of a
dramatic author pure and simple, a playwright who was a playwright, and
nothing else. Hardy was for years attached to the regular company of actors
who had succeeded the Confrérie at the Hôtel de Bourgogne, and wrote or
adapted pieces for them at the tariff (it is said) of fifty crowns a play. His
fertility was immense; and he is said to have written some hundreds of
plays. The exact number is variously stated at from five to seven hundred.
Forty-one exist in print. Although not destitute of original power, Hardy
de Montchrestien, a man of a singular history and of a Montchrestien.
singular genius. The date of his birth is not exactly
known, but he was the son of an apothecary at Falaise, and belonged to the
Huguenot party. Duels and lawsuits succeed each other in his story, and by
some means or other he was able to assume the title of Seigneur de
Vasteville. In one of his duels he killed his man, and had to fly to England.
Being pardoned, he returned to France and took to commerce. But after the
death of Henri IV. he joined a Huguenot rising, and was killed in October
1621. Montchrestien wrote a treatise on Political Economy (he is even said
to have been the first to introduce the term into French), some poems, and
six tragedies, Sophonisbe, or La Cartaginoise, Les Lacènes, David, Aman,
Hector, and L'Écossaise. Racine availed himself not a little of Aman, but
L'Écossaise is Montchrestien's best piece. In it he set the example to a long
line of dramatists, from Vondel to Mr. Swinburne, who have since treated
the story of Mary Queen of Scots. It is not part of the merit of
Montchrestien to have improved on the technical defects of the Jodelle-
Garnier model. His action is still deficient, his speeches immoderately long.
But his choric odes are of great beauty, and his tirades, disproportionate as
they are, show a considerable advance in the power of indicating character
as well as in style and versification. Beyond this, however, the force of the
model could no further go, and some alteration was necessary. Indeed it is
by no means certain that the later plays of this class were ever acted at all,
or were anything more than closet drama.
For a not inconsiderable time the fate of French tragedy
trembled in the balance. During the first thirty years of Hardy.
the seventeenth century the most prominent dramatist
was Alexandre Hardy[233]. He is the first and not the Minor predecessors
of Corneille.
least important example in French literary history of a
dramatic author pure and simple, a playwright who was a playwright, and
nothing else. Hardy was for years attached to the regular company of actors
who had succeeded the Confrérie at the Hôtel de Bourgogne, and wrote or
adapted pieces for them at the tariff (it is said) of fifty crowns a play. His
fertility was immense; and he is said to have written some hundreds of
plays. The exact number is variously stated at from five to seven hundred.
Forty-one exist in print. Although not destitute of original power, Hardy
Page 320
was driven to the already copious theatre of Spain for subjects and models.
His plays being meant for acting and for nothing else, the scholarly but
tedious exercitations of the Pléiade school were out of the question. Yet,
while he introduced a great deal of Spanish embroilment into his plots, and
a great deal of Spanish bombast into his speeches, Hardy still accepted the
general outline of the classical tragedy, and, though utterly careless of unity
of place and time, adhered for the most part to the perhaps more
mischievous unity of action. His best play, Mariamne, is powerfully
written, is arranged with considerable skill, and contains some fine lines
and even scenes; but, little as Hardy hampered himself with rules, it still
has, to an English reader, a certain thinness of interest. A contemporary of
Hardy's, Jean de Schélandre, made, in a play[234] which does not seem ever
to have been acted, a remarkable attempt at enfranchising French tragedy
with the full privileges rather of the English than of the Spanish drama; but
this play, Tyr et Sidon, had no imitators and no influence, and the general
model remained unaltered. But during the first quarter of the century the
theatre was exceedingly popular, and the institution of strolling troops of
actors spread its popularity all over France. Nearly a hundred names of
dramatic writers of this time are preserved. Most of these, no doubt, were
but retainers of the houses or the troops, and did little but patch, adapt, and
translate. But of the immediate predecessors of Corneille, and his earlier
contemporaries, at least half-a-dozen are more or less known to fame,
besides the really great name of Rotrou. Mairet, Tristan, Du Ryer, Scudéry,
Claveret, and D'Aubignac, were the chief of these. Mairet has been called
the French Marston, and the resemblance is not confined to the fact that
both wrote tragedies on the favourite subject of Sophonisba. The chief work
of Tristan, who was also a poet of some merit, was Marianne (Mariamne),
very closely modelled on an Italian original, and much less vigorous,
though more polished than Hardy's play on the same subject. Du Ryer had
neither Mairet's vigour nor Tristan's tenderness, but he made more progress
than either of them had done in the direction of the completed tragedy of
Corneille and Racine. Scudéry's Amour Tyrannique is vigorous and
bombastic. Claveret and D'Aubignac (the latter of whom was an active
critic as well as a bad playwright) principally derive their reputation, such
as it is, from the acerbity with which they attacked Corneille in the dispute
about the Cid; nor should the name of Théophile de Viaud be passed over in
this connection. His Pyrame et Thisbé is often considered as almost the
His plays being meant for acting and for nothing else, the scholarly but
tedious exercitations of the Pléiade school were out of the question. Yet,
while he introduced a great deal of Spanish embroilment into his plots, and
a great deal of Spanish bombast into his speeches, Hardy still accepted the
general outline of the classical tragedy, and, though utterly careless of unity
of place and time, adhered for the most part to the perhaps more
mischievous unity of action. His best play, Mariamne, is powerfully
written, is arranged with considerable skill, and contains some fine lines
and even scenes; but, little as Hardy hampered himself with rules, it still
has, to an English reader, a certain thinness of interest. A contemporary of
Hardy's, Jean de Schélandre, made, in a play[234] which does not seem ever
to have been acted, a remarkable attempt at enfranchising French tragedy
with the full privileges rather of the English than of the Spanish drama; but
this play, Tyr et Sidon, had no imitators and no influence, and the general
model remained unaltered. But during the first quarter of the century the
theatre was exceedingly popular, and the institution of strolling troops of
actors spread its popularity all over France. Nearly a hundred names of
dramatic writers of this time are preserved. Most of these, no doubt, were
but retainers of the houses or the troops, and did little but patch, adapt, and
translate. But of the immediate predecessors of Corneille, and his earlier
contemporaries, at least half-a-dozen are more or less known to fame,
besides the really great name of Rotrou. Mairet, Tristan, Du Ryer, Scudéry,
Claveret, and D'Aubignac, were the chief of these. Mairet has been called
the French Marston, and the resemblance is not confined to the fact that
both wrote tragedies on the favourite subject of Sophonisba. The chief work
of Tristan, who was also a poet of some merit, was Marianne (Mariamne),
very closely modelled on an Italian original, and much less vigorous,
though more polished than Hardy's play on the same subject. Du Ryer had
neither Mairet's vigour nor Tristan's tenderness, but he made more progress
than either of them had done in the direction of the completed tragedy of
Corneille and Racine. Scudéry's Amour Tyrannique is vigorous and
bombastic. Claveret and D'Aubignac (the latter of whom was an active
critic as well as a bad playwright) principally derive their reputation, such
as it is, from the acerbity with which they attacked Corneille in the dispute
about the Cid; nor should the name of Théophile de Viaud be passed over in
this connection. His Pyrame et Thisbé is often considered as almost the
Page 321
extreme example (though Corneille's Clitandre is perhaps worse) of the
conceited Spanish-French style in tragedy. The passage in which Thisbe
accuses the poniard with which Pyramus has stabbed himself of blushing at
having sullied itself with the blood of its master is a commonplace of
quotation. Yet, like all Théophile's work, Pyrame et Thisbé has value, and
so has the unrepresented tragedy of Pasiphaé.
Among these forgotten names, and others more
absolutely forgotten still, that of Rotrou[235] is pre- Rotrou.
eminently distinguished. Jean de Rotrou (the particle is
not uniformly allowed him) was born at Dreux in 1609, and was thus three
years younger than Corneille. He went earlier to Paris, however, and at once
betook himself to dramatic poetry, his Hypocondriaque being represented
before he was nineteen. He formed with Corneille, Colletet, Bois-Robert,
and L'Etoile, the band of Richelieu's 'Five Poets,' who composed tragedies
jointly on the Cardinal's plans[236]. He also worked unceasingly at the
theatre on his own account. Thirty-five pieces are certainly, and five more
doubtfully, attributed to him. For some time he had to work for bread, and
the only weakness charged against him, a mania for gambling, left him
poor, and perhaps prevented him from devoting to his work as much pains
as he might otherwise have given. After a time, however, he was pensioned,
and appointed to various legal posts which members of his family had
previously held at Dreux. His fidelity to his official duty was the cause of
his death. He was at Paris when a violent epidemic broke out at Dreux. All
who could left the town, and Rotrou was strongly dissuaded from returning.
But he felt himself responsible for the maintenance of order, likely at such a
time to be specially endangered. He returned at once, caught the infection,
and died. Rotrou's plays are too numerous for a complete list of them to be
here given, and by common consent two of them, Le Véritable Saint Genest
and Venceslas, greatly excel the rest, though vigorous verse and good
scenes are to be found in almost all. These plays, it should be observed,
were not written until after the publication of Corneille's early masterpieces,
though Rotrou had exhibited a play the year before the appearance of
Mélite. The two poets were friends, and though Corneille in a manner
supplanted him, Rotrou was unwavering throughout his life in expressions
of admiration for his great rival. Of the two plays just mentioned, Venceslas
is the more regular, the better adapted to the canons of the French stage, and
conceited Spanish-French style in tragedy. The passage in which Thisbe
accuses the poniard with which Pyramus has stabbed himself of blushing at
having sullied itself with the blood of its master is a commonplace of
quotation. Yet, like all Théophile's work, Pyrame et Thisbé has value, and
so has the unrepresented tragedy of Pasiphaé.
Among these forgotten names, and others more
absolutely forgotten still, that of Rotrou[235] is pre- Rotrou.
eminently distinguished. Jean de Rotrou (the particle is
not uniformly allowed him) was born at Dreux in 1609, and was thus three
years younger than Corneille. He went earlier to Paris, however, and at once
betook himself to dramatic poetry, his Hypocondriaque being represented
before he was nineteen. He formed with Corneille, Colletet, Bois-Robert,
and L'Etoile, the band of Richelieu's 'Five Poets,' who composed tragedies
jointly on the Cardinal's plans[236]. He also worked unceasingly at the
theatre on his own account. Thirty-five pieces are certainly, and five more
doubtfully, attributed to him. For some time he had to work for bread, and
the only weakness charged against him, a mania for gambling, left him
poor, and perhaps prevented him from devoting to his work as much pains
as he might otherwise have given. After a time, however, he was pensioned,
and appointed to various legal posts which members of his family had
previously held at Dreux. His fidelity to his official duty was the cause of
his death. He was at Paris when a violent epidemic broke out at Dreux. All
who could left the town, and Rotrou was strongly dissuaded from returning.
But he felt himself responsible for the maintenance of order, likely at such a
time to be specially endangered. He returned at once, caught the infection,
and died. Rotrou's plays are too numerous for a complete list of them to be
here given, and by common consent two of them, Le Véritable Saint Genest
and Venceslas, greatly excel the rest, though vigorous verse and good
scenes are to be found in almost all. These plays, it should be observed,
were not written until after the publication of Corneille's early masterpieces,
though Rotrou had exhibited a play the year before the appearance of
Mélite. The two poets were friends, and though Corneille in a manner
supplanted him, Rotrou was unwavering throughout his life in expressions
of admiration for his great rival. Of the two plays just mentioned, Venceslas
is the more regular, the better adapted to the canons of the French stage, and
Page 322
the more even in its excellence. Saint Genest is perhaps the more
interesting. The central idea is remarkable. Genest, an actor, performs
before Diocletian a part in which he represents a Christian martyr. He is
miraculously converted during the study of the piece, and at its
performance, after astonishing the audience by the fervour and vividness
with which he plays his part, boldly speaks in his own person, and, avowing
his conversion, is led off to prison and martyrdom. Many of the speeches in
this play are admirable poetry, and the plot is far from ill-managed. The
play within a play, of which Hamlet and the Taming of the Shrew are
English examples, was, at this transition period, a favourite stage incident in
France. Corneille's Illusion is the most complicated example of it, but Saint
Genest is by far the most interesting and the best managed.
There is every reason to believe that though, as has been
said, Rotrou's best pieces were influenced by Corneille, Corneille.
the greater poet owed something at the beginning of his
career to the example of his friend. Pierre Corneille[237] was born at Rouen
in 1606. His father, of the same name, was an official of rank in the legal
hierarchy; his mother was named Marthe le Pesant. He was educated in the
Jesuits' school, went to the bar, and obtained certain small legal preferments
which he afterwards sold. He practised, but 'sans goût et sans succès,' says
Fontenelle, his nephew and biographer. His first comedy, Mélite, is said to
have been suggested by a personal experience. It succeeded at Rouen, and
the author took it to Paris. His next attempt was a tragedy or a tragi-
comedy, Clitandre, of a really marvellous extravagance. It was followed by
several other pieces, in all of which there is remarkable talent, though the
author had not yet found his way. He found it at last in Médée, where the
famous reply of the heroine 'Que vous reste-t-il?' 'Moi,' struck at once the
note which no one but Corneille himself and Victor Hugo has ever struck
since, and which no one had ever struck before. Corneille, as has been said
above, was one of Richelieu's five poets, but he was indocile to the
Cardinal's caprices; and either this indocility or jealousy set Richelieu
against Le Cid. This great and famous play was suggested by, rather than
copied from, the Spanish of Guillem de Castro. It excited an extraordinary
turmoil among men of letters, but the public never went wrong about it
from the first. Boileau's phrase—
interesting. The central idea is remarkable. Genest, an actor, performs
before Diocletian a part in which he represents a Christian martyr. He is
miraculously converted during the study of the piece, and at its
performance, after astonishing the audience by the fervour and vividness
with which he plays his part, boldly speaks in his own person, and, avowing
his conversion, is led off to prison and martyrdom. Many of the speeches in
this play are admirable poetry, and the plot is far from ill-managed. The
play within a play, of which Hamlet and the Taming of the Shrew are
English examples, was, at this transition period, a favourite stage incident in
France. Corneille's Illusion is the most complicated example of it, but Saint
Genest is by far the most interesting and the best managed.
There is every reason to believe that though, as has been
said, Rotrou's best pieces were influenced by Corneille, Corneille.
the greater poet owed something at the beginning of his
career to the example of his friend. Pierre Corneille[237] was born at Rouen
in 1606. His father, of the same name, was an official of rank in the legal
hierarchy; his mother was named Marthe le Pesant. He was educated in the
Jesuits' school, went to the bar, and obtained certain small legal preferments
which he afterwards sold. He practised, but 'sans goût et sans succès,' says
Fontenelle, his nephew and biographer. His first comedy, Mélite, is said to
have been suggested by a personal experience. It succeeded at Rouen, and
the author took it to Paris. His next attempt was a tragedy or a tragi-
comedy, Clitandre, of a really marvellous extravagance. It was followed by
several other pieces, in all of which there is remarkable talent, though the
author had not yet found his way. He found it at last in Médée, where the
famous reply of the heroine 'Que vous reste-t-il?' 'Moi,' struck at once the
note which no one but Corneille himself and Victor Hugo has ever struck
since, and which no one had ever struck before. Corneille, as has been said
above, was one of Richelieu's five poets, but he was indocile to the
Cardinal's caprices; and either this indocility or jealousy set Richelieu
against Le Cid. This great and famous play was suggested by, rather than
copied from, the Spanish of Guillem de Castro. It excited an extraordinary
turmoil among men of letters, but the public never went wrong about it
from the first. Boileau's phrase—
Page 323
Tout Paris pour Chimène a les yeux de Rodrigue,
is as sound in fact as it is smart in expression. The Cid appeared in 1636,
and for some years Corneille produced a succession of masterpieces.
Horace, Cinna, Polyeucte, Le Menteur (a remarkable comic effort, to which
Molière acknowledged his indebtedness), and Rodogune, in some respects
the finest of all, succeeded each other at but short intervals. Half-a-dozen
plays, somewhat inferior in actual merit, and which had the drawback of
coming before a public used to the author and his method, followed, and the
last and least good of them, Pertharite, was damned. Corneille, always the
proudest of writers, was deeply wounded by this ill-success, and publicly
renounced the stage. He devoted himself for some years to a strange task,
the turning of the Imitation of A'Kempis into verse. At last Fouquet, the
Mæcenas of the day, prevailed on him to begin again. He did so with
Œdipe, which was successful. It was followed by many other plays, which
had varying fates. Racine, with a method refined upon Corneille's own, and
a greater sympathy with the actual generation, became the rival of the elder
poet, and Corneille did not obey the wise maxim, solve senescentem. Yet his
later plays have far more merit than is usually allowed to them.
The private life of Corneille was not unhappy, though his haughty and
sensitive temperament brought him many vexations. His gains were small,
never exceeding two hundred louis for a play, and though this was
supplemented by occasional gifts from rich dedicatees and by a scanty
private fortune, the total was insufficient. 'Je suis saoul de gloire et affamé
d'argent' is one of the numerous sayings of scornful discontent recorded of
him. He had a pension, but it was in his later days very ill paid. Nor was he
one of the easy-going men of letters who console themselves by Bohemian
indulgence. In general society he was awkward, constrained, and silent: but
his home, which was long shared with his brother Thomas—they married
two sisters—seems to have been a happy one. He retained till his death in
1684, if not the favour of the King and the general public, that of the
persons whose favour was best worth having, such as Saint-Evremond and
Madame de Sévigné, and his own confidence in his genius never deserted
him.
Corneille's dramatic career may be divided into four parts; the first reaching
from Mélite to L'Illusion Comique; the second (that of his masterpieces),
is as sound in fact as it is smart in expression. The Cid appeared in 1636,
and for some years Corneille produced a succession of masterpieces.
Horace, Cinna, Polyeucte, Le Menteur (a remarkable comic effort, to which
Molière acknowledged his indebtedness), and Rodogune, in some respects
the finest of all, succeeded each other at but short intervals. Half-a-dozen
plays, somewhat inferior in actual merit, and which had the drawback of
coming before a public used to the author and his method, followed, and the
last and least good of them, Pertharite, was damned. Corneille, always the
proudest of writers, was deeply wounded by this ill-success, and publicly
renounced the stage. He devoted himself for some years to a strange task,
the turning of the Imitation of A'Kempis into verse. At last Fouquet, the
Mæcenas of the day, prevailed on him to begin again. He did so with
Œdipe, which was successful. It was followed by many other plays, which
had varying fates. Racine, with a method refined upon Corneille's own, and
a greater sympathy with the actual generation, became the rival of the elder
poet, and Corneille did not obey the wise maxim, solve senescentem. Yet his
later plays have far more merit than is usually allowed to them.
The private life of Corneille was not unhappy, though his haughty and
sensitive temperament brought him many vexations. His gains were small,
never exceeding two hundred louis for a play, and though this was
supplemented by occasional gifts from rich dedicatees and by a scanty
private fortune, the total was insufficient. 'Je suis saoul de gloire et affamé
d'argent' is one of the numerous sayings of scornful discontent recorded of
him. He had a pension, but it was in his later days very ill paid. Nor was he
one of the easy-going men of letters who console themselves by Bohemian
indulgence. In general society he was awkward, constrained, and silent: but
his home, which was long shared with his brother Thomas—they married
two sisters—seems to have been a happy one. He retained till his death in
1684, if not the favour of the King and the general public, that of the
persons whose favour was best worth having, such as Saint-Evremond and
Madame de Sévigné, and his own confidence in his genius never deserted
him.
Corneille's dramatic career may be divided into four parts; the first reaching
from Mélite to L'Illusion Comique; the second (that of his masterpieces),
Page 324
from the Cid to Rodogune; the third, from Théodore to Pertharite; the
fourth, that of the decadence, from Œdipe to Suréna. The following is a list
of the names and dates (these latter being sometimes doubtful and
contentious) of his plays. Mélite, 1629, a comedy improbable and confused
in incident and overdone with verbal pointes, but much beyond anything
previous to it. Clitandre, 1630, a tragedy in the taste of the time, one of the
maddest of plays. La Veuve, 1634, a comedy, well written and lively. La
Galerie du Palais (same year), a capital comedy of its immature kind,
bringing in the humours of contemporary Paris. La Suivante, a comedy
(same year), in which the great character of the soubrette makes her first
appearance. La Place Royale, a comedy, 1635, duller than the Galerie du
Palais, which it in some respects resembles. Médée, a tragedy (same year),
incomparably the best French tragedy up to its date. L'Illusion Comique,
1636, a tragi-comedy of the extremest Spanish type, complicated and
improbable to a degree in its action, which turns on the motive of a play
within a play, and produces, as the author himself remarks, a division into
prologue (Act i), an imperfect comedy (Acts ii-iv), and a tragedy (Act v).
Le Cid, 1636, the best-known if not the best of Corneille's plays, and, from
the mere playwright's point of view, the most attractive. Horace, 1639,
often, but improperly, called Les Horaces, in which the Cornelian method is
seen complete. The final speech of Camille before her brother kills her was
as a whole never exceeded by the author, and the 'qu'il mourût' of the elder
Horace is equally characteristic. Cinna, 1639, the general favourite in
France, but somewhat stilted and devoid of action to foreign taste.
Polyeucte, 1640, the greatest of all Christian tragedies. La Mort de Pompée,
1641, full of stately verse, but heavy and somewhat grandiose. Le Menteur,
1642, a charming comedy, followed by a Suite du Menteur, 1643, not
inferior, though the fickleness of public taste disapproved it. Théodore,
1645, a noble tragedy, which only failed because the prudery of theatrical
precisians found fault with its theme—the subjection of a Christian virgin to
the last and worst trial of her honour and faith. Rodogune, 1646, the chef-
d'œuvre of the style, displaying from beginning to end an astonishing power
of moving admiration and terror. This play marks the climax of Corneille's
faculty. In Héraclius, 1647, no real falling-off is visible; indeed, the
character of Phocas stands almost alone on the French stage as a parallel in
some sort to Iago. Andromède, 1650, introduced a considerable amount of
spectacle and decoration, not unhappily. Don Sanche d'Aragon, 1651,
fourth, that of the decadence, from Œdipe to Suréna. The following is a list
of the names and dates (these latter being sometimes doubtful and
contentious) of his plays. Mélite, 1629, a comedy improbable and confused
in incident and overdone with verbal pointes, but much beyond anything
previous to it. Clitandre, 1630, a tragedy in the taste of the time, one of the
maddest of plays. La Veuve, 1634, a comedy, well written and lively. La
Galerie du Palais (same year), a capital comedy of its immature kind,
bringing in the humours of contemporary Paris. La Suivante, a comedy
(same year), in which the great character of the soubrette makes her first
appearance. La Place Royale, a comedy, 1635, duller than the Galerie du
Palais, which it in some respects resembles. Médée, a tragedy (same year),
incomparably the best French tragedy up to its date. L'Illusion Comique,
1636, a tragi-comedy of the extremest Spanish type, complicated and
improbable to a degree in its action, which turns on the motive of a play
within a play, and produces, as the author himself remarks, a division into
prologue (Act i), an imperfect comedy (Acts ii-iv), and a tragedy (Act v).
Le Cid, 1636, the best-known if not the best of Corneille's plays, and, from
the mere playwright's point of view, the most attractive. Horace, 1639,
often, but improperly, called Les Horaces, in which the Cornelian method is
seen complete. The final speech of Camille before her brother kills her was
as a whole never exceeded by the author, and the 'qu'il mourût' of the elder
Horace is equally characteristic. Cinna, 1639, the general favourite in
France, but somewhat stilted and devoid of action to foreign taste.
Polyeucte, 1640, the greatest of all Christian tragedies. La Mort de Pompée,
1641, full of stately verse, but heavy and somewhat grandiose. Le Menteur,
1642, a charming comedy, followed by a Suite du Menteur, 1643, not
inferior, though the fickleness of public taste disapproved it. Théodore,
1645, a noble tragedy, which only failed because the prudery of theatrical
precisians found fault with its theme—the subjection of a Christian virgin to
the last and worst trial of her honour and faith. Rodogune, 1646, the chef-
d'œuvre of the style, displaying from beginning to end an astonishing power
of moving admiration and terror. This play marks the climax of Corneille's
faculty. In Héraclius, 1647, no real falling-off is visible; indeed, the
character of Phocas stands almost alone on the French stage as a parallel in
some sort to Iago. Andromède, 1650, introduced a considerable amount of
spectacle and decoration, not unhappily. Don Sanche d'Aragon, 1651,
Page 325
Nicomède, 1652, and Pertharite, 1653 (each of which may possibly be a
year older than these respective dates), show what political economists
might call the stationary state of the poet's genius. The first two plays
produced after the interval, Œdipe, 1659, and La Toison d'Or, 1660, both
show the benefit of the rest the poet had had, together with certain signs of
advancing years. La Toison d'Or, like Andromède, includes a great deal of
spectacle, and is rather an elaborate masque interspersed with regular
dramatic scenes than a tragedy. It is one of the best specimens of the kind.
In Sertorius, 1662, there are occasional passages of much grandeur and
beauty, but Sophonisbe, 1663, is hardly a success, nor is Othon, 1664.
Agésilas, 1666, and Attila, 1667, have been (the latter unfairly) damned by
a quatrain of Boileau's. But Tite et Bérénice, 1670, must be acknowledged
to be inferior to the play of Racine in rivalry with which it was produced.
Pulchérie, 1672, and Suréna, 1674, are last-fruits off an old tree, which,
especially the second, are not unworthy of it. Nor was Corneille's
contribution to the remarkable opera of Psyché, 1671, inconsiderable. This
completes his dramatic work, which amounts to thirty pieces and part of
another. It should be added that, to all the plays up to La Toison d'Or, he
subjoined in a collected edition very remarkable criticisms of them, which
he calls Examens.
The characteristics of this great dramatist are perhaps more uniform than
those of any writer of equal rank, and there can be little doubt that this
uniformity, which, considering the great bulk of his work, amounts almost
to monotony, was the cause of his gradual loss of popularity. We shall not
here notice the points which he has in common with Racine, as a writer of
the French classical drama. These will come in more suitably when Racine
himself has been dealt with. In Corneille the academic criticism of the time
found the fault that he rather excited admiration than pity and terror, and it
held that admiration was 'not a tragic passion.' The criticism was clumsy,
and to a great extent futile, but it has a certain basis of truth. It is
comparatively rare for Corneille to attempt, after his earliest period, to
interest his hearers or readers in the fortunes of his characters. It is rather in
the way that they bear their fortunes, and particularly in a kind of haughty
disdain for fortune itself, that these characters impress us. Sometimes, as in
the Cléopâtre of Rodogune, this masterful temper is engaged on the side of
evil, more frequently it is combined with amiable or at least respectable
year older than these respective dates), show what political economists
might call the stationary state of the poet's genius. The first two plays
produced after the interval, Œdipe, 1659, and La Toison d'Or, 1660, both
show the benefit of the rest the poet had had, together with certain signs of
advancing years. La Toison d'Or, like Andromède, includes a great deal of
spectacle, and is rather an elaborate masque interspersed with regular
dramatic scenes than a tragedy. It is one of the best specimens of the kind.
In Sertorius, 1662, there are occasional passages of much grandeur and
beauty, but Sophonisbe, 1663, is hardly a success, nor is Othon, 1664.
Agésilas, 1666, and Attila, 1667, have been (the latter unfairly) damned by
a quatrain of Boileau's. But Tite et Bérénice, 1670, must be acknowledged
to be inferior to the play of Racine in rivalry with which it was produced.
Pulchérie, 1672, and Suréna, 1674, are last-fruits off an old tree, which,
especially the second, are not unworthy of it. Nor was Corneille's
contribution to the remarkable opera of Psyché, 1671, inconsiderable. This
completes his dramatic work, which amounts to thirty pieces and part of
another. It should be added that, to all the plays up to La Toison d'Or, he
subjoined in a collected edition very remarkable criticisms of them, which
he calls Examens.
The characteristics of this great dramatist are perhaps more uniform than
those of any writer of equal rank, and there can be little doubt that this
uniformity, which, considering the great bulk of his work, amounts almost
to monotony, was the cause of his gradual loss of popularity. We shall not
here notice the points which he has in common with Racine, as a writer of
the French classical drama. These will come in more suitably when Racine
himself has been dealt with. In Corneille the academic criticism of the time
found the fault that he rather excited admiration than pity and terror, and it
held that admiration was 'not a tragic passion.' The criticism was clumsy,
and to a great extent futile, but it has a certain basis of truth. It is
comparatively rare for Corneille to attempt, after his earliest period, to
interest his hearers or readers in the fortunes of his characters. It is rather in
the way that they bear their fortunes, and particularly in a kind of haughty
disdain for fortune itself, that these characters impress us. Sometimes, as in
the Cléopâtre of Rodogune, this masterful temper is engaged on the side of
evil, more frequently it is combined with amiable or at least respectable
Page 326
characteristics. But there is always something 'remote and afar' about it, and
the application by La Bruyère of the famous comparison between the Greek
tragedians is in the main strictly accurate. It follows that Corneille's demand
upon his hearers or readers is a somewhat severe one, and one with which
many men are neither disposed nor able to comply. It was a greater
misfortune for him than for almost any one else that the French and not the
English drama was the Sparta which it fell to his lot to decorate. His powers
were not in reality limited. The Menteur shows an excellent comic faculty,
and the strokes of irony in his serious plays have more of true humour in
them than appears in almost any other French dramatist. Had the licence of
the English stage been his, he would probably have been able to impart a
greater interest to his plays than they already possess, without sacrificing
his peculiar faculty of sublime moral portraiture, and certainly without
losing the credit of the magnificent single lines and isolated passages which
abound in his work. The friendly criticism of Molière on these sudden
flashes is well known. 'My friend Corneille,' he said, 'has a familiar who
comes now and then and whispers in his ear the finest verses in the world,
but sometimes the familiar deserts him, and then he writes no better than
anybody else.' The most fertile familiar cannot suggest fifty or sixty
thousand of these finest lines in the world; and the consequence is that,
what with the lack of central interest which follows from Corneille's own
plan, with the absence of subsidiary interest and relief which is inevitable in
the French classical model, and with the drawbacks of his somewhat
declamatory style, there are long passages, sometimes whole scenes and
acts, if not whole plays of his, which are but dreary reading, and could
hardly be, even with the most appreciative and creative acting, other than
dreary to witness. It was Corneille's fault that, while bowing himself to the
yoke of the Senecan drama, he did not perceive or would not accept the fact
that there is practically but one situation, by the working out of which that
drama can be made tolerable to modern audiences. This situation is love-
making, which in real life necessitates a vast deal of talking, and about
which, even on the stage, a vast deal of talking is admissible. The characters
of the French classic or heroic play are practically allowed to do nothing but
talk, and the author who would make them interesting must submit himself
to his fate. Corneille would not submit wholly and cheerfully, though he
has, as might be expected, been obliged to introduce love-making into most
of his plays.
the application by La Bruyère of the famous comparison between the Greek
tragedians is in the main strictly accurate. It follows that Corneille's demand
upon his hearers or readers is a somewhat severe one, and one with which
many men are neither disposed nor able to comply. It was a greater
misfortune for him than for almost any one else that the French and not the
English drama was the Sparta which it fell to his lot to decorate. His powers
were not in reality limited. The Menteur shows an excellent comic faculty,
and the strokes of irony in his serious plays have more of true humour in
them than appears in almost any other French dramatist. Had the licence of
the English stage been his, he would probably have been able to impart a
greater interest to his plays than they already possess, without sacrificing
his peculiar faculty of sublime moral portraiture, and certainly without
losing the credit of the magnificent single lines and isolated passages which
abound in his work. The friendly criticism of Molière on these sudden
flashes is well known. 'My friend Corneille,' he said, 'has a familiar who
comes now and then and whispers in his ear the finest verses in the world,
but sometimes the familiar deserts him, and then he writes no better than
anybody else.' The most fertile familiar cannot suggest fifty or sixty
thousand of these finest lines in the world; and the consequence is that,
what with the lack of central interest which follows from Corneille's own
plan, with the absence of subsidiary interest and relief which is inevitable in
the French classical model, and with the drawbacks of his somewhat
declamatory style, there are long passages, sometimes whole scenes and
acts, if not whole plays of his, which are but dreary reading, and could
hardly be, even with the most appreciative and creative acting, other than
dreary to witness. It was Corneille's fault that, while bowing himself to the
yoke of the Senecan drama, he did not perceive or would not accept the fact
that there is practically but one situation, by the working out of which that
drama can be made tolerable to modern audiences. This situation is love-
making, which in real life necessitates a vast deal of talking, and about
which, even on the stage, a vast deal of talking is admissible. The characters
of the French classic or heroic play are practically allowed to do nothing but
talk, and the author who would make them interesting must submit himself
to his fate. Corneille would not submit wholly and cheerfully, though he
has, as might be expected, been obliged to introduce love-making into most
of his plays.
Page 327
To a modern reader the detached passages already referred to, and the
magnificent versification which is displayed in them, make up the real
charm of Corneille except in a very few plays, such as the Cid, Polyeucte,
Rodogune, and perhaps a few others. Du Bartas, D'Aubigné, and Regnier,
had indicated the capacities of the Alexandrine; Corneille demonstrated
them and illustrated them almost indefinitely. He did not indulge in the
pedantry of rimes difficiles, by which Racine attracted his hearers, nor was
his verse so uniformly smooth as that of his younger rival. But what it
lacked in polish and grace it more than made up in grandeur and dignity.
The best lines of Corneille, like those of D'Aubigné, of Rotrou, from whom,
comparatively stammering as was the teacher, Corneille perhaps learnt the
art, and of Victor Hugo, have a peculiar crash of sound which hardly any
other metre of any other language possesses. A slight touch of archaism (it
is very slight) which is to be discovered in his work assists its effect not a
little. The inveterate habit which exists in England of comparing all
dramatists with Shakespeare has been prejudicial to the fame of Corneille
with us. But he is certainly the greatest tragic dramatist of France on the
classical model, and as a fashioner of dramatic verse of a truly poetical kind
he has at his best few equals in the literature of Europe.
The character, career, and work of Racine were
curiously different from those of Corneille. Jean Racine.
Racine[238] was more than thirty years younger than his
greater rival, having been born at La Ferté Milon, at no great distance from
Soissons, in 1639. His father held an official position at this place, but he
died, as Racine's mother had previously died, in the boy's infancy, leaving
him without any fortune. His grandparents, however, were alive, and able to
take care of him, and they, with other relatives, willingly undertook the
task. He was well educated, going to school at Beauvais, from 1650
(probably) to 1655, and then spending three years under the care of the
celebrated Port Royalists, where he made considerable progress. A year at
the Collège d'Harcourt, where he should have studied law, completed his
regular education; but he was always studious, and had on the whole greater
advantages of culture than most men of letters of his time and country. For
some years he led a somewhat undecided life. His relations did their best to
obtain a benefice for him, and in other ways endeavoured to put him in the
way of a professional livelihood; but ill-luck and probably disinclination on
magnificent versification which is displayed in them, make up the real
charm of Corneille except in a very few plays, such as the Cid, Polyeucte,
Rodogune, and perhaps a few others. Du Bartas, D'Aubigné, and Regnier,
had indicated the capacities of the Alexandrine; Corneille demonstrated
them and illustrated them almost indefinitely. He did not indulge in the
pedantry of rimes difficiles, by which Racine attracted his hearers, nor was
his verse so uniformly smooth as that of his younger rival. But what it
lacked in polish and grace it more than made up in grandeur and dignity.
The best lines of Corneille, like those of D'Aubigné, of Rotrou, from whom,
comparatively stammering as was the teacher, Corneille perhaps learnt the
art, and of Victor Hugo, have a peculiar crash of sound which hardly any
other metre of any other language possesses. A slight touch of archaism (it
is very slight) which is to be discovered in his work assists its effect not a
little. The inveterate habit which exists in England of comparing all
dramatists with Shakespeare has been prejudicial to the fame of Corneille
with us. But he is certainly the greatest tragic dramatist of France on the
classical model, and as a fashioner of dramatic verse of a truly poetical kind
he has at his best few equals in the literature of Europe.
The character, career, and work of Racine were
curiously different from those of Corneille. Jean Racine.
Racine[238] was more than thirty years younger than his
greater rival, having been born at La Ferté Milon, at no great distance from
Soissons, in 1639. His father held an official position at this place, but he
died, as Racine's mother had previously died, in the boy's infancy, leaving
him without any fortune. His grandparents, however, were alive, and able to
take care of him, and they, with other relatives, willingly undertook the
task. He was well educated, going to school at Beauvais, from 1650
(probably) to 1655, and then spending three years under the care of the
celebrated Port Royalists, where he made considerable progress. A year at
the Collège d'Harcourt, where he should have studied law, completed his
regular education; but he was always studious, and had on the whole greater
advantages of culture than most men of letters of his time and country. For
some years he led a somewhat undecided life. His relations did their best to
obtain a benefice for him, and in other ways endeavoured to put him in the
way of a professional livelihood; but ill-luck and probably disinclination on
Page 328
his part stood in the way. He wrote at least two plays at a comparatively
early age which were refused, and are not known to exist, and he produced
divers pieces of miscellaneous poetry, especially the 'Nymphe de la Seine,'
which brought him to the notice of Chapelain. At last, in 1664, he obtained
a pension of six hundred livres for an ode on the king's recovery from
sickness, and the same year La Thébaïde was accepted and produced. For
the next thirteen years plays followed in rapid, but not too rapid succession.
Racine was the favourite of the king, and consequently of all those who had
no taste of their own, as well as of some who had, though the best critics
inclined to Corneille, between whom and Racine rivalry was industriously
fostered. The somewhat indecent antagonism which Racine had shown
towards a man who had won renown ten years before his own birth was
justly punished in his own temporary eclipse by the almost worthless
Pradon. He withdrew disgusted from the stage in 1677. About the same
time he married, was made historiographer to the king, and became more or
less fervently devout. Years afterwards, at the request of Madame de
Maintenon, he wrote for her school-girls at St. Cyr the dramatic sketch of
Esther, and soon afterwards the complete tragedy of Athalie, the greatest of
his works. Then he relapsed into silence as far as dramatic utterance was
concerned. He died in 1699. Thus he presented the singular spectacle, only
paralleled by our own Congreve, and that not exactly, of a short period of
consummate activity followed by almost complete inaction. That this
inaction was not due to exhaustion of genius was abundantly shown by
Esther and Athalie. But Racine was of a peculiar and in many ways an
unamiable temper. He was very jealous of his reputation, acutely sensitive
to criticism, and envious to the last degree of any public approbation
bestowed on others. Having made his fame, he seems to have preferred, in
the language of the French gaming table, faire Charlemagne, and to run no
further risks. He had, however, worse failings than any yet mentioned.
Molière gave him valuable assistance, and he repaid it with ingratitude.
With hardly a shadow of provocation he attacked in a tone of the utmost
acrimony the Port Royal fathers, to whom he was under deep obligations.
The charge of hypocrisy in religious matters which has been brought
against him is probably gratuitous, and, in any case, does not concern us
here. But his character in his literary relations is far from being a pleasant
one.
early age which were refused, and are not known to exist, and he produced
divers pieces of miscellaneous poetry, especially the 'Nymphe de la Seine,'
which brought him to the notice of Chapelain. At last, in 1664, he obtained
a pension of six hundred livres for an ode on the king's recovery from
sickness, and the same year La Thébaïde was accepted and produced. For
the next thirteen years plays followed in rapid, but not too rapid succession.
Racine was the favourite of the king, and consequently of all those who had
no taste of their own, as well as of some who had, though the best critics
inclined to Corneille, between whom and Racine rivalry was industriously
fostered. The somewhat indecent antagonism which Racine had shown
towards a man who had won renown ten years before his own birth was
justly punished in his own temporary eclipse by the almost worthless
Pradon. He withdrew disgusted from the stage in 1677. About the same
time he married, was made historiographer to the king, and became more or
less fervently devout. Years afterwards, at the request of Madame de
Maintenon, he wrote for her school-girls at St. Cyr the dramatic sketch of
Esther, and soon afterwards the complete tragedy of Athalie, the greatest of
his works. Then he relapsed into silence as far as dramatic utterance was
concerned. He died in 1699. Thus he presented the singular spectacle, only
paralleled by our own Congreve, and that not exactly, of a short period of
consummate activity followed by almost complete inaction. That this
inaction was not due to exhaustion of genius was abundantly shown by
Esther and Athalie. But Racine was of a peculiar and in many ways an
unamiable temper. He was very jealous of his reputation, acutely sensitive
to criticism, and envious to the last degree of any public approbation
bestowed on others. Having made his fame, he seems to have preferred, in
the language of the French gaming table, faire Charlemagne, and to run no
further risks. He had, however, worse failings than any yet mentioned.
Molière gave him valuable assistance, and he repaid it with ingratitude.
With hardly a shadow of provocation he attacked in a tone of the utmost
acrimony the Port Royal fathers, to whom he was under deep obligations.
The charge of hypocrisy in religious matters which has been brought
against him is probably gratuitous, and, in any case, does not concern us
here. But his character in his literary relations is far from being a pleasant
one.
Page 329
The following is a list of Racine's theatrical pieces. La Thébaïde, 1664,
indicates with sufficient clearness the lines upon which all Racine's plays,
save the two last, were to be constructed—a minute adherence to the rules,
very careful versification and subordination of almost all other interests to
stately gallantry—but it is altogether inferior to its successors. In Alexandre
le Grand, 1665, the characteristics are accentuated, and what Corneille
disdainfully called—
Le commerce rampant de soupirs et de flammes
is more than ever prominent. In Andromaque, 1667, an immense advance is
perceptible. The characters become personally interesting (Hermione is
perhaps more attractive than any of Corneille's women), and a power of
passionate invective not unworthy to be compared with Corneille's, but with
more of a feminine character about it, appears. This was followed by
Racine's only attempt in the comic sock, Les Plaideurs, 1668, a most
charming trifle which has had, and has deserved, more genuine and lasting
popularity than any of his tragedies. He returned to tragedy, and rapidly
showed the defects of the stereotyped mannerism inevitably imposed on
him by his plan. Britannicus, 1669, Bérénice, 1670, Bajazet, 1672, and
Mithridate, 1673, with all their perfection of technique, announce, as
clearly as anything can well do, the fatal monotony into which French
tragedy had once more fallen, and in which it was to continue for a century
and a half. Iphigénie, 1674, has much more liveliness and variety, the deep
pathos and terror of the situation making even Racine's interminable love
casuistry natural and interesting. But Phèdre, 1677, the last of the series, is
unquestionably the most remarkable of Racine's regular tragedies. By it the
style must stand or fall, and a reader need hardly go farther to appreciate it.
Britannicus was indeed preferred by eighteenth-century judges; but for
excellence of construction, artful beauty of verse, skilful use of the limited
means of appeal at the command of the dramatist, no play can surpass
Phèdre; and if it still is found wanting, as it undoubtedly is by the vast
majority of critics (including nowadays a powerful minority even among
Frenchmen themselves), the fault lies rather in the style than in the author,
or at least in the author for adopting the style. Esther, 1689, and Athalie,
1691, on the other hand, while retaining a certain similarity of form and
machinery, are radically different from the other plays. It is evident that
indicates with sufficient clearness the lines upon which all Racine's plays,
save the two last, were to be constructed—a minute adherence to the rules,
very careful versification and subordination of almost all other interests to
stately gallantry—but it is altogether inferior to its successors. In Alexandre
le Grand, 1665, the characteristics are accentuated, and what Corneille
disdainfully called—
Le commerce rampant de soupirs et de flammes
is more than ever prominent. In Andromaque, 1667, an immense advance is
perceptible. The characters become personally interesting (Hermione is
perhaps more attractive than any of Corneille's women), and a power of
passionate invective not unworthy to be compared with Corneille's, but with
more of a feminine character about it, appears. This was followed by
Racine's only attempt in the comic sock, Les Plaideurs, 1668, a most
charming trifle which has had, and has deserved, more genuine and lasting
popularity than any of his tragedies. He returned to tragedy, and rapidly
showed the defects of the stereotyped mannerism inevitably imposed on
him by his plan. Britannicus, 1669, Bérénice, 1670, Bajazet, 1672, and
Mithridate, 1673, with all their perfection of technique, announce, as
clearly as anything can well do, the fatal monotony into which French
tragedy had once more fallen, and in which it was to continue for a century
and a half. Iphigénie, 1674, has much more liveliness and variety, the deep
pathos and terror of the situation making even Racine's interminable love
casuistry natural and interesting. But Phèdre, 1677, the last of the series, is
unquestionably the most remarkable of Racine's regular tragedies. By it the
style must stand or fall, and a reader need hardly go farther to appreciate it.
Britannicus was indeed preferred by eighteenth-century judges; but for
excellence of construction, artful beauty of verse, skilful use of the limited
means of appeal at the command of the dramatist, no play can surpass
Phèdre; and if it still is found wanting, as it undoubtedly is by the vast
majority of critics (including nowadays a powerful minority even among
Frenchmen themselves), the fault lies rather in the style than in the author,
or at least in the author for adopting the style. Esther, 1689, and Athalie,
1691, on the other hand, while retaining a certain similarity of form and
machinery, are radically different from the other plays. It is evident that
Page 330
Racine before writing them had attentively studied the sixteenth-century
drama, to the strict form of which with its choruses he returns, and from
which he borrows, in some cases directly, the Aman of Montchrestien
having clearly suggested passages in Esther. His great poetical faculty has
freer play; he escapes the monotonous 'soupirs et flammes' altogether, and
the result is in Esther on the whole, in Athalie wholly, admirable.
Racine's peculiarities as a dramatist have been already indicated, but may
now be more fully described. He was emphatically one of those writers—
Virgil and Pope are the other chief notable representatives of the class—
who, with an incapacity for the finest original strokes of poetry, have an
almost unlimited capacity for writing from models, for improving the
technical execution of their poems, and for adjusting the conception of their
pieces to their powers of rendering. These writers are always impossible
without forerunners, and not usually possible without critics of the
pedagogic kind. Racine was extraordinarily fortunate in his forerunner, and
still more fortunate in his critic. He was able to start with all the advantages
which thirty years of work on the part of his rival, Corneille, gave him; and
he had for his trainer, Boileau, one of the most capable, if one of the most
limited and prejudiced, of literary schoolmasters. Boileau was no respecter
of persons, and arrogant as he was, he was rather an admirer of Racine than
of Corneille; yet, according to a well-known story, he distinguished
between the two by saying that Corneille was a great poet, and Racine a
very clever man, to whom he himself had taught the knack of easy
versification with elaborate rhyming. It is indeed in his versification that
both the strength and the weakness of Racine lie, and in this respect he is an
exact analogue to the poets mentioned above. He treated the Alexandrine of
Corneille exactly as Pope treated the decasyllable of Dryden, and as Virgil
treated the hexameter of Lucretius. In his hands it acquired smoothness,
softness, polish, and mechanical perfections of many kinds, only to suffer at
the same time a compensatory monotony which, when the honied sweetness
of it began to cloy, was soon recognised as a terrible drawback. The
extraordinary estimation in which Racine is held by those who abide by the
classical tradition in France depends very mainly on the melody of his
versification and rhymes, but it does not depend wholly upon this. There
must also be taken into account the perfection of workmanship with which
drama, to the strict form of which with its choruses he returns, and from
which he borrows, in some cases directly, the Aman of Montchrestien
having clearly suggested passages in Esther. His great poetical faculty has
freer play; he escapes the monotonous 'soupirs et flammes' altogether, and
the result is in Esther on the whole, in Athalie wholly, admirable.
Racine's peculiarities as a dramatist have been already indicated, but may
now be more fully described. He was emphatically one of those writers—
Virgil and Pope are the other chief notable representatives of the class—
who, with an incapacity for the finest original strokes of poetry, have an
almost unlimited capacity for writing from models, for improving the
technical execution of their poems, and for adjusting the conception of their
pieces to their powers of rendering. These writers are always impossible
without forerunners, and not usually possible without critics of the
pedagogic kind. Racine was extraordinarily fortunate in his forerunner, and
still more fortunate in his critic. He was able to start with all the advantages
which thirty years of work on the part of his rival, Corneille, gave him; and
he had for his trainer, Boileau, one of the most capable, if one of the most
limited and prejudiced, of literary schoolmasters. Boileau was no respecter
of persons, and arrogant as he was, he was rather an admirer of Racine than
of Corneille; yet, according to a well-known story, he distinguished
between the two by saying that Corneille was a great poet, and Racine a
very clever man, to whom he himself had taught the knack of easy
versification with elaborate rhyming. It is indeed in his versification that
both the strength and the weakness of Racine lie, and in this respect he is an
exact analogue to the poets mentioned above. He treated the Alexandrine of
Corneille exactly as Pope treated the decasyllable of Dryden, and as Virgil
treated the hexameter of Lucretius. In his hands it acquired smoothness,
softness, polish, and mechanical perfections of many kinds, only to suffer at
the same time a compensatory monotony which, when the honied sweetness
of it began to cloy, was soon recognised as a terrible drawback. The
extraordinary estimation in which Racine is held by those who abide by the
classical tradition in France depends very mainly on the melody of his
versification and rhymes, but it does not depend wholly upon this. There
must also be taken into account the perfection of workmanship with which
Page 331
he carries out the idea of the drama which he practised. What that ideal was
must therefore be considered.
It must be remembered that the object of the French drama of Racine's time
was not in the least to hold the mirror up to nature. The model which, owing
to admiration of the classics, the Pléiade had almost at haphazard followed,
rendered such an object simply unattainable. The so-called irregularity of
the English stage, which used to fill French critics with alternate wonder
and disgust, is nothing but the result of an unflinching adherence to this
standard. It is impossible to reproduce the subtilitas naturae in its most
subtle example—the character of man—without introducing a large
diversity of circumstance and action. That diversity in its turn cannot be
produced without a great multiplication of characters, a duplication or
triplication of plot, and a complete disregard of pre-established 'common
form.' Now this 'common form' was the essence of French tragedy.
Following, or thinking that they followed, the ancients, French dramatists
and dramatic critics adopted certain fixed rules according to which a poet
had to write just as a whist-player has to play the game. There was to be no
action on the stage, or next to none, the interest of the play was to be rigidly
reduced to a central situation, subsidiary characters were to be avoided as
far as possible, the only means afforded to the personages of explaining
themselves was by dialogue with confidantes—the curse of the French
stage—and the only way of informing the audience of the progress of the
action was by messengers. Corneille accepted these limitations partially,
and without too much good-will, but he evaded the difficulty by
emphasising the moral lesson. The ethical standard of his plays is perhaps
higher on the whole than that of any great dramatist, and the wonderful
bursts of poetry which he could command served to sugar the pill. But
Racine was not a man of high moral character, and he was a man of great
shrewdness and discernment. He evidently distrusted the willingness of
audiences perpetually to admire moral grandeur, whether he did or did not
hold that admiration was not a tragic passion. Probably he would have put it
that it was not a passion that would draw. Love-making, on the contrary,
would draw, and love-making accordingly is the staple of all his plays. But
the defect which has attended all French literature, which was aggravated
enormously by this style of drama, and which is noticeable even in his
greater contemporaries, Corneille and Molière, manifested itself in his work
must therefore be considered.
It must be remembered that the object of the French drama of Racine's time
was not in the least to hold the mirror up to nature. The model which, owing
to admiration of the classics, the Pléiade had almost at haphazard followed,
rendered such an object simply unattainable. The so-called irregularity of
the English stage, which used to fill French critics with alternate wonder
and disgust, is nothing but the result of an unflinching adherence to this
standard. It is impossible to reproduce the subtilitas naturae in its most
subtle example—the character of man—without introducing a large
diversity of circumstance and action. That diversity in its turn cannot be
produced without a great multiplication of characters, a duplication or
triplication of plot, and a complete disregard of pre-established 'common
form.' Now this 'common form' was the essence of French tragedy.
Following, or thinking that they followed, the ancients, French dramatists
and dramatic critics adopted certain fixed rules according to which a poet
had to write just as a whist-player has to play the game. There was to be no
action on the stage, or next to none, the interest of the play was to be rigidly
reduced to a central situation, subsidiary characters were to be avoided as
far as possible, the only means afforded to the personages of explaining
themselves was by dialogue with confidantes—the curse of the French
stage—and the only way of informing the audience of the progress of the
action was by messengers. Corneille accepted these limitations partially,
and without too much good-will, but he evaded the difficulty by
emphasising the moral lesson. The ethical standard of his plays is perhaps
higher on the whole than that of any great dramatist, and the wonderful
bursts of poetry which he could command served to sugar the pill. But
Racine was not a man of high moral character, and he was a man of great
shrewdness and discernment. He evidently distrusted the willingness of
audiences perpetually to admire moral grandeur, whether he did or did not
hold that admiration was not a tragic passion. Probably he would have put it
that it was not a passion that would draw. Love-making, on the contrary,
would draw, and love-making accordingly is the staple of all his plays. But
the defect which has attended all French literature, which was aggravated
enormously by this style of drama, and which is noticeable even in his
greater contemporaries, Corneille and Molière, manifested itself in his work
Page 332
almost inevitably. If there is one fault to be found with the creations of
French literary art, it is that they run too much into types. It has been well
said that the duty of art is to give the universal in the particular. But to do
this exactly is difficult. It is the fault of English and of German literature to
give the particular without a sufficient tincture of the universal, to lose
themselves in mere 'humours.' It is the fault of French literature to give the
type only without differentiation. An ill-natured critic constantly feels
inclined to alter the lists of Racine's dramatis personae, and instead of the
proper names to substitute 'a lover,' 'a mother,' 'a tyrant,' and so forth. So
great an artist and so careful a worker as Racine could not, of course,
escape giving some individuality to his creations. Hermione, Phèdre,
Achille, Bérénice, Athalie, are all individual enough of their class. But the
class is the class of types rather than of individuals. After long debate this
difference has been admitted by most reasonable French critics, and they
now confine themselves to the argument that the two processes, the
illustration of the universal by means of the particular, and the indication of
the particular by means of the universal, are processes equally legitimate
and equally important. The difficulty remains that, by common consent of
mankind—Frenchmen not excluded—Hamlet, Othello, Falstaff, Rosalind,
are fictitious persons far more interesting to their fellow-creatures who are
not fictitious than any personages of the French stage. There is, moreover, a
simple test which can be applied. No one can doubt that, if Shakespeare had
chosen to adopt the style, and had accepted the censorship of a Boileau, he
could easily have written Phèdre. It would be a bold man who should say
that Racine could, with altered circumstances but unaltered powers, have
written Othello.
The style of tragedy which was likely to be successful in
France had been pointed out so clearly by Corneille and Minor Tragedians.
by Racine that it could not fail to find imitators. As
usual, the weakness of the style was more fully manifested by these
imitators than its strength. The best of them was Thomas Corneille, the
younger brother of Pierre. A much more facile versifier than his brother, he
produced a large number of plays, of which Camma, Laodice, Ariane, Le
Comte d'Essex, have considerable merit. Thomas Corneille succeeded his
brother in the Academy, and died at a great old age. He was an active
journalist and miscellaneous writer as well as a dramatist, and his principal
French literary art, it is that they run too much into types. It has been well
said that the duty of art is to give the universal in the particular. But to do
this exactly is difficult. It is the fault of English and of German literature to
give the particular without a sufficient tincture of the universal, to lose
themselves in mere 'humours.' It is the fault of French literature to give the
type only without differentiation. An ill-natured critic constantly feels
inclined to alter the lists of Racine's dramatis personae, and instead of the
proper names to substitute 'a lover,' 'a mother,' 'a tyrant,' and so forth. So
great an artist and so careful a worker as Racine could not, of course,
escape giving some individuality to his creations. Hermione, Phèdre,
Achille, Bérénice, Athalie, are all individual enough of their class. But the
class is the class of types rather than of individuals. After long debate this
difference has been admitted by most reasonable French critics, and they
now confine themselves to the argument that the two processes, the
illustration of the universal by means of the particular, and the indication of
the particular by means of the universal, are processes equally legitimate
and equally important. The difficulty remains that, by common consent of
mankind—Frenchmen not excluded—Hamlet, Othello, Falstaff, Rosalind,
are fictitious persons far more interesting to their fellow-creatures who are
not fictitious than any personages of the French stage. There is, moreover, a
simple test which can be applied. No one can doubt that, if Shakespeare had
chosen to adopt the style, and had accepted the censorship of a Boileau, he
could easily have written Phèdre. It would be a bold man who should say
that Racine could, with altered circumstances but unaltered powers, have
written Othello.
The style of tragedy which was likely to be successful in
France had been pointed out so clearly by Corneille and Minor Tragedians.
by Racine that it could not fail to find imitators. As
usual, the weakness of the style was more fully manifested by these
imitators than its strength. The best of them was Thomas Corneille, the
younger brother of Pierre. A much more facile versifier than his brother, he
produced a large number of plays, of which Camma, Laodice, Ariane, Le
Comte d'Essex, have considerable merit. Thomas Corneille succeeded his
brother in the Academy, and died at a great old age. He was an active
journalist and miscellaneous writer as well as a dramatist, and his principal
Page 333
misfortune was that he had a brother of greater genius than himself. Pradon,
whose success against Phèdre so bitterly annoyed Racine, was a dramatist
of the third, or even the fourth class, though he enjoyed some temporary
popularity. Campistron, a follower rather than a rival of Racine, was a better
writer than Pradon, but pushed to an extreme the softness and almost
effeminacy of subject and treatment which made Corneille contemptuously
speak of his younger rival and his party as 'les doucereux.' Quinault, before
writing good operas and fair comedies, wrote bad tragedies. The only other
authors of the day worth mentioning are Duché and Lafosse. Lafosse is a
man of one play, though as a matter of fact he wrote four. In Manlius he
gave Roman names and setting to the plot of Otway's Venice Preserved, and
achieved a decided success.
The history of French comedy is remarkably different
from that of French tragedy. In the latter case a foreign Development of
model was followed almost slavishly; in the former the Comedy.
actual possessions of the language received grafts of foreign importation,
and the result was one of the capital productions of European literature.
Whether the popularity of the indigenous farce of itself saved France from
falling into the same false groove with Italy it is not easy to say, but it is
certain that at the time of the Renaissance there was some danger. At first it
seemed as if Terence was to serve as a model for comedy just as Seneca
served as a model for tragedy. The first comedy, Eugène, is strongly
Terentian, though even here a greater freedom of movement, a stronger
infusion of local colour is observable than in Didon or Cléopâtre. So, too,
when the Italian Larivey adapted his remarkable comedies the vernacular
savour became still stronger. Yet it was very long before genuine comedy
was produced in France. The farces continued, and kinds of dramatic
entertainment, lower even than the farce, such as those which survive in the
work of the merry-andrew Tabarin[239], were relished. The Spanish comedy,
with its strong spice of tragi-comedy, was imitated to a considerable extent.
A few examples of the Commedia erudita, or Terentian play, continued to
be produced at intervals; and the stock personages of the Commedia
dell'arte, Harlequin, Scaramouch, etc., at one time invaded France, and,
under cover of the comic opera and the Foire pieces, made something of a
lodgment. In the earlier years of the seventeenth century, moreover, a
considerable number of fantastic experiments were tried. We have a
whose success against Phèdre so bitterly annoyed Racine, was a dramatist
of the third, or even the fourth class, though he enjoyed some temporary
popularity. Campistron, a follower rather than a rival of Racine, was a better
writer than Pradon, but pushed to an extreme the softness and almost
effeminacy of subject and treatment which made Corneille contemptuously
speak of his younger rival and his party as 'les doucereux.' Quinault, before
writing good operas and fair comedies, wrote bad tragedies. The only other
authors of the day worth mentioning are Duché and Lafosse. Lafosse is a
man of one play, though as a matter of fact he wrote four. In Manlius he
gave Roman names and setting to the plot of Otway's Venice Preserved, and
achieved a decided success.
The history of French comedy is remarkably different
from that of French tragedy. In the latter case a foreign Development of
model was followed almost slavishly; in the former the Comedy.
actual possessions of the language received grafts of foreign importation,
and the result was one of the capital productions of European literature.
Whether the popularity of the indigenous farce of itself saved France from
falling into the same false groove with Italy it is not easy to say, but it is
certain that at the time of the Renaissance there was some danger. At first it
seemed as if Terence was to serve as a model for comedy just as Seneca
served as a model for tragedy. The first comedy, Eugène, is strongly
Terentian, though even here a greater freedom of movement, a stronger
infusion of local colour is observable than in Didon or Cléopâtre. So, too,
when the Italian Larivey adapted his remarkable comedies the vernacular
savour became still stronger. Yet it was very long before genuine comedy
was produced in France. The farces continued, and kinds of dramatic
entertainment, lower even than the farce, such as those which survive in the
work of the merry-andrew Tabarin[239], were relished. The Spanish comedy,
with its strong spice of tragi-comedy, was imitated to a considerable extent.
A few examples of the Commedia erudita, or Terentian play, continued to
be produced at intervals; and the stock personages of the Commedia
dell'arte, Harlequin, Scaramouch, etc., at one time invaded France, and,
under cover of the comic opera and the Foire pieces, made something of a
lodgment. In the earlier years of the seventeenth century, moreover, a
considerable number of fantastic experiments were tried. We have a
Page 334
Comédie des Proverbes, in which the action is altogether subordinate to the
introduction of the greatest possible number of popular sayings; a Comédie
des Chansons spun out of a vast and precious collection of popular songs; a
Comédie des Comédies, which is a cento made up of extracts from Balzac,
the moralist and letter-writer; a Comédie des Comédiens, in which the
famous actors of the day are brought on the stage in their own persons[240],
etc., etc. While French comedy was thus endeavouring to find its way in all
manner of tentative and sometimes grotesque experiments, dramatists of
talent occasionally struck, as if by accident, into some of the side paths of
that way, and directed their successors into the way itself. The early
comedies of Corneille have been spoken of; despite the improbability of
their Spanish plots, they show a distinct feeling after real excellence. The
eccentric Cyrano de Bergerac, especially in his Pédant Joué, furnished
Molière with hints, and displayed considerable comic power. Scarron, a not
dissimilar person, whose Roman Comique shows the interest he felt in the
theatre, also wrote comedies, the chief of which were extremely popular,
the character of Jodelet in the play of the same name (1645) becoming for
the time a stock one both in name and type. Scarron's other chief pieces
were Don Japhet d'Arménie, L'Héritier ridicule, La Précaution inutile. It
was in the Menteur of Corneille that Molière himself considered that true
comedy had been first reached, and it was this play which set him on the
track. But French comedy of the seventeenth century, before Molière, is one
of the subjects which have hardly any but a historical and antiquarian
interest. Although far less artificial than contemporary tragedy, it is inferior
as literature. It was attempted by writers of less power, and it is disfigured
by too frequent coarseness of language and incident. It was on the whole
the lowest of literary styles during the first half of the century. With Molière
it became at one bound the highest.
Jean Baptiste Poquelin[241], afterwards called Molière,
was born at Paris, probably in January 1622, in the Rue Molière.
St. Honoré. The Poquelin family seem to have come
from Beauvais. Some hypotheses as to a Scotch origin have been disproved.
Molière's father was an upholsterer, holding an appointment in the royal
household, and of some wealth and position. Molière himself had every
advantage of education, being at school at the famous Jesuit Collége de
Clermont, and afterwards studying philosophy (under Gassendi) and law.
introduction of the greatest possible number of popular sayings; a Comédie
des Chansons spun out of a vast and precious collection of popular songs; a
Comédie des Comédies, which is a cento made up of extracts from Balzac,
the moralist and letter-writer; a Comédie des Comédiens, in which the
famous actors of the day are brought on the stage in their own persons[240],
etc., etc. While French comedy was thus endeavouring to find its way in all
manner of tentative and sometimes grotesque experiments, dramatists of
talent occasionally struck, as if by accident, into some of the side paths of
that way, and directed their successors into the way itself. The early
comedies of Corneille have been spoken of; despite the improbability of
their Spanish plots, they show a distinct feeling after real excellence. The
eccentric Cyrano de Bergerac, especially in his Pédant Joué, furnished
Molière with hints, and displayed considerable comic power. Scarron, a not
dissimilar person, whose Roman Comique shows the interest he felt in the
theatre, also wrote comedies, the chief of which were extremely popular,
the character of Jodelet in the play of the same name (1645) becoming for
the time a stock one both in name and type. Scarron's other chief pieces
were Don Japhet d'Arménie, L'Héritier ridicule, La Précaution inutile. It
was in the Menteur of Corneille that Molière himself considered that true
comedy had been first reached, and it was this play which set him on the
track. But French comedy of the seventeenth century, before Molière, is one
of the subjects which have hardly any but a historical and antiquarian
interest. Although far less artificial than contemporary tragedy, it is inferior
as literature. It was attempted by writers of less power, and it is disfigured
by too frequent coarseness of language and incident. It was on the whole
the lowest of literary styles during the first half of the century. With Molière
it became at one bound the highest.
Jean Baptiste Poquelin[241], afterwards called Molière,
was born at Paris, probably in January 1622, in the Rue Molière.
St. Honoré. The Poquelin family seem to have come
from Beauvais. Some hypotheses as to a Scotch origin have been disproved.
Molière's father was an upholsterer, holding an appointment in the royal
household, and of some wealth and position. Molière himself had every
advantage of education, being at school at the famous Jesuit Collége de
Clermont, and afterwards studying philosophy (under Gassendi) and law.
Page 335
He was, according to some accounts, actually called to the bar. At his
majority he seems to have received a considerable share of his mother's
fortune, and thus to have become independent. He joined some other young
men of fair position in establishing a theatrical company called L'Illustre
Théâtre, which, however, failed with heavy loss to him, notwithstanding the
assistance of a family of professional actors and actresses, one of whom,
Madeleine Béjart, figures prominently in his private history. He was not to
be thus disgusted with his profession. In 1646 he set out on a strolling tour
through the provinces, and was absent from the capital for nearly thirteen
years. The notices of this interesting part of his career which exist are
unfortunately few, and, like many other points connected with it, have given
rise to much controversy. It is sufficient to say that he returned to Paris in
1658, and on the 24th of October performed with his troupe before the
court. He had long been a dramatist as well as an actor, and had written
besides minor pieces, most of which are lost, the Étourdi and the Dépit
Amoureux. Molière soon acquired the favour of the king, and the Précieuses
Ridicules, the first of his really great works, gained for him that of the
public. In 1662 he married Armande Béjart, the younger sister of Madeleine
—a marriage which brought him great unhappiness, though it was probably
not without influence on some of his finest work. The king was godfather to
the first child of the marriage, and Molière was a prosperous man. He
became valet-de-chambre to Louis, and it was some insolence of his noble
colleagues which is alleged, in a late and improbable though famous story,
to have occasioned the incident of his partaking of the king's en cas de nuit.
The highest point of his genius was shortly reached; Tartuffe, the Festin de
Pierre, and Le Misanthrope being the work of three successive years, 1664-
6. Tartuffe brought him some trouble because it was supposed to be
irreligious in tendency, or at least to satirise the profession of religion.
These, his three greatest comedies, were not all warmly received, and he
fell back upon lighter work, producing in rapid succession farce-comedies
for the public theatre, and divertissements of divers kinds for the court until
his death in February 1673, which happened almost on the stage.
The following is a complete list of Molière's work which has come down to
us. During his provincial sojourn he had written many slight pieces half-
way in kind between the Italian comedy and the native farce. Of these two
only survive, Le Médecin Volant and La Jalousie du Barbouillé. Both have
majority he seems to have received a considerable share of his mother's
fortune, and thus to have become independent. He joined some other young
men of fair position in establishing a theatrical company called L'Illustre
Théâtre, which, however, failed with heavy loss to him, notwithstanding the
assistance of a family of professional actors and actresses, one of whom,
Madeleine Béjart, figures prominently in his private history. He was not to
be thus disgusted with his profession. In 1646 he set out on a strolling tour
through the provinces, and was absent from the capital for nearly thirteen
years. The notices of this interesting part of his career which exist are
unfortunately few, and, like many other points connected with it, have given
rise to much controversy. It is sufficient to say that he returned to Paris in
1658, and on the 24th of October performed with his troupe before the
court. He had long been a dramatist as well as an actor, and had written
besides minor pieces, most of which are lost, the Étourdi and the Dépit
Amoureux. Molière soon acquired the favour of the king, and the Précieuses
Ridicules, the first of his really great works, gained for him that of the
public. In 1662 he married Armande Béjart, the younger sister of Madeleine
—a marriage which brought him great unhappiness, though it was probably
not without influence on some of his finest work. The king was godfather to
the first child of the marriage, and Molière was a prosperous man. He
became valet-de-chambre to Louis, and it was some insolence of his noble
colleagues which is alleged, in a late and improbable though famous story,
to have occasioned the incident of his partaking of the king's en cas de nuit.
The highest point of his genius was shortly reached; Tartuffe, the Festin de
Pierre, and Le Misanthrope being the work of three successive years, 1664-
6. Tartuffe brought him some trouble because it was supposed to be
irreligious in tendency, or at least to satirise the profession of religion.
These, his three greatest comedies, were not all warmly received, and he
fell back upon lighter work, producing in rapid succession farce-comedies
for the public theatre, and divertissements of divers kinds for the court until
his death in February 1673, which happened almost on the stage.
The following is a complete list of Molière's work which has come down to
us. During his provincial sojourn he had written many slight pieces half-
way in kind between the Italian comedy and the native farce. Of these two
only survive, Le Médecin Volant and La Jalousie du Barbouillé. Both have
Page 336
considerable merit, and Molière subsequently worked up their materials, as
no doubt he did those of the lost pieces. L'Étourdi, 1653, is a regular
comedy in five acts, still strongly Italian in style and somewhat improbable
in circumstances, but full of sparkle and lively action and dialogue. Le
Dépit Amoureux, 1654, is even better and more independent. Nothing had
yet been seen on the French stage so good as the quarrels and reconciliation
of the quartette of master, mistress, valet, and soubrette. But Les Précieuses
Ridicules, 1659, struck an entirely different note. The stage had been
employed often enough for personal satire, but it had not yet been made use
of for the actual delineation and criticism of contemporary manners as
manners and not as the foibles of individuals. The play was directed against
the affectations and unreal language of the members of literary coteries
which, with that of the Hôtel Rambouillet as the chief, had long been
prominent in French society. It has but a single act, but in its way it has
never been surpassed either as a piece of social satire or a piece of brilliant
dialogue illustrating ludicrous action and character. Sganarelle, 1660,
relapses into the commonplaces of farce, and has no moral or satirical
intention, but is amusing enough. Don Garcie de Navarre, 1661, may be
called Molière's only failure. He styles it a comédie héroïque, and it is in
fact a kind of anticipation of Racine's manner, but applied to less serious
subjects. The jealousy of the hero is, however, the only motive of the piece,
and its exhibition is rather tiresome than anything else. The play is
monotonous and unrelieved by action. The genius of the author reappeared
in its appropriate sphere in L'École des Maris (same date), where a
Terentian suggestion is adapted and carried out with the greatest skill. Then,
still in the same prolific year, Molière returned to social satire in Les
Fâcheux, an audacious lampoon on the forms of fashionable boredom
common among the courtiers of the time. In 1662 appeared L'École des
Femmes, which is generally considered the best of Molière's plays before
Tartuffe. A certain slyness about the character of Agnes is its only
drawback. This gave occasion to the brilliant and most amusing Critique de
L'École des Femmes, 1663. Here the author is once more the satirist of
contemporary society, which he introduces as criticising his own work.
L'Impromptu de Versailles (same date), according to a curious habit which
Molière did not originate, brings the author himself and his troupe in their
own names and persons before the spectator. Le Mariage Forcé, 1664, a
slight piece, was worked up into a ballet for the court. La Princesse d'Elide
no doubt he did those of the lost pieces. L'Étourdi, 1653, is a regular
comedy in five acts, still strongly Italian in style and somewhat improbable
in circumstances, but full of sparkle and lively action and dialogue. Le
Dépit Amoureux, 1654, is even better and more independent. Nothing had
yet been seen on the French stage so good as the quarrels and reconciliation
of the quartette of master, mistress, valet, and soubrette. But Les Précieuses
Ridicules, 1659, struck an entirely different note. The stage had been
employed often enough for personal satire, but it had not yet been made use
of for the actual delineation and criticism of contemporary manners as
manners and not as the foibles of individuals. The play was directed against
the affectations and unreal language of the members of literary coteries
which, with that of the Hôtel Rambouillet as the chief, had long been
prominent in French society. It has but a single act, but in its way it has
never been surpassed either as a piece of social satire or a piece of brilliant
dialogue illustrating ludicrous action and character. Sganarelle, 1660,
relapses into the commonplaces of farce, and has no moral or satirical
intention, but is amusing enough. Don Garcie de Navarre, 1661, may be
called Molière's only failure. He styles it a comédie héroïque, and it is in
fact a kind of anticipation of Racine's manner, but applied to less serious
subjects. The jealousy of the hero is, however, the only motive of the piece,
and its exhibition is rather tiresome than anything else. The play is
monotonous and unrelieved by action. The genius of the author reappeared
in its appropriate sphere in L'École des Maris (same date), where a
Terentian suggestion is adapted and carried out with the greatest skill. Then,
still in the same prolific year, Molière returned to social satire in Les
Fâcheux, an audacious lampoon on the forms of fashionable boredom
common among the courtiers of the time. In 1662 appeared L'École des
Femmes, which is generally considered the best of Molière's plays before
Tartuffe. A certain slyness about the character of Agnes is its only
drawback. This gave occasion to the brilliant and most amusing Critique de
L'École des Femmes, 1663. Here the author is once more the satirist of
contemporary society, which he introduces as criticising his own work.
L'Impromptu de Versailles (same date), according to a curious habit which
Molière did not originate, brings the author himself and his troupe in their
own names and persons before the spectator. Le Mariage Forcé, 1664, a
slight piece, was worked up into a ballet for the court. La Princesse d'Elide
Page 337
(same date) is Molière's most important court piece, or comédie-ballet, and,
though necessarily artificial, has great beauty. Next in point of composition
came The Hypocrite, that is to say Tartuffe, but the difficulties which this
met with made Le Festin de Pierre, 1665, appear first. This is a tragi-comic
working up of the Don Juan story, and is of a different class from any other
of Molière's comedies. It has been thought, but without sufficient ground,
that Molière here gave expression to a modified form of the freethinking
which was so common at the time. It may, perhaps, be more truly regarded
as an excursion into romantic comedy—the comedy which, like
Shakespeare's work, is not directly satiric on society or on individuals, but
tells stories poetically and in dramatic form with comic touches. It is
noteworthy that Don Juan is of all Molière's heroes least exposed to the
charge of being an abstraction rather than a man. The pleasant trifle,
L'Amour Médecin (same date), was succeeded by Le Misanthrope, 1666.
Here Molière's special vein of satire was worked most deeply and to most
profit, though the reproach that the handling is somewhat too serious for
comedy is not undeserved. Alceste the impatient but not cynical hero,
Célimène the coquette, Oronte the fop, Éliante the reasonable woman,
Arsinoé the mischief-maker, are all immortal types. The admirable farce-
comedy of the Médecin malgré Lui (same date), founded upon an old
fabliau, followed, and this was succeeded almost immediately by the
graceful pastoral of Mélicerte, the amusing Pastorale Comique, and the
slight sketch of Le Sicilien, ou L'Amour Peintre. At last, in 1667, Tartuffe
got itself represented. It is a vigorous and almost ferocious satire on
religious pretension masking vice, and many of its separate strokes are of
the dramatist's happiest. Here however, more than elsewhere, is felt the
drawback of the method. Comparing Tartuffe with Iago, we have all the
difference between a skilful but not wholly probable presentation of
wickedness in the abstract, and a picture of a wicked man. In Amphitryon,
1668, Molière measured himself with Plautus and produced an admirable
play. George Dandin (same date), the working up of La Jalousie du
Barbouillé, is one of the happiest of his sketches of conjugal infelicity. Then
came L'Avare (same date), in which Molière was once more indebted to the
ancients and to his French predecessors, but in which he amply justified his
borrowings. At this time he extended his field and brought his knowledge of
provincial and bourgeois life to bear. M. de Pourceaugnac, 1669, is an
ingenious satire, pushed to the verge of burlesque and farce, on the country
though necessarily artificial, has great beauty. Next in point of composition
came The Hypocrite, that is to say Tartuffe, but the difficulties which this
met with made Le Festin de Pierre, 1665, appear first. This is a tragi-comic
working up of the Don Juan story, and is of a different class from any other
of Molière's comedies. It has been thought, but without sufficient ground,
that Molière here gave expression to a modified form of the freethinking
which was so common at the time. It may, perhaps, be more truly regarded
as an excursion into romantic comedy—the comedy which, like
Shakespeare's work, is not directly satiric on society or on individuals, but
tells stories poetically and in dramatic form with comic touches. It is
noteworthy that Don Juan is of all Molière's heroes least exposed to the
charge of being an abstraction rather than a man. The pleasant trifle,
L'Amour Médecin (same date), was succeeded by Le Misanthrope, 1666.
Here Molière's special vein of satire was worked most deeply and to most
profit, though the reproach that the handling is somewhat too serious for
comedy is not undeserved. Alceste the impatient but not cynical hero,
Célimène the coquette, Oronte the fop, Éliante the reasonable woman,
Arsinoé the mischief-maker, are all immortal types. The admirable farce-
comedy of the Médecin malgré Lui (same date), founded upon an old
fabliau, followed, and this was succeeded almost immediately by the
graceful pastoral of Mélicerte, the amusing Pastorale Comique, and the
slight sketch of Le Sicilien, ou L'Amour Peintre. At last, in 1667, Tartuffe
got itself represented. It is a vigorous and almost ferocious satire on
religious pretension masking vice, and many of its separate strokes are of
the dramatist's happiest. Here however, more than elsewhere, is felt the
drawback of the method. Comparing Tartuffe with Iago, we have all the
difference between a skilful but not wholly probable presentation of
wickedness in the abstract, and a picture of a wicked man. In Amphitryon,
1668, Molière measured himself with Plautus and produced an admirable
play. George Dandin (same date), the working up of La Jalousie du
Barbouillé, is one of the happiest of his sketches of conjugal infelicity. Then
came L'Avare (same date), in which Molière was once more indebted to the
ancients and to his French predecessors, but in which he amply justified his
borrowings. At this time he extended his field and brought his knowledge of
provincial and bourgeois life to bear. M. de Pourceaugnac, 1669, is an
ingenious satire, pushed to the verge of burlesque and farce, on the country
Page 338
squires of France. Les Amants Magnifiques, 1670, shows the writer once
more in his capacity of court playwright. But Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme
(same date) is the most audacious and by far the most successful of the
wonderful extravaganzas in which a sound and perennial motive of satire on
society is wrapped up, the theme this time being the bourgeoisie of Paris, of
which the author was himself a member. Psyché, 1671, is, perhaps, the most
remarkable example of collaboration in literature, Molière, Pierre Corneille,
and Quinault, the greatest comic dramatist, the greatest tragic dramatist, and
the greatest opera librettist of the day, having joined their forces with a
result not unworthy of them. Les Fourberies de Scapin (same date) is again
farce, but farce such as only Molière could write; and in La Comtesse
d'Escarbagnas (same date) the theme of M. de Pourceaugnac is taken up
with a certain heightening of colour and manner. Les Femmes Savantes,
1672, brings the reader back to what is as emphatically 'la bonne comédie'
as its original Les Précieuses Ridicules. The tone and treatment are more
serious than in the older piece and deal with a different variety of feminine
coxcombry, but the effect is not less happy, and is free from the broader
elements of farce. Lastly, Le Malade Imaginaire, 1673, the swan-song of
Molière, combined both his greatest excellences, the power of raising
audacious farce into the region of true comedy and the power of satirising
social abuses with a pitiless but good-humoured hand. The main theme here
is the absurdity of the current practice of medicine, but as usual the genius
of the writer veils the fact of the drama being a drama with a purpose.
The unique individuality and the extraordinary merit of the various pieces
which make up Molière's theatre have made it necessary to give a tolerably
minute account of them, and that account will to a certain extent dispense
us from dealing with his general characteristics at great length, especially as
a few remarks on French comedy of the Molièresque kind as a whole will
have to be given at the end of this chapter. Independently of the characters
which Molière shares with all the great names of literature, his fertility and
justness of thought, the felicity of the expression in which he clothes it, and
his accurate observation of human life, there are two points in his drama
which belong, in the highest degree, to him alone. One is the extraordinary
manner in which he manages to imbue farce and burlesque with the true
spirit of refined comedy. This manner has been spoken of by unfriendly
critics as 'exaggerated,' but the reproach argues a deficiency of perception.
more in his capacity of court playwright. But Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme
(same date) is the most audacious and by far the most successful of the
wonderful extravaganzas in which a sound and perennial motive of satire on
society is wrapped up, the theme this time being the bourgeoisie of Paris, of
which the author was himself a member. Psyché, 1671, is, perhaps, the most
remarkable example of collaboration in literature, Molière, Pierre Corneille,
and Quinault, the greatest comic dramatist, the greatest tragic dramatist, and
the greatest opera librettist of the day, having joined their forces with a
result not unworthy of them. Les Fourberies de Scapin (same date) is again
farce, but farce such as only Molière could write; and in La Comtesse
d'Escarbagnas (same date) the theme of M. de Pourceaugnac is taken up
with a certain heightening of colour and manner. Les Femmes Savantes,
1672, brings the reader back to what is as emphatically 'la bonne comédie'
as its original Les Précieuses Ridicules. The tone and treatment are more
serious than in the older piece and deal with a different variety of feminine
coxcombry, but the effect is not less happy, and is free from the broader
elements of farce. Lastly, Le Malade Imaginaire, 1673, the swan-song of
Molière, combined both his greatest excellences, the power of raising
audacious farce into the region of true comedy and the power of satirising
social abuses with a pitiless but good-humoured hand. The main theme here
is the absurdity of the current practice of medicine, but as usual the genius
of the writer veils the fact of the drama being a drama with a purpose.
The unique individuality and the extraordinary merit of the various pieces
which make up Molière's theatre have made it necessary to give a tolerably
minute account of them, and that account will to a certain extent dispense
us from dealing with his general characteristics at great length, especially as
a few remarks on French comedy of the Molièresque kind as a whole will
have to be given at the end of this chapter. Independently of the characters
which Molière shares with all the great names of literature, his fertility and
justness of thought, the felicity of the expression in which he clothes it, and
his accurate observation of human life, there are two points in his drama
which belong, in the highest degree, to him alone. One is the extraordinary
manner in which he manages to imbue farce and burlesque with the true
spirit of refined comedy. This manner has been spoken of by unfriendly
critics as 'exaggerated,' but the reproach argues a deficiency of perception.
Page 339
Even the most roaring farces of Molière, even such pieces as M. de
Pourceaugnac and the Bourgeois Gentilhomme, demand rank as legitimate
comedy, owing to his unmatched faculty of intimating a general purpose
under the cloak of the merely ludicrous incidents which are made to
surround the fortunes of a particular person. This general purpose (and here
we come to the second point) is invariably a moral one. Of all dramatists,
ancient and modern, Molière is perhaps that one who has borne most
constantly in mind the theory that the stage is a lay-pulpit and that its end is
not merely amusement, but the reformation of manners by means of
amusing spectacles. Occasionally, no doubt, he has pushed this purpose too
far and has missed his mark. He has never given us, and perhaps could not
have given us, such examples of dramatic poetry of the non-tragic sort as
Shakespeare and Calderon have given. Indeed, it seems to be a mistake to
call Molière a poet at all, despite his extraordinary creative faculty. He was
too positive, too much given to literal transcription of society, too little able
to convey the vague suggestion of beauty which, as cannot be too often
repeated, is of the essence of poetry. But, if we are content to regard drama
as a middle term between poetry and prose, he, with the two poets just
named, must be appointed to the first place in it among modern authors. In
brilliancy of wit he is, among dramatists, inferior only to Aristophanes and
Congreve. But he took a less Rabelaisian licence of range than
Aristophanes, and he never, like Congreve, allows his action to drift
aimlessly while his characters shoot pleasantries at one another. If we leave
purely poetic merit out of the question and restrict the definition of comedy
to the dramatic presentment of the characters and incidents of actual life, in
such a manner as at once to hold the mirror up to nature and to convey
lessons of morality and conduct, we must allow Molière the rank of the
greatest comic writer of all the world. Castigat ridendo mores is a motto
which no one challenges with such a certainty of victory as he.
Although the number and the diversity of Molière's works were well
calculated to encourage imitators, it was some time before the imitators
appeared. Unlike Racine, whose method was at once caught up, Molière
saw during his lifetime no one who could even pretend to be a rival. Those
who are now classed as being in some degree of his time were for the most
part in their cradles when his masterpieces were being acted. Regnard, the
best of them, was born two years after the appearance of Le Dépit
Pourceaugnac and the Bourgeois Gentilhomme, demand rank as legitimate
comedy, owing to his unmatched faculty of intimating a general purpose
under the cloak of the merely ludicrous incidents which are made to
surround the fortunes of a particular person. This general purpose (and here
we come to the second point) is invariably a moral one. Of all dramatists,
ancient and modern, Molière is perhaps that one who has borne most
constantly in mind the theory that the stage is a lay-pulpit and that its end is
not merely amusement, but the reformation of manners by means of
amusing spectacles. Occasionally, no doubt, he has pushed this purpose too
far and has missed his mark. He has never given us, and perhaps could not
have given us, such examples of dramatic poetry of the non-tragic sort as
Shakespeare and Calderon have given. Indeed, it seems to be a mistake to
call Molière a poet at all, despite his extraordinary creative faculty. He was
too positive, too much given to literal transcription of society, too little able
to convey the vague suggestion of beauty which, as cannot be too often
repeated, is of the essence of poetry. But, if we are content to regard drama
as a middle term between poetry and prose, he, with the two poets just
named, must be appointed to the first place in it among modern authors. In
brilliancy of wit he is, among dramatists, inferior only to Aristophanes and
Congreve. But he took a less Rabelaisian licence of range than
Aristophanes, and he never, like Congreve, allows his action to drift
aimlessly while his characters shoot pleasantries at one another. If we leave
purely poetic merit out of the question and restrict the definition of comedy
to the dramatic presentment of the characters and incidents of actual life, in
such a manner as at once to hold the mirror up to nature and to convey
lessons of morality and conduct, we must allow Molière the rank of the
greatest comic writer of all the world. Castigat ridendo mores is a motto
which no one challenges with such a certainty of victory as he.
Although the number and the diversity of Molière's works were well
calculated to encourage imitators, it was some time before the imitators
appeared. Unlike Racine, whose method was at once caught up, Molière
saw during his lifetime no one who could even pretend to be a rival. Those
who are now classed as being in some degree of his time were for the most
part in their cradles when his masterpieces were being acted. Regnard, the
best of them, was born two years after the appearance of Le Dépit
Page 340
Amoureux and only three years before the appearance of Les Précieuses
Ridicules. Baron was his pupil and adoring disciple. Dufresny was but just
of age, and Dancourt but ten years old, at his death. Brueys and Palaprat
(the Beaumont and Fletcher, mutatis mutandis, of the French stage) did not
make up their curious association till long after that event, at the date of
which Le Sage was five years old. Quinault, Boursault, and Montfleury
alone were in active rivalry with him, and though none of them was
destitute of merit, the merit of none of them was in the least comparable to
his. He owed this advantage, for such it was, to his relatively early death
and to the wonderfully short space of time in which his masterpieces were
produced. Molière is identified with the age of Louis XIV., yet Les
Précieuses Ridicules was written years after the king's nominal accession,
and even after his actual assumption of the reins of government from the
hands of Mazarin, while Le Malade Imaginaire was acted by its dying
author more than forty years before the great king's reign ended.
Ridicules. Baron was his pupil and adoring disciple. Dufresny was but just
of age, and Dancourt but ten years old, at his death. Brueys and Palaprat
(the Beaumont and Fletcher, mutatis mutandis, of the French stage) did not
make up their curious association till long after that event, at the date of
which Le Sage was five years old. Quinault, Boursault, and Montfleury
alone were in active rivalry with him, and though none of them was
destitute of merit, the merit of none of them was in the least comparable to
his. He owed this advantage, for such it was, to his relatively early death
and to the wonderfully short space of time in which his masterpieces were
produced. Molière is identified with the age of Louis XIV., yet Les
Précieuses Ridicules was written years after the king's nominal accession,
and even after his actual assumption of the reins of government from the
hands of Mazarin, while Le Malade Imaginaire was acted by its dying
author more than forty years before the great king's reign ended.
Page 341
The three authors just mentioned as actually
contemporary with Molière require no very lengthy Contemporaries of
notice. Quinault may almost be said to have founded a Molière.
new literary school (in which none of his pupils has surpassed him) by the
excellence of his operas. Of these Armida is held the best. His comedies
proper are not quite so good as his operas, but much better than his
tragedies. One of them, L'Amant Indiscret, supplied Newcastle and Dryden
with hints to eke out L'Étourdi, and most of them show a considerable
command of comic situation, if not of comic expression. Montfleury, whose
real name was Antoine Jacob, was, like Molière, an actor. He belonged to
the old or rival company of the Hôtel de Bourgogne, and was born in 1640.
He wrote sixteen comedies, partly on contemporary subjects and partly
adaptations of Spanish originals. The two best are La Femme Juge et Partie
and La Fille Capitaine. They belong to an older style of comedy than
Molière's, being both extravagant and coarse, but there is considerable vis
comica in them. Boursault, who was born in 1638 and died in 1701, had
still more merit, though he too was an enemy of Molière. His Mercure
Galant is his principal play, besides which Ésope à la Cour, Ésope à la
Ville, and Phaeton may be mentioned. He was decidedly popular both as a
man and a writer. Vanbrugh imitated more than one of his plays. In all these
comedies a certain smack of the pre-Molièresque fancy for Comédies des
Chansons and other tours de force may be perceived. Besides these three
writers others of Molière's own contemporaries wrote comedies with more
or less success. La Fontaine himself was a dramatist, though his dramas do
not approach his other work in excellence. Thomas Corneille wrote
comedies, but none of importance; and Campistron attained a certain
amount of success in comic as in tragic drama. No one of these, however,
approached the authors of the younger generation who have been
mentioned.
Jean François Regnard, the second of French comic
dramatists in general estimation (though it is doubtful The School of
whether any single piece of his equals Turcaret), was Molière-Regnard.
born at Paris in 1656, and lived a curious life. He was heir to considerable
wealth and increased it, singular to say, by gambling. He had also a mania
for travelling, and when he was only two-and-twenty was captured by an
Algerian corsair and enslaved. After some adventures of a rather dubious
contemporary with Molière require no very lengthy Contemporaries of
notice. Quinault may almost be said to have founded a Molière.
new literary school (in which none of his pupils has surpassed him) by the
excellence of his operas. Of these Armida is held the best. His comedies
proper are not quite so good as his operas, but much better than his
tragedies. One of them, L'Amant Indiscret, supplied Newcastle and Dryden
with hints to eke out L'Étourdi, and most of them show a considerable
command of comic situation, if not of comic expression. Montfleury, whose
real name was Antoine Jacob, was, like Molière, an actor. He belonged to
the old or rival company of the Hôtel de Bourgogne, and was born in 1640.
He wrote sixteen comedies, partly on contemporary subjects and partly
adaptations of Spanish originals. The two best are La Femme Juge et Partie
and La Fille Capitaine. They belong to an older style of comedy than
Molière's, being both extravagant and coarse, but there is considerable vis
comica in them. Boursault, who was born in 1638 and died in 1701, had
still more merit, though he too was an enemy of Molière. His Mercure
Galant is his principal play, besides which Ésope à la Cour, Ésope à la
Ville, and Phaeton may be mentioned. He was decidedly popular both as a
man and a writer. Vanbrugh imitated more than one of his plays. In all these
comedies a certain smack of the pre-Molièresque fancy for Comédies des
Chansons and other tours de force may be perceived. Besides these three
writers others of Molière's own contemporaries wrote comedies with more
or less success. La Fontaine himself was a dramatist, though his dramas do
not approach his other work in excellence. Thomas Corneille wrote
comedies, but none of importance; and Campistron attained a certain
amount of success in comic as in tragic drama. No one of these, however,
approached the authors of the younger generation who have been
mentioned.
Jean François Regnard, the second of French comic
dramatists in general estimation (though it is doubtful The School of
whether any single piece of his equals Turcaret), was Molière-Regnard.
born at Paris in 1656, and lived a curious life. He was heir to considerable
wealth and increased it, singular to say, by gambling. He had also a mania
for travelling, and when he was only two-and-twenty was captured by an
Algerian corsair and enslaved. After some adventures of a rather dubious
Page 342
character he was ransomed, but continued to travel for some years. At last
he returned to France, bought several lucrative offices and an estate in the
country, and lived partly there and partly at Paris, writing comedies and
indulging largely in the pleasures of the table. He died at his château of
Grillon in 1710, apparently of a fit of indigestion; but various legends are
current about the exact cause of his death. He wrote twenty-three plays
(including one tragedy of no value) and collaborated with Dufresny in four
others. Many of these pieces were comic operas. At least a dozen were
represented by the 'Maison de Molière.' The best of them are Le Joueur, Le
Distrait, Les Ménéchmes, Le Légataire, the first and the last named being
his principal titles to fame. Regnard trod as closely as he could in the steps
of Molière. He was destitute of that great dramatist's grasp of character and
moral earnestness; but he is a thoroughly lively writer, and well merited the
retort of Boileau (by no means a lenient critic, especially to the young men
who succeeded his old friend), when some one charged Regnard with
mediocrity, 'Il n'est pas médiocrement gai.'
Baron the actor was born in 1643 and died in 1729, after having long been
the leading star of the French stage. He wrote, though it is sometimes said
that he was aided by others, seven comedies. One of these, L'Andrienne, is a
clever adaptation of Terence, and another, L'Homme aux Bonnes Fortunes,
has considerable merit in point of writing and of that stage adaptability
which few writers who have not been themselves actors have known how to
master.
Charles Rivière Dufresny, a descendant of 'La Belle Jardinière,' one of
Henri IV.'s village loves, was born in 1648 and died in 1724. He was a great
favourite of Louis XIV. and a kind of universal genius, devoting himself by
turns to almost every branch of literature and of the arts. He was, however,
incurably desultory, and was besides a man of disorderly life. His comedies
were numerous and full of wit and knowledge of the world, but somewhat
destitute of finish. Besides those in which Regnard collaborated he was the
author of eleven pieces, of which L'Esprit de Contradiction, Le Double
Veuvage, La Coquette de Village, and La Réconciliation Normande are
perhaps the best.
Florent Carton Dancourt was born in 1661 and died in 1725. He too was a
favourite of Louis XIV., but, unlike Dufresny, he was an actor as well as an
he returned to France, bought several lucrative offices and an estate in the
country, and lived partly there and partly at Paris, writing comedies and
indulging largely in the pleasures of the table. He died at his château of
Grillon in 1710, apparently of a fit of indigestion; but various legends are
current about the exact cause of his death. He wrote twenty-three plays
(including one tragedy of no value) and collaborated with Dufresny in four
others. Many of these pieces were comic operas. At least a dozen were
represented by the 'Maison de Molière.' The best of them are Le Joueur, Le
Distrait, Les Ménéchmes, Le Légataire, the first and the last named being
his principal titles to fame. Regnard trod as closely as he could in the steps
of Molière. He was destitute of that great dramatist's grasp of character and
moral earnestness; but he is a thoroughly lively writer, and well merited the
retort of Boileau (by no means a lenient critic, especially to the young men
who succeeded his old friend), when some one charged Regnard with
mediocrity, 'Il n'est pas médiocrement gai.'
Baron the actor was born in 1643 and died in 1729, after having long been
the leading star of the French stage. He wrote, though it is sometimes said
that he was aided by others, seven comedies. One of these, L'Andrienne, is a
clever adaptation of Terence, and another, L'Homme aux Bonnes Fortunes,
has considerable merit in point of writing and of that stage adaptability
which few writers who have not been themselves actors have known how to
master.
Charles Rivière Dufresny, a descendant of 'La Belle Jardinière,' one of
Henri IV.'s village loves, was born in 1648 and died in 1724. He was a great
favourite of Louis XIV. and a kind of universal genius, devoting himself by
turns to almost every branch of literature and of the arts. He was, however,
incurably desultory, and was besides a man of disorderly life. His comedies
were numerous and full of wit and knowledge of the world, but somewhat
destitute of finish. Besides those in which Regnard collaborated he was the
author of eleven pieces, of which L'Esprit de Contradiction, Le Double
Veuvage, La Coquette de Village, and La Réconciliation Normande are
perhaps the best.
Florent Carton Dancourt was born in 1661 and died in 1725. He too was a
favourite of Louis XIV., but, unlike Dufresny, he was an actor as well as an
Page 343
author. Towards the end of his days, having made a moderate fortune, he
betook himself to a country life and to the practice of religious duties. His
théâtre is considerable, extending to twelve volumes. The great peculiarity
of his comedies is that they deal almost exclusively with the middle class.
Les Bourgeoises de Qualité and Le Chevalier à la Mode, perhaps also Le
Galant Jardinier and Les Trois Cousines, deserve mention.
The collaboration of Brueys and Palaprat resulted in the modern version of
the famous mediaeval farce, L'Avocat Pathelin, and in an excellent piece of
the Molière-Regnard type, Le Grondeur. Some other plays of less merit
were written by the friends, while each is responsible for two independent
pieces. Both were Provençals, David Augustin de Brueys having been born
at Aix in 1640, Jean Palaprat at Toulouse ten years later. Brueys, who, as an
abbé converted by Bossuet and engaged actively in propagating his new
faith, had some difficulty in appearing publicly as a dramatic author, is
understood to have had the chief share in the composition of the joint
dramas.
The general characteristics of this remarkable comedy
are not hard to define. Based as it was, after Molière had Characteristics of
Molièresque
once set the example, on the direct study of the actual Comedy.
facts of society and human nature, it could not fail to
appeal to universal sympathy in a very different degree from the artificial
tragedy which accompanied it. It was, moreover, far less trammelled by
rules than the sister variety of drama. Unities did not press very heavily on
the comic dramatist; his choice and number of characters, his licence of
action on the stage, and so forth, were unlimited; he could write in prose or
verse at his pleasure, and, if he chose verse, he was bound to a much less
monotonous kind of it than his tragic brother. Consequently the majority of
the objections which lie against the masterpieces of Corneille and Racine,
and which make the work of their imitators almost unreadable, leave
Molière and his followers unscathed. One drawback only remained, the
drawback already commented on in the case of tragedy, and admitted by
French critics themselves in some such terms as that Shakespeare took
individuals, Molière took types. The advantage of the latter method for
enforcing a moral lesson is evident; its literary disadvantages are evident
likewise. It leads to an ignoring of the complexity of human nature and to
an unnatural prominence of the 'ruling passion.' The highest dramatic
betook himself to a country life and to the practice of religious duties. His
théâtre is considerable, extending to twelve volumes. The great peculiarity
of his comedies is that they deal almost exclusively with the middle class.
Les Bourgeoises de Qualité and Le Chevalier à la Mode, perhaps also Le
Galant Jardinier and Les Trois Cousines, deserve mention.
The collaboration of Brueys and Palaprat resulted in the modern version of
the famous mediaeval farce, L'Avocat Pathelin, and in an excellent piece of
the Molière-Regnard type, Le Grondeur. Some other plays of less merit
were written by the friends, while each is responsible for two independent
pieces. Both were Provençals, David Augustin de Brueys having been born
at Aix in 1640, Jean Palaprat at Toulouse ten years later. Brueys, who, as an
abbé converted by Bossuet and engaged actively in propagating his new
faith, had some difficulty in appearing publicly as a dramatic author, is
understood to have had the chief share in the composition of the joint
dramas.
The general characteristics of this remarkable comedy
are not hard to define. Based as it was, after Molière had Characteristics of
Molièresque
once set the example, on the direct study of the actual Comedy.
facts of society and human nature, it could not fail to
appeal to universal sympathy in a very different degree from the artificial
tragedy which accompanied it. It was, moreover, far less trammelled by
rules than the sister variety of drama. Unities did not press very heavily on
the comic dramatist; his choice and number of characters, his licence of
action on the stage, and so forth, were unlimited; he could write in prose or
verse at his pleasure, and, if he chose verse, he was bound to a much less
monotonous kind of it than his tragic brother. Consequently the majority of
the objections which lie against the masterpieces of Corneille and Racine,
and which make the work of their imitators almost unreadable, leave
Molière and his followers unscathed. One drawback only remained, the
drawback already commented on in the case of tragedy, and admitted by
French critics themselves in some such terms as that Shakespeare took
individuals, Molière took types. The advantage of the latter method for
enforcing a moral lesson is evident; its literary disadvantages are evident
likewise. It leads to an ignoring of the complexity of human nature and to
an unnatural prominence of the 'ruling passion.' The highest dramatic
Page 344
triumphs of single character in comedy, Falstaff, Rosalind, Beatrice,
become impossible. As it has been remarked, the very titles of these plays,
Le Misanthrope, Le Joueur, Le Grondeur, show their defects. No man is a
mere misanthrope, a mere gambler, a mere grumbler; and the dramatist who
approaches comedy from the side of Molière is but too apt to forget the fact
in his anxiety to enforce his moral and deepen the strokes of his general
type.
FOOTNOTES:
[233] Ed. Stengel. 5 vols. Marburg, 1884. Cf. Rigal, Alexandre Hardy. Paris,
1889.
[234] This singular work has been published in vol. 8 of the Ancien Théâtre
Français in the Bibliothèque Elzévirienne. It consists of two parts (or, as the
author calls them, days), and fills some two hundred pages. The traditions of the
classical drama are thrown to the winds in it, and the liberty of action, the
abundance of personages, the bustle and liveliness of the presentation are almost
equal to those of the contemporary English theatre.
[235] Ed. Viollet-le-Duc. Also in a convenient selection of his best plays, by L.
de Ronchaud. Paris, 1882.
[236] It is pretty generally known that Richelieu himself (besides other dramatic
work) composed the whole, or nearly the whole, of a play Mirame, which he had
sumptuously performed, and which was fathered by Desmarest. It possessed no
merit.
[237] Ed. Marty-Laveaux. 12 vols. Paris, 1862-67.
[238] Ed. Mesnard. 8 vols. Paris, 1867.
[239] The work of (or attributed to) this singular and obscure person has been
edited by M. G. Aventin in 2 vols, of the Bibliothèque Elzévirienne (Paris,
1858). The name was certainly assumed, and the date and history of the bearer
are quite uncertain. The third decade of the seventeenth century seems to have
been his most flourishing time. He was the most remarkable of a class of
charlatans, others of whom bore the names of Gaultier-Garguille, Gros-
Guillaume, etc., and the work which goes under his name is typical of a large
mass of facetiae. It consists of dialogues between Tabarin and his master, of
farcical adventures in which figure Rodomont (the typical hero of romance) and
Isabelle (the typical heroine), etc., etc.
[240] These will be found in the dramatic collection of the Bibliothèque
Elzévirienne already cited, as well as other pieces, of which the most remarkable
is the Corrivaux of Troterel (1612). Saint-Evremond among his earlier works
produced a Comédie des Académistes, satirising the then young Academy.
become impossible. As it has been remarked, the very titles of these plays,
Le Misanthrope, Le Joueur, Le Grondeur, show their defects. No man is a
mere misanthrope, a mere gambler, a mere grumbler; and the dramatist who
approaches comedy from the side of Molière is but too apt to forget the fact
in his anxiety to enforce his moral and deepen the strokes of his general
type.
FOOTNOTES:
[233] Ed. Stengel. 5 vols. Marburg, 1884. Cf. Rigal, Alexandre Hardy. Paris,
1889.
[234] This singular work has been published in vol. 8 of the Ancien Théâtre
Français in the Bibliothèque Elzévirienne. It consists of two parts (or, as the
author calls them, days), and fills some two hundred pages. The traditions of the
classical drama are thrown to the winds in it, and the liberty of action, the
abundance of personages, the bustle and liveliness of the presentation are almost
equal to those of the contemporary English theatre.
[235] Ed. Viollet-le-Duc. Also in a convenient selection of his best plays, by L.
de Ronchaud. Paris, 1882.
[236] It is pretty generally known that Richelieu himself (besides other dramatic
work) composed the whole, or nearly the whole, of a play Mirame, which he had
sumptuously performed, and which was fathered by Desmarest. It possessed no
merit.
[237] Ed. Marty-Laveaux. 12 vols. Paris, 1862-67.
[238] Ed. Mesnard. 8 vols. Paris, 1867.
[239] The work of (or attributed to) this singular and obscure person has been
edited by M. G. Aventin in 2 vols, of the Bibliothèque Elzévirienne (Paris,
1858). The name was certainly assumed, and the date and history of the bearer
are quite uncertain. The third decade of the seventeenth century seems to have
been his most flourishing time. He was the most remarkable of a class of
charlatans, others of whom bore the names of Gaultier-Garguille, Gros-
Guillaume, etc., and the work which goes under his name is typical of a large
mass of facetiae. It consists of dialogues between Tabarin and his master, of
farcical adventures in which figure Rodomont (the typical hero of romance) and
Isabelle (the typical heroine), etc., etc.
[240] These will be found in the dramatic collection of the Bibliothèque
Elzévirienne already cited, as well as other pieces, of which the most remarkable
is the Corrivaux of Troterel (1612). Saint-Evremond among his earlier works
produced a Comédie des Académistes, satirising the then young Academy.
Page 345
[241] Ed. Moland. 7 vols. Paris, 1863. Ed. (in 'Grands Ecrivains' series) Despois,
Regnier, and Mesnard. Paris (in progress).
Regnier, and Mesnard. Paris (in progress).
Page 346
CHAPTER III.
NOVELISTS.
Prose fiction, for reasons which it is not at all hard to
discover, is in its more complete forms always a late D'Urfé.
product of literature. Up to the beginning of the
seventeenth century, France had known nothing of it except the short prose
tales which had succeeded the Fabliaux, and which had been chiefly
founded on imitation of the Italians, with the late and inferior prose versions
of the romances of chivalry, the isolated masterpiece of Gargantua and
Pantagruel, and the translated and adapted versions of the Amadis and its
continuations. The imitation of Spanish literature was constant in the early
seventeenth century, and the great wave of conceited style which, under the
various names of Euphuism, Gongorism, Marinism, invaded all the literary
countries of Europe, did not spare France. The result was a very singular
class of literature which, except for a few burlesque works, almost
monopolised the attention of novelists during the first half of the century.
The example of it was in a manner set by Honoré d'Urfé in the Astrée,
which was, however, rather pastoral than heroic. D'Urfé, who was a man of
position and wealth in the district of Forez, imagined, on the banks of the
Lignon, a stream running past his home, a kind of Arcadia, the popularity of
which is sufficiently shown by the adoption of the name of the hero,
Céladon, as one of the stock names in French for a lover. He took, perhaps,
some of his machinery from the Aminta of Tasso and from the other Italian
pastorals, but he emulated the Amadis in the interminable series of
adventures and the long-windedness of his treatment. He had, however,
some literary power, while the necessary verisimilitude was provided for by
the adaptation of numerous personal experiences, and the book has
preserved a certain reputation for graceful sentiment and attractive pictures
of nature. It was extraordinarily popular at the time and long afterwards, so
much so that a contemporary ecclesiastic, Camus de Pontcarré, considered
it necessary to supply an antidote to the bane in the shape of a series of
NOVELISTS.
Prose fiction, for reasons which it is not at all hard to
discover, is in its more complete forms always a late D'Urfé.
product of literature. Up to the beginning of the
seventeenth century, France had known nothing of it except the short prose
tales which had succeeded the Fabliaux, and which had been chiefly
founded on imitation of the Italians, with the late and inferior prose versions
of the romances of chivalry, the isolated masterpiece of Gargantua and
Pantagruel, and the translated and adapted versions of the Amadis and its
continuations. The imitation of Spanish literature was constant in the early
seventeenth century, and the great wave of conceited style which, under the
various names of Euphuism, Gongorism, Marinism, invaded all the literary
countries of Europe, did not spare France. The result was a very singular
class of literature which, except for a few burlesque works, almost
monopolised the attention of novelists during the first half of the century.
The example of it was in a manner set by Honoré d'Urfé in the Astrée,
which was, however, rather pastoral than heroic. D'Urfé, who was a man of
position and wealth in the district of Forez, imagined, on the banks of the
Lignon, a stream running past his home, a kind of Arcadia, the popularity of
which is sufficiently shown by the adoption of the name of the hero,
Céladon, as one of the stock names in French for a lover. He took, perhaps,
some of his machinery from the Aminta of Tasso and from the other Italian
pastorals, but he emulated the Amadis in the interminable series of
adventures and the long-windedness of his treatment. He had, however,
some literary power, while the necessary verisimilitude was provided for by
the adaptation of numerous personal experiences, and the book has
preserved a certain reputation for graceful sentiment and attractive pictures
of nature. It was extraordinarily popular at the time and long afterwards, so
much so that a contemporary ecclesiastic, Camus de Pontcarré, considered
it necessary to supply an antidote to the bane in the shape of a series of
Page 347
Christian pastorals, the name of one of which, Palombe, is known, because
of an edition of it in the present century.
D'Urfé belonged as much to the sixteenth as to the
seventeenth century, though the Astrée was the work of The Heroic
the latter part of his life, and was indeed left unfinished Romances.
by him. It was shortly afterwards, under the influence chiefly of the
growing fancy for literary coteries, that the heroic romance properly so
called was born. This was usually a narration of vast length, in which
sometimes the heroes and heroines of classical antiquity, sometimes
personages due more or less to the author's imagination, were conducted
through a more than Amadis-like series of trials and adventures, with
interludes and a general setting of high-flown gallantry. This latter
possessed a complete jargon of its own, and (though the hypothesis of its
power over the classical French drama is for the most part exaggerated)
continued to exercise a vast influence on literature and on society, even
after Molière had poured on its chief practitioners and advocates the
undying mockery of his Précieuses Ridicules. There were three prominent
authors in this style, Mademoiselle de Scudéry, La Calprenède, and
Gomberville. Mademoiselle de Scudéry, known in the coterie nomenclature
of the time as 'Sapho,' was the sister of Georges de Scudéry, and a woman
of considerable talent and more considerable industry. Madeleine de
Scudéry was born at Havre in 1607, and died at Paris in 1701, her life thus
covering nearly the whole of the century of which she was one of the most
conspicuous literary figures. She had no beauty—indeed she was very ugly
—but the eccentric military and literary reputation of her brother and her
own talents made her the centre and head of an important coterie in the
capital. Her romances, the earliest of which was Ibrahim, were published
under her brother's name, but their authorship was well known. She was
extremely accomplished, not merely in the accomplishments of a blue-
stocking but in art, and even in housewifery. After her series of romances
was finished she published many volumes, chiefly condensed or extracted
from them, containing Conversations of the moral kind, which attracted
attention from some persons who had not condescended to the romances
themselves. It ought never to be forgotten that among the most fervent
admirers of her books and of their fellows was Madame de Sévigné, who
was certainly almost as acute in literary criticism as she was skilful in
of an edition of it in the present century.
D'Urfé belonged as much to the sixteenth as to the
seventeenth century, though the Astrée was the work of The Heroic
the latter part of his life, and was indeed left unfinished Romances.
by him. It was shortly afterwards, under the influence chiefly of the
growing fancy for literary coteries, that the heroic romance properly so
called was born. This was usually a narration of vast length, in which
sometimes the heroes and heroines of classical antiquity, sometimes
personages due more or less to the author's imagination, were conducted
through a more than Amadis-like series of trials and adventures, with
interludes and a general setting of high-flown gallantry. This latter
possessed a complete jargon of its own, and (though the hypothesis of its
power over the classical French drama is for the most part exaggerated)
continued to exercise a vast influence on literature and on society, even
after Molière had poured on its chief practitioners and advocates the
undying mockery of his Précieuses Ridicules. There were three prominent
authors in this style, Mademoiselle de Scudéry, La Calprenède, and
Gomberville. Mademoiselle de Scudéry, known in the coterie nomenclature
of the time as 'Sapho,' was the sister of Georges de Scudéry, and a woman
of considerable talent and more considerable industry. Madeleine de
Scudéry was born at Havre in 1607, and died at Paris in 1701, her life thus
covering nearly the whole of the century of which she was one of the most
conspicuous literary figures. She had no beauty—indeed she was very ugly
—but the eccentric military and literary reputation of her brother and her
own talents made her the centre and head of an important coterie in the
capital. Her romances, the earliest of which was Ibrahim, were published
under her brother's name, but their authorship was well known. She was
extremely accomplished, not merely in the accomplishments of a blue-
stocking but in art, and even in housewifery. After her series of romances
was finished she published many volumes, chiefly condensed or extracted
from them, containing Conversations of the moral kind, which attracted
attention from some persons who had not condescended to the romances
themselves. It ought never to be forgotten that among the most fervent
admirers of her books and of their fellows was Madame de Sévigné, who
was certainly almost as acute in literary criticism as she was skilful in
Page 348
literary composition. Her novels, the most famous of their class, are the
Grand Cyrus, otherwise Artamène, Clélie, Ibrahim, or the Illustrious Bassa,
and Almahide, the latter being partly, but chiefly in the name of the heroine,
the source of Dryden's Conquest of Granada. The Grand Cyrus is, at least
by title, the best remembered, but it is in Clélie that the best-known and
most characteristic trait appears, the delineation and description namely of
the Carte de Tendre[242]. Tendre is the country of love, through which flows
the river of Inclination watering the villages of 'Pretty Verses,' 'Gallant
Epistles,' 'Assiduity,' etc., while elsewhere in the region are the less cheerful
localities of 'Levity,' 'Indifference,' 'Perfidy,' and so forth. La Calprenède, a
Gascon by birth, was the author of Cléopâtre (which ranks perhaps with
Cyrus as the chief example of the style), of Cassandre and of Pharamond.
Gauthier de Coste (which was his personal name) figures, like most of the
notable persons of the middle of the century, in the Historiettes of
Tallemant, who says of him, 'Il n'y a jamais eu un homme plus Gascon que
celui-ci.' The assertion is supported by some characteristic but not easily
quotable anecdotes. The criticism of Tallemant, however, does not apply
badly to the whole class of compositions. 'Les héros,' says he, speaking of
Cassandre, 'se ressemblent comme deux gouttes d'eau, parlent tous Phébus
(the euphuist jargon of the time), et sont tous des gens à cent mille lieues au
dessus des autres hommes.' Marin le Roy, Seigneur de Gomberville, who
was something of a Jansenist, attended rather to edification than gallantry in
his Alcidiane, Caritée, Polexandre, and Cythérée. Though earlier in date he
is inferior in power to Mademoiselle de Scudéry and to La Calprenède, the
first of whom had some wit and much culture, while La Calprenède
possessed a decided grasp of heroic character and some notion of the
method of composing historical novels. Gomberville, a man of wealth and
position, was also a writer of moral works. Putting the artificiality of the
general style out of the question, the chief fault to be found with these
books is their enormous length. They fill eight, ten, or even twelve
volumes; they consist of five, six, or even seven thousand pages, though the
pages are not very large and the print by no means close. Even the liveliest
work—work like Fielding's or Le Sage's—would become tiresome on such
a scale as this; and it is still incomprehensible how any one not having some
special object to serve by it could struggle through such enormous wastes of
verbiage and unreality as form the bulk of these novels. Even when the
passion for the heroic style strictly so called began to wane no great
Grand Cyrus, otherwise Artamène, Clélie, Ibrahim, or the Illustrious Bassa,
and Almahide, the latter being partly, but chiefly in the name of the heroine,
the source of Dryden's Conquest of Granada. The Grand Cyrus is, at least
by title, the best remembered, but it is in Clélie that the best-known and
most characteristic trait appears, the delineation and description namely of
the Carte de Tendre[242]. Tendre is the country of love, through which flows
the river of Inclination watering the villages of 'Pretty Verses,' 'Gallant
Epistles,' 'Assiduity,' etc., while elsewhere in the region are the less cheerful
localities of 'Levity,' 'Indifference,' 'Perfidy,' and so forth. La Calprenède, a
Gascon by birth, was the author of Cléopâtre (which ranks perhaps with
Cyrus as the chief example of the style), of Cassandre and of Pharamond.
Gauthier de Coste (which was his personal name) figures, like most of the
notable persons of the middle of the century, in the Historiettes of
Tallemant, who says of him, 'Il n'y a jamais eu un homme plus Gascon que
celui-ci.' The assertion is supported by some characteristic but not easily
quotable anecdotes. The criticism of Tallemant, however, does not apply
badly to the whole class of compositions. 'Les héros,' says he, speaking of
Cassandre, 'se ressemblent comme deux gouttes d'eau, parlent tous Phébus
(the euphuist jargon of the time), et sont tous des gens à cent mille lieues au
dessus des autres hommes.' Marin le Roy, Seigneur de Gomberville, who
was something of a Jansenist, attended rather to edification than gallantry in
his Alcidiane, Caritée, Polexandre, and Cythérée. Though earlier in date he
is inferior in power to Mademoiselle de Scudéry and to La Calprenède, the
first of whom had some wit and much culture, while La Calprenède
possessed a decided grasp of heroic character and some notion of the
method of composing historical novels. Gomberville, a man of wealth and
position, was also a writer of moral works. Putting the artificiality of the
general style out of the question, the chief fault to be found with these
books is their enormous length. They fill eight, ten, or even twelve
volumes; they consist of five, six, or even seven thousand pages, though the
pages are not very large and the print by no means close. Even the liveliest
work—work like Fielding's or Le Sage's—would become tiresome on such
a scale as this; and it is still incomprehensible how any one not having some
special object to serve by it could struggle through such enormous wastes of
verbiage and unreality as form the bulk of these novels. Even when the
passion for the heroic style strictly so called began to wane no great
Page 349
improvement at first manifested itself. Catherine Desjardins[243] (who wrote
under the name of Madame de Villedieu) produced numerous books (the
chief of which is Le Grand Alcandre), not indeed so absolutely
preposterous in general conception, but even more vapid and destitute of
originality and distinction[244].
These impracticable and barren styles of fiction were succeeded in the latter
half of the century by something much better. The Picaroon romance of
Spain inspired Paul Scarron with the first of a long line of novels which, in
the hands of Le Sage, Defoe, Fielding, and Smollett, enriched the literature
of Europe with remarkable work. Madame de la Fayette laid the foundation
of the novel proper, or story of analysis of character; and towards the close
of the century the fairy tale attained, in the hands of Anthony Hamilton,
Perrault and Madame d'Aulnoy, its most delightful and abundant
development.
Paul Scarron was one of the most remarkable literary
figures of the century in respect of originality and Scarron.
eccentric talent, though few single works of his possess
formal completeness. He was of a family of Piedmontese origin and very
well connected, his father, of the same name, being a member of the
Parliament of Paris, and of sufficiently independent humour to oppose
Richelieu. Paul Scarron the younger (he had had an elder brother of the
same name who had died an infant) was born in 1610, and his mother did
not outlive his third year. His father married again; the stepmother did not
get on well with Paul, and he was half obliged and half induced to become
an abbé. For some years he lived a merry life, partly at Rome, partly at
Paris. But when he was still young a great calamity fell on him. A cock-and-
bull story of his having disguised himself as a savage in a kind of voluntary
tar-and-feather suit, and having been struck with paralysis in consequence
of plunging into an ice-cold stream to escape the populace, is usually told,
but there seems to be no truth in it. An attack of fever, followed by
rheumatism and mismanaged by the physicians of the day, appears to have
been the real cause of his misfortune. At any rate, for the last twenty years
of his life he was hopelessly deformed, almost helpless, and subject to acute
attacks of pain. But his spirit was unconquerable. He had some preferment
at Le Mans and a pension from the queen, which he lost on suspicion of
writing Mazarinades. Besides these he had what he called his 'Marquisat de
under the name of Madame de Villedieu) produced numerous books (the
chief of which is Le Grand Alcandre), not indeed so absolutely
preposterous in general conception, but even more vapid and destitute of
originality and distinction[244].
These impracticable and barren styles of fiction were succeeded in the latter
half of the century by something much better. The Picaroon romance of
Spain inspired Paul Scarron with the first of a long line of novels which, in
the hands of Le Sage, Defoe, Fielding, and Smollett, enriched the literature
of Europe with remarkable work. Madame de la Fayette laid the foundation
of the novel proper, or story of analysis of character; and towards the close
of the century the fairy tale attained, in the hands of Anthony Hamilton,
Perrault and Madame d'Aulnoy, its most delightful and abundant
development.
Paul Scarron was one of the most remarkable literary
figures of the century in respect of originality and Scarron.
eccentric talent, though few single works of his possess
formal completeness. He was of a family of Piedmontese origin and very
well connected, his father, of the same name, being a member of the
Parliament of Paris, and of sufficiently independent humour to oppose
Richelieu. Paul Scarron the younger (he had had an elder brother of the
same name who had died an infant) was born in 1610, and his mother did
not outlive his third year. His father married again; the stepmother did not
get on well with Paul, and he was half obliged and half induced to become
an abbé. For some years he lived a merry life, partly at Rome, partly at
Paris. But when he was still young a great calamity fell on him. A cock-and-
bull story of his having disguised himself as a savage in a kind of voluntary
tar-and-feather suit, and having been struck with paralysis in consequence
of plunging into an ice-cold stream to escape the populace, is usually told,
but there seems to be no truth in it. An attack of fever, followed by
rheumatism and mismanaged by the physicians of the day, appears to have
been the real cause of his misfortune. At any rate, for the last twenty years
of his life he was hopelessly deformed, almost helpless, and subject to acute
attacks of pain. But his spirit was unconquerable. He had some preferment
at Le Mans and a pension from the queen, which he lost on suspicion of
writing Mazarinades. Besides these he had what he called his 'Marquisat de
Page 350
Quinet,' that is to say, the money which Quinet the bookseller paid him for
his wares. In 1652 he astonished Paris by marrying Françoise d'Aubigné,
the future Madame de Maintenon, the granddaughter of Agrippa d'Aubigné.
The strange couple seem to have been happy enough, and such
unfavourable reports as exist against Madame Scarron may be set down to
political malice. But Scarron's health was utterly broken, and he died in
1660 at the age of fifty. His work was not inconsiderable, including some
plays and much burlesque poetry, the chief piece of which was his 'Virgil
travestied,' an ignoble task at best, but very cleverly performed. His prose,
however, is of much greater value. Many of his nouvelles, mostly imitated
from the Spanish, have merit, and his Roman Comique[245], though also
inspired to some extent from the peninsula, has still more. It is the
unfinished history of a troop of strolling actors, displaying extraordinary
truth of observation and power of realistic description in the style which, as
has been said, Le Sage and Fielding afterwards made popular throughout
Europe.
With Scarron may be classed another writer of not
dissimilar character, but of far less talent, whose Cyrano de
Bergerac.
eccentricities have given him a disproportionate
reputation even in France, while they have often entirely misled foreign
critics. Cyrano de Bergerac was a Gascon of not inconsiderable literary
power, whose odd personal appearance, audacity as a duellist, and
adherence, after conversion, to the unpopular cause of Mazarin, gave him a
position which his works fail to sustain. They are not, however, devoid of
merit. His Pédant Joué, a comedy, gave Molière some useful hints; his
Agrippine, a tragedy, has passages of declamatory energy. But his best work
comes under the head of fiction. The Voyages à la Lune et au Soleil[246], in
which the author partly followed Rabelais, and partly indulged his own
fancy for rodomontade, personal satire, and fantastic extravagance, have
had attributed to them the great and wholly unmerited honour of setting a
pattern to Swift. Cyrano, let it be repeated, was a man of talent, but his
powers (he died before he was thirty-five) had not time to mature, and the
reckless boastfulness of his character would probably have disqualified him
at all times from adequate study and self-criticism. Personally, he is an
amusing and interesting figure in literary history, but he is not much more.
his wares. In 1652 he astonished Paris by marrying Françoise d'Aubigné,
the future Madame de Maintenon, the granddaughter of Agrippa d'Aubigné.
The strange couple seem to have been happy enough, and such
unfavourable reports as exist against Madame Scarron may be set down to
political malice. But Scarron's health was utterly broken, and he died in
1660 at the age of fifty. His work was not inconsiderable, including some
plays and much burlesque poetry, the chief piece of which was his 'Virgil
travestied,' an ignoble task at best, but very cleverly performed. His prose,
however, is of much greater value. Many of his nouvelles, mostly imitated
from the Spanish, have merit, and his Roman Comique[245], though also
inspired to some extent from the peninsula, has still more. It is the
unfinished history of a troop of strolling actors, displaying extraordinary
truth of observation and power of realistic description in the style which, as
has been said, Le Sage and Fielding afterwards made popular throughout
Europe.
With Scarron may be classed another writer of not
dissimilar character, but of far less talent, whose Cyrano de
Bergerac.
eccentricities have given him a disproportionate
reputation even in France, while they have often entirely misled foreign
critics. Cyrano de Bergerac was a Gascon of not inconsiderable literary
power, whose odd personal appearance, audacity as a duellist, and
adherence, after conversion, to the unpopular cause of Mazarin, gave him a
position which his works fail to sustain. They are not, however, devoid of
merit. His Pédant Joué, a comedy, gave Molière some useful hints; his
Agrippine, a tragedy, has passages of declamatory energy. But his best work
comes under the head of fiction. The Voyages à la Lune et au Soleil[246], in
which the author partly followed Rabelais, and partly indulged his own
fancy for rodomontade, personal satire, and fantastic extravagance, have
had attributed to them the great and wholly unmerited honour of setting a
pattern to Swift. Cyrano, let it be repeated, was a man of talent, but his
powers (he died before he was thirty-five) had not time to mature, and the
reckless boastfulness of his character would probably have disqualified him
at all times from adequate study and self-criticism. Personally, he is an
amusing and interesting figure in literary history, but he is not much more.
Page 351
In company with him and with Scarron may be mentioned Dassoucy,
alternately a friend and enemy of Cyrano, and a light writer of some merit.
Charles Sorel, an exceedingly voluminous author,
historiographer of France, deserves mention in passing Furetière.
for his Histoire Comique de Francion[247], in which, as
in almost all the fictitious work of the time, serious as well as comic, living
persons are introduced. The chief remarkable thing about Francion is the
evidence it gives of an attempt at an early date (1623) to write a novel of
ordinary manners. It is a dull story with loose episodes. More interesting is
Antoine Furetière, author of the Roman Bourgeois[248]. Furetière, who was
a man of varied talent, holds no small place in the history of the calamities
of authors. He wrote poems, short tales, fables, satires, criticisms. He is said
to have given both Boileau and Racine not inconsiderable assistance.
Unfortunately for him, though he had been elected an academician in 1662,
he conceived and executed the idea of outstripping his tardy colleagues in
their dictionary work. He produced a book of great merit and utility, but one
which brought grave troubles on his own head. It was alleged that he had
infringed the privileges of the Academy; he was expelled from that body,
his own privilege for his own book was revoked, and it was not published
till after his death, becoming eventually the well-known Dictionnaire de
Trévoux. Furetière's side has been warmly taken in these days, and it has
been sought, not without success, to free him from the charge of all
impropriety of conduct, except the impropriety of continuing to be a
member of the Academy, while what he was doing could hardly be regarded
as anything but a slight on it. The Roman Bourgeois is an original and lively
book, without any general plot, but containing a series of very amusing
pictures of the Parisian middle-class society of the day, with many curious
traits of language and manners. It was published in 1666.
Of very different importance is the Countess de la
Fayette, who has the credit, and justly, of substituting for Madame de la
Fayette.
mere romances of adventure on the one hand, and for
stilted heroic work on the other, fiction in which the display of character is
held of chief account. In the school, indeed, of which Scarron set the
example in France, especially in Gil Blas, its masterpiece, the most accurate
knowledge and drawing of human motives and actions is to be found. But it
is knowledge and drawing of human motives and actions in the gross rather
alternately a friend and enemy of Cyrano, and a light writer of some merit.
Charles Sorel, an exceedingly voluminous author,
historiographer of France, deserves mention in passing Furetière.
for his Histoire Comique de Francion[247], in which, as
in almost all the fictitious work of the time, serious as well as comic, living
persons are introduced. The chief remarkable thing about Francion is the
evidence it gives of an attempt at an early date (1623) to write a novel of
ordinary manners. It is a dull story with loose episodes. More interesting is
Antoine Furetière, author of the Roman Bourgeois[248]. Furetière, who was
a man of varied talent, holds no small place in the history of the calamities
of authors. He wrote poems, short tales, fables, satires, criticisms. He is said
to have given both Boileau and Racine not inconsiderable assistance.
Unfortunately for him, though he had been elected an academician in 1662,
he conceived and executed the idea of outstripping his tardy colleagues in
their dictionary work. He produced a book of great merit and utility, but one
which brought grave troubles on his own head. It was alleged that he had
infringed the privileges of the Academy; he was expelled from that body,
his own privilege for his own book was revoked, and it was not published
till after his death, becoming eventually the well-known Dictionnaire de
Trévoux. Furetière's side has been warmly taken in these days, and it has
been sought, not without success, to free him from the charge of all
impropriety of conduct, except the impropriety of continuing to be a
member of the Academy, while what he was doing could hardly be regarded
as anything but a slight on it. The Roman Bourgeois is an original and lively
book, without any general plot, but containing a series of very amusing
pictures of the Parisian middle-class society of the day, with many curious
traits of language and manners. It was published in 1666.
Of very different importance is the Countess de la
Fayette, who has the credit, and justly, of substituting for Madame de la
Fayette.
mere romances of adventure on the one hand, and for
stilted heroic work on the other, fiction in which the display of character is
held of chief account. In the school, indeed, of which Scarron set the
example in France, especially in Gil Blas, its masterpiece, the most accurate
knowledge and drawing of human motives and actions is to be found. But it
is knowledge and drawing of human motives and actions in the gross rather
Page 352
than in particular. Gil Blas, and even Tom Jones, are types rather than
individuals, though the genius of their creators hides the fact. It is, perhaps,
an arguable point of literary criticism, whether the persevering analysis of
individual, and more or less unusual, character does not lead novelists away
from the best path—as it certainly leads in the long run to monstrosities of
the modern French and English 'realist' type. But this is a detail of criticism
into which there is no need to enter here. It is sufficient that the style has
produced some of the most admirable, and much of the most characteristic,
work of the last century, and that Madame de la Fayette is on the whole
entitled to the credit of being its originator. Her pen was taken up in the
next century by the Abbé Prevost and by Richardson, and from these three
the novel, as opposed to the romance, may be said to descend. The maiden
name of Madame de la Fayette[249] was Marie Madeleine Pioche de la
Vergne, and she was born at Paris in 1634. Her father was governor of
Havre. She was carefully brought up under Ménage and Rapin, among
others, and was one of the most brilliant of the précieuses of the Hôtel
Rambouillet. In 1655 she married the Count de la Fayette, but was soon left
a widow. After his death she contracted a kind of Platonic friendship with
La Rochefoucauld, who was then in the decline of life, tormented with gout,
and consoling himself for the departure of the days when he was one of the
most important men in France by the composition of his undying Maxims.
She survived him thirteen years, and died herself in 1693. During the whole
of her life she was on the most intimate terms with Madame de Sévigné, as
well as with many of the foremost men of letters of the time. In particular
there are extant a large number of letters between her and Huet, bishop of
Avranches, one of the most learned, amiable, and upright prelates of the
age. Her first attempt at novel-writing was La Princesse de Montpensier.
This was followed by Zaïde, published in 1670, a book of considerable
excellence; and this in its turn by La Princesse de Clèves, published in
1677, which is one of the classics of French literature. The book is but a
small one, not amounting in size to a single volume of a modern English
novel, and this must of itself have been no small novelty and relief after the
portentous bulk of the Scudéry romances. Its scene is laid at the court of
Henri II., and there is a certain historical basis; but the principal personages
are drawn from the author's own experience, herself being the heroine, her
husband the Prince of Clèves, and Rochefoucauld the Duke de Nemours,
while other characters are identified with Louis XIV. and his courtiers by
individuals, though the genius of their creators hides the fact. It is, perhaps,
an arguable point of literary criticism, whether the persevering analysis of
individual, and more or less unusual, character does not lead novelists away
from the best path—as it certainly leads in the long run to monstrosities of
the modern French and English 'realist' type. But this is a detail of criticism
into which there is no need to enter here. It is sufficient that the style has
produced some of the most admirable, and much of the most characteristic,
work of the last century, and that Madame de la Fayette is on the whole
entitled to the credit of being its originator. Her pen was taken up in the
next century by the Abbé Prevost and by Richardson, and from these three
the novel, as opposed to the romance, may be said to descend. The maiden
name of Madame de la Fayette[249] was Marie Madeleine Pioche de la
Vergne, and she was born at Paris in 1634. Her father was governor of
Havre. She was carefully brought up under Ménage and Rapin, among
others, and was one of the most brilliant of the précieuses of the Hôtel
Rambouillet. In 1655 she married the Count de la Fayette, but was soon left
a widow. After his death she contracted a kind of Platonic friendship with
La Rochefoucauld, who was then in the decline of life, tormented with gout,
and consoling himself for the departure of the days when he was one of the
most important men in France by the composition of his undying Maxims.
She survived him thirteen years, and died herself in 1693. During the whole
of her life she was on the most intimate terms with Madame de Sévigné, as
well as with many of the foremost men of letters of the time. In particular
there are extant a large number of letters between her and Huet, bishop of
Avranches, one of the most learned, amiable, and upright prelates of the
age. Her first attempt at novel-writing was La Princesse de Montpensier.
This was followed by Zaïde, published in 1670, a book of considerable
excellence; and this in its turn by La Princesse de Clèves, published in
1677, which is one of the classics of French literature. The book is but a
small one, not amounting in size to a single volume of a modern English
novel, and this must of itself have been no small novelty and relief after the
portentous bulk of the Scudéry romances. Its scene is laid at the court of
Henri II., and there is a certain historical basis; but the principal personages
are drawn from the author's own experience, herself being the heroine, her
husband the Prince of Clèves, and Rochefoucauld the Duke de Nemours,
while other characters are identified with Louis XIV. and his courtiers by
Page 353
industrious compilers of 'keys.' If, however, the interest of the book had
been limited to this it would now-a-days have lost all its attraction, or have
retained so much at most as is due to simple curiosity. But it has far higher
merits, and what may be called its court apparatus, and the multitude of
small details about court business, are rather drawbacks to it now. Such
charm as it has is derived from the strict verisimilitude of the character
drawing, and the fidelity with which the emotions are represented. This
interest may, indeed, appear thin to a modern reader fresh from the works of
those who have profited by two centuries of progress in the way which
Madame de la Fayette opened. But when it is remembered that her book
appeared thirty years before Gil Blas, forty before the masterpieces of
Defoe, and more than half a century before the English novel properly so
called made its first appearance, her right to the place she occupied will
hardly be contested[250].
The precise origin of the fancy for writing fairy stories, which took
possession of polite society in France at the end of the seventeenth century,
has been the subject of much discussion, and cannot be said to have been
finally settled. Probably the fables of La Fontaine, which are very closely
allied to the style, may have given the required impulse. As soon as an
example was set this style was seen to lend itself very well to the still
surviving fancy for coterie compositions, and the total amount of work of
the kind produced in the last years of the seventeenth and the first of the
eighteenth century must be enormous. Much of it has not yet been printed,
and the names of but few of the authors are generally known, or perhaps
worth knowing[251]. Three, however, emerge from the mass and deserve
attention—Anthony Hamilton, Madame d'Aulnoy, and above all, Charles
Perrault, the master beyond all comparison of the style.
Marie Catherine, Comtesse d'Aulnoy, was born about
the middle of the seventeenth century, and died in 1720. Fairy Tales.
It is sufficient to say that among her works are the
'Yellow Dwarf' and the 'White Cat,' stories which no doubt she did not
invent, but to which she has given their permanent and well-known form.
She wrote much else, memoirs and novels which were bad imitations of the
style of Madame de la Fayette, but her fairy tales alone are of value.
Anthony Hamilton was one of the rare authors who acquire a durable
reputation by writing in a language which is not their native tongue. He was
been limited to this it would now-a-days have lost all its attraction, or have
retained so much at most as is due to simple curiosity. But it has far higher
merits, and what may be called its court apparatus, and the multitude of
small details about court business, are rather drawbacks to it now. Such
charm as it has is derived from the strict verisimilitude of the character
drawing, and the fidelity with which the emotions are represented. This
interest may, indeed, appear thin to a modern reader fresh from the works of
those who have profited by two centuries of progress in the way which
Madame de la Fayette opened. But when it is remembered that her book
appeared thirty years before Gil Blas, forty before the masterpieces of
Defoe, and more than half a century before the English novel properly so
called made its first appearance, her right to the place she occupied will
hardly be contested[250].
The precise origin of the fancy for writing fairy stories, which took
possession of polite society in France at the end of the seventeenth century,
has been the subject of much discussion, and cannot be said to have been
finally settled. Probably the fables of La Fontaine, which are very closely
allied to the style, may have given the required impulse. As soon as an
example was set this style was seen to lend itself very well to the still
surviving fancy for coterie compositions, and the total amount of work of
the kind produced in the last years of the seventeenth and the first of the
eighteenth century must be enormous. Much of it has not yet been printed,
and the names of but few of the authors are generally known, or perhaps
worth knowing[251]. Three, however, emerge from the mass and deserve
attention—Anthony Hamilton, Madame d'Aulnoy, and above all, Charles
Perrault, the master beyond all comparison of the style.
Marie Catherine, Comtesse d'Aulnoy, was born about
the middle of the seventeenth century, and died in 1720. Fairy Tales.
It is sufficient to say that among her works are the
'Yellow Dwarf' and the 'White Cat,' stories which no doubt she did not
invent, but to which she has given their permanent and well-known form.
She wrote much else, memoirs and novels which were bad imitations of the
style of Madame de la Fayette, but her fairy tales alone are of value.
Anthony Hamilton was one of the rare authors who acquire a durable
reputation by writing in a language which is not their native tongue. He was
Page 354
born in Ireland in 1646, and followed the fortunes of the exiled royal
family. He returned with Charles II., but adhering to Catholicism, was
excluded from preferment in England until James II.'s reign, and he passed
most of his time before the Revolution, and all of it afterwards, in France.
Hamilton produced (besides many fugitive poems and minor pieces) two
books of great note in French, the Mémoires de Grammont, his brother-in-
law, which perhaps is the standard book for the manners of the court of
Charles II., and a collection of fairy tales, less simple than those of Perrault
and Madame d'Aulnoy and more subordinated to a sarcastic intention, but
full of wit and written in French, which is only more piquant for its very
slight touch of a foreign element. Many phrases of Hamilton's tales have
passed into ordinary quotation, notably 'Bélier, mon ami, tu me ferais plaisir
si tu voulais commencer par le commencement.'
The master of the style was, however, as has been said,
Charles Perrault, whose literary history was peculiar. He Perrault.
was born at Paris in 1628, being the son of Pierre
Perrault, a lawyer, who had three other sons, all of them of some
distinction, and one of them, Claude Perrault, famous in the oddly
conjoined professions of medicine and architecture. Charles was well
educated at the Collège de Beauvais, and at first studied law, but his father
soon afterwards bought a place of value in the financial department, and
Charles was appointed clerk in 1662. He received a curious and rather
nondescript preferment (as secretary to Colbert for all matters dependent on
literature and arts), which, among other things, enabled him to further his
brother's architectural career. In 1671 he was, under the patronage of
Colbert, elected of the Academy, into the affairs and proceedings of which
he imported order almost for the first time. He had done and for some time
did little in literature, being occupied by the duties which, under Colbert, he
had as controller of public works. But after a few essays in poetry, partly
burlesque and partly serious, notably a Siècle de Louis XIV., he embarked
on the rather unlucky work which gave him his chief reputation among his
own contemporaries, the Parallèle des Anciens et des Modernes, in which
he took the part of the moderns. The dispute which followed, due
principally to the overbearing rudeness of Boileau, has had something more
than its proper place in literary history, and there is no need to give an
account of it. It is enough to say that while Boileau as far as his knowledge
family. He returned with Charles II., but adhering to Catholicism, was
excluded from preferment in England until James II.'s reign, and he passed
most of his time before the Revolution, and all of it afterwards, in France.
Hamilton produced (besides many fugitive poems and minor pieces) two
books of great note in French, the Mémoires de Grammont, his brother-in-
law, which perhaps is the standard book for the manners of the court of
Charles II., and a collection of fairy tales, less simple than those of Perrault
and Madame d'Aulnoy and more subordinated to a sarcastic intention, but
full of wit and written in French, which is only more piquant for its very
slight touch of a foreign element. Many phrases of Hamilton's tales have
passed into ordinary quotation, notably 'Bélier, mon ami, tu me ferais plaisir
si tu voulais commencer par le commencement.'
The master of the style was, however, as has been said,
Charles Perrault, whose literary history was peculiar. He Perrault.
was born at Paris in 1628, being the son of Pierre
Perrault, a lawyer, who had three other sons, all of them of some
distinction, and one of them, Claude Perrault, famous in the oddly
conjoined professions of medicine and architecture. Charles was well
educated at the Collège de Beauvais, and at first studied law, but his father
soon afterwards bought a place of value in the financial department, and
Charles was appointed clerk in 1662. He received a curious and rather
nondescript preferment (as secretary to Colbert for all matters dependent on
literature and arts), which, among other things, enabled him to further his
brother's architectural career. In 1671 he was, under the patronage of
Colbert, elected of the Academy, into the affairs and proceedings of which
he imported order almost for the first time. He had done and for some time
did little in literature, being occupied by the duties which, under Colbert, he
had as controller of public works. But after a few essays in poetry, partly
burlesque and partly serious, notably a Siècle de Louis XIV., he embarked
on the rather unlucky work which gave him his chief reputation among his
own contemporaries, the Parallèle des Anciens et des Modernes, in which
he took the part of the moderns. The dispute which followed, due
principally to the overbearing rudeness of Boileau, has had something more
than its proper place in literary history, and there is no need to give an
account of it. It is enough to say that while Boileau as far as his knowledge
Page 355
went (and that was not far, for he knew nothing of English, not very much
of Greek, and it would seem little of Italian or Spanish) had the better case,
Perrault, assisted by his brother, made a good deal the best use of his
weapons, Boileau's unlucky 'Ode on Namur' giving his enemies a great hold
on him. After six years' fighting, however, the enemies made peace, and,
indeed, it does not seem that Perrault at any time bore malice. He produced,
besides some memoirs and the charming trifles to be presently spoken
of[252], a good many miscellanies in prose and verse of no particular value,
and died in 1703.
His first tale, Griselidis (in verse, and by no means his best), appeared in
1691, Peau d'Âne and Les Souhaits Ridicules in 1694, La Belle au Bois
Dormant in 1696, and the rest in 1697. These are Le Petit Chaperon Rouge,
La Barbe Bleue, Le Maître Chat ou le Chat Botté, Les Fées, Cendrillon,
Riquet à la Houppe, and Le Petit Poucet. It is needless to say that Perrault
did not invent the subjects of them. What he contributed was an admirable
and peculiar narrative style, due, as seems very probable, in great part to the
example of La Fontaine, but distinguished therefrom by all the difference of
verse and prose. The characteristics of this style are an extreme simplicity
which does not degenerate into puerility, great directness, and at the same
time vividness in telling the story, and a remarkable undercurrent of wit
which is never obtrusive, as is sometimes the case in the verse tales.
Perrault's stories deserve their immense popularity, and they found
innumerable imitators chiefly among persons of quality, who, as M. Honoré
Bonhomme, the best authority on the obscurer fairy-tale writers, observes,
probably found an attraction in the style because of the way in which it lent
itself to cover personal satire. This, however, is something of an abuse, and
little or nothing of it is discernible in Perrault's own work, though later, and
especially in the eighteenth century, it was frequently if not invariably
present.
Note to the last Three Chapters.
Although the list of names mentioned here under the respective heads of
poets, dramatists, and novelists is considerable, it is very far indeed from
being exhaustive. It may, indeed, be said generally that it is only possible in
this history, especially as we leave the invention of printing farther and
farther behind, to mention those names which have left something like a
of Greek, and it would seem little of Italian or Spanish) had the better case,
Perrault, assisted by his brother, made a good deal the best use of his
weapons, Boileau's unlucky 'Ode on Namur' giving his enemies a great hold
on him. After six years' fighting, however, the enemies made peace, and,
indeed, it does not seem that Perrault at any time bore malice. He produced,
besides some memoirs and the charming trifles to be presently spoken
of[252], a good many miscellanies in prose and verse of no particular value,
and died in 1703.
His first tale, Griselidis (in verse, and by no means his best), appeared in
1691, Peau d'Âne and Les Souhaits Ridicules in 1694, La Belle au Bois
Dormant in 1696, and the rest in 1697. These are Le Petit Chaperon Rouge,
La Barbe Bleue, Le Maître Chat ou le Chat Botté, Les Fées, Cendrillon,
Riquet à la Houppe, and Le Petit Poucet. It is needless to say that Perrault
did not invent the subjects of them. What he contributed was an admirable
and peculiar narrative style, due, as seems very probable, in great part to the
example of La Fontaine, but distinguished therefrom by all the difference of
verse and prose. The characteristics of this style are an extreme simplicity
which does not degenerate into puerility, great directness, and at the same
time vividness in telling the story, and a remarkable undercurrent of wit
which is never obtrusive, as is sometimes the case in the verse tales.
Perrault's stories deserve their immense popularity, and they found
innumerable imitators chiefly among persons of quality, who, as M. Honoré
Bonhomme, the best authority on the obscurer fairy-tale writers, observes,
probably found an attraction in the style because of the way in which it lent
itself to cover personal satire. This, however, is something of an abuse, and
little or nothing of it is discernible in Perrault's own work, though later, and
especially in the eighteenth century, it was frequently if not invariably
present.
Note to the last Three Chapters.
Although the list of names mentioned here under the respective heads of
poets, dramatists, and novelists is considerable, it is very far indeed from
being exhaustive. It may, indeed, be said generally that it is only possible in
this history, especially as we leave the invention of printing farther and
farther behind, to mention those names which have left something like a
Page 356
memory behind them. The dramas and novels of the seventeenth century are
extremely numerous, and have been but very partially explored. In regard to
the poems there is an additional difficulty. It was a fashion of the time to
collect such things in recueils—miscellaneous collections—in which the
work of very large numbers of writers, who never published their poems
separately or obtained after their own day any recognition as poets, is
buried. Specimens, published here and there by the laborious editors of the
greater classics in illustration of these latter, show that with leisure,
opportunity, and critical discernment, this little-worked vein might be
followed up not without advantage. But for such a purpose, as for the
similar exploration of many other out-of-the-way corners of this vast
literature, conditions are needed which are eminently 'the gift of fortune.'
These remarks apply more or less to all the following chapters and books of
this history. But they may find an appropriate place here, not merely
because it is from this period onwards that they are most applicable, but
because this special department of French literary history—the earlier
seventeenth century—contains, perhaps, the greatest proportion of this
wreckage of time as yet unrummaged and unsorted by posterity.
FOOTNOTES:
[242] Not du Tendre, as it is often erroneously cited in French and English
works.
[243] The learned editor of Tallemant des Réaux calls her Marie Hortense. She
also wrote verses and plays. There were many other romance writers of the
period now forgotten, or remembered only for other things, such as the Abbé
d'Aubignac.
[244] I cannot boast of an intimate or exhaustive acquaintance with the 'heroic'
romances; but I have taken care to satisfy myself of the accuracy of the
statements in the text.
[245] Ed. Dillaye. 2 vols. Paris, 1881.
[246] The full title is Histoire Comique des États de la Lune et du Soleil.
Cyrano's works have been edited by P. L. Jacob. 2 vols. Paris, 1858.
[247] Ed. Colombey. Paris, 1877.
[248] Ed. Jannet. 2 vols. Paris, 1878.
[249] Ed. Garnier. Paris, 1864.
extremely numerous, and have been but very partially explored. In regard to
the poems there is an additional difficulty. It was a fashion of the time to
collect such things in recueils—miscellaneous collections—in which the
work of very large numbers of writers, who never published their poems
separately or obtained after their own day any recognition as poets, is
buried. Specimens, published here and there by the laborious editors of the
greater classics in illustration of these latter, show that with leisure,
opportunity, and critical discernment, this little-worked vein might be
followed up not without advantage. But for such a purpose, as for the
similar exploration of many other out-of-the-way corners of this vast
literature, conditions are needed which are eminently 'the gift of fortune.'
These remarks apply more or less to all the following chapters and books of
this history. But they may find an appropriate place here, not merely
because it is from this period onwards that they are most applicable, but
because this special department of French literary history—the earlier
seventeenth century—contains, perhaps, the greatest proportion of this
wreckage of time as yet unrummaged and unsorted by posterity.
FOOTNOTES:
[242] Not du Tendre, as it is often erroneously cited in French and English
works.
[243] The learned editor of Tallemant des Réaux calls her Marie Hortense. She
also wrote verses and plays. There were many other romance writers of the
period now forgotten, or remembered only for other things, such as the Abbé
d'Aubignac.
[244] I cannot boast of an intimate or exhaustive acquaintance with the 'heroic'
romances; but I have taken care to satisfy myself of the accuracy of the
statements in the text.
[245] Ed. Dillaye. 2 vols. Paris, 1881.
[246] The full title is Histoire Comique des États de la Lune et du Soleil.
Cyrano's works have been edited by P. L. Jacob. 2 vols. Paris, 1858.
[247] Ed. Colombey. Paris, 1877.
[248] Ed. Jannet. 2 vols. Paris, 1878.
[249] Ed. Garnier. Paris, 1864.
Page 357
[250] Madame de la Fayette also wrote La Comtesse de Tende, and interesting
Memoirs of Henrietta of England. Zaïde was published under the name of
Segrais, who was a nouvelle-writer of no great merit, though a pleasant poet.
[251] See H. Bonhomme, Le Cabinet des Fées.
[252] Ed. Lefèvre. Paris, 1875. Ed. Lang. Oxford, 1888.
Memoirs of Henrietta of England. Zaïde was published under the name of
Segrais, who was a nouvelle-writer of no great merit, though a pleasant poet.
[251] See H. Bonhomme, Le Cabinet des Fées.
[252] Ed. Lefèvre. Paris, 1875. Ed. Lang. Oxford, 1888.
Page 358
CHAPTER IV.
HISTORIANS, MEMOIR-WRITERS, LETTER-WRITERS.
Although the seventeenth century did not witness the acceptance in France
of what may be called a philosophical conception of history, and though
few or none of the regular histories of the time (with the exception of that of
Mézeray) hold high rank as literature, no period was more fruitful in
memoirs, letters, and separate historical sketches of the first merit. The
names of Madame de Sévigné, of the Cardinal de Retz, of La
Rochefoucauld, and at the extreme end of the period of Saint Simon, rank
among those of the most original writers of France, while the historical
essay has rarely assumed a more thoroughly literary form than in the short
sketches of Retz, Sarrasin, and others. The subject of the present chapter
may, therefore, be divided into four parts, the historians properly so called
(the least interesting of the four), the historical essayists, the memoir-
writers, and the letter-writers, with an appendix of erudite cultivators of
historical science and of miscellaneous authors of historical gossip and
other matters.
[253]
It is said not unfrequently that the only historical
work of this particular period, combining magnitude of General Historians.
Mézeray.
subject with elevation and originality of thought and
literary excellence of expression, is Bossuet's discourse on universal history.
There is not a little truth in the saying. Still there are a few authors whose
work deserves mention. The great history of De Thou was written in Latin.
But the century produced in Mézeray's History of France the first attempt of
merit on the subject. François Eudes de Mézeray was the son of a surgeon,
who seems to have been of some means and position. Mézeray was
educated at Caen (he was born in 1610), and he early betook himself to
historical studies. After beginning by supervising a translated history of the
Turks, he set to work on his masterpiece, the History of France, which
appeared in three huge and splendid folios in 1643, 1646, and 1651. He was
accused of treating his predecessors with too great contempt; but this was
HISTORIANS, MEMOIR-WRITERS, LETTER-WRITERS.
Although the seventeenth century did not witness the acceptance in France
of what may be called a philosophical conception of history, and though
few or none of the regular histories of the time (with the exception of that of
Mézeray) hold high rank as literature, no period was more fruitful in
memoirs, letters, and separate historical sketches of the first merit. The
names of Madame de Sévigné, of the Cardinal de Retz, of La
Rochefoucauld, and at the extreme end of the period of Saint Simon, rank
among those of the most original writers of France, while the historical
essay has rarely assumed a more thoroughly literary form than in the short
sketches of Retz, Sarrasin, and others. The subject of the present chapter
may, therefore, be divided into four parts, the historians properly so called
(the least interesting of the four), the historical essayists, the memoir-
writers, and the letter-writers, with an appendix of erudite cultivators of
historical science and of miscellaneous authors of historical gossip and
other matters.
[253]
It is said not unfrequently that the only historical
work of this particular period, combining magnitude of General Historians.
Mézeray.
subject with elevation and originality of thought and
literary excellence of expression, is Bossuet's discourse on universal history.
There is not a little truth in the saying. Still there are a few authors whose
work deserves mention. The great history of De Thou was written in Latin.
But the century produced in Mézeray's History of France the first attempt of
merit on the subject. François Eudes de Mézeray was the son of a surgeon,
who seems to have been of some means and position. Mézeray was
educated at Caen (he was born in 1610), and he early betook himself to
historical studies. After beginning by supervising a translated history of the
Turks, he set to work on his masterpiece, the History of France, which
appeared in three huge and splendid folios in 1643, 1646, and 1651. He was
accused of treating his predecessors with too great contempt; but this was
Page 359
more than justified by the superiority, not merely in style but in historical
conception and attention to documentary evidence, which he showed.
Mézeray had been protected and pensioned by Richelieu, but under Mazarin
he became a violent pamphleteer and author of Mazarinades. Later, when
Louis XIV. was settled on the throne, he published an abridgment of his
own history, in which the keen scent of Colbert discovered uncourtly
strictures on the fiscal abuses of the kingdom. Mézeray refused to alter
them, and was mulcted accordingly of part of his pension. He died in 1683,
having earned the title of the first historian, worthy of the name, of France.
With due allowance for his period, he may challenge comparison with
almost any of his successors, though his style, excellent at its best, is
somewhat unequal. Péréfixe (who may have been assisted by Mézeray) is
responsible for a history of Henri IV.; Maimbourg for a history of the
League which has some interest for Englishmen because Dryden translated
it. The same great English writer projected but did not accomplish a
translation from a much more worthless historian, Varillas, who is notorious
among his class for indifference to accuracy. It is indeed curious that this
century, side by side with the most laborious investigators ever known,
produced a school of historians who, with some merits of style, were almost
deliberately unfaithful to fact. If the well-known saying ('Mon siége est
fait') attributed to the Abbé Vertot is not apocryphal[254], he must be ranked
in the less respectable class. But his well-known histories, the chief of
which is devoted to the Knights of Malta, were not wholly constructed on
this principle. Pellisson wrote a history of the Academy, of which he was
secretary, and one of the living Louis XIV., which, as might be expected, is
little more than an ingenious panegyric. The Père Daniel wrote a history of
France, the Père d'Orléans one of the English revolutions; while Rapin de
Thoyras, a Huguenot and a refugee, had the glory of composing in a foreign
language the first book deserving the title of a History of England. Superior
to all these writers, except to Mézeray, are the ecclesiastical historians
Fleury and Tillemont. Fleury was a good writer, very learned and
exceedingly fair. Tillemont, with less pretentions to style, is second to no
writer of history in learning, industry, accuracy, and judgment.
The historical essay, like much else of value at the time,
was in great part due to the mania for coteries. In these Historical Essayists.
select societies literature was the favourite occupation,
conception and attention to documentary evidence, which he showed.
Mézeray had been protected and pensioned by Richelieu, but under Mazarin
he became a violent pamphleteer and author of Mazarinades. Later, when
Louis XIV. was settled on the throne, he published an abridgment of his
own history, in which the keen scent of Colbert discovered uncourtly
strictures on the fiscal abuses of the kingdom. Mézeray refused to alter
them, and was mulcted accordingly of part of his pension. He died in 1683,
having earned the title of the first historian, worthy of the name, of France.
With due allowance for his period, he may challenge comparison with
almost any of his successors, though his style, excellent at its best, is
somewhat unequal. Péréfixe (who may have been assisted by Mézeray) is
responsible for a history of Henri IV.; Maimbourg for a history of the
League which has some interest for Englishmen because Dryden translated
it. The same great English writer projected but did not accomplish a
translation from a much more worthless historian, Varillas, who is notorious
among his class for indifference to accuracy. It is indeed curious that this
century, side by side with the most laborious investigators ever known,
produced a school of historians who, with some merits of style, were almost
deliberately unfaithful to fact. If the well-known saying ('Mon siége est
fait') attributed to the Abbé Vertot is not apocryphal[254], he must be ranked
in the less respectable class. But his well-known histories, the chief of
which is devoted to the Knights of Malta, were not wholly constructed on
this principle. Pellisson wrote a history of the Academy, of which he was
secretary, and one of the living Louis XIV., which, as might be expected, is
little more than an ingenious panegyric. The Père Daniel wrote a history of
France, the Père d'Orléans one of the English revolutions; while Rapin de
Thoyras, a Huguenot and a refugee, had the glory of composing in a foreign
language the first book deserving the title of a History of England. Superior
to all these writers, except to Mézeray, are the ecclesiastical historians
Fleury and Tillemont. Fleury was a good writer, very learned and
exceedingly fair. Tillemont, with less pretentions to style, is second to no
writer of history in learning, industry, accuracy, and judgment.
The historical essay, like much else of value at the time,
was in great part due to the mania for coteries. In these Historical Essayists.
select societies literature was the favourite occupation,
Page 360
and ingenuity was ransacked to discover forms of
composition admitting of treatment in brief space and of Saint Réal.
the display of literary skill. The personal 'portrait,' or
elaborate prose character, was of this kind, but the ambition of the
competitors soared higher than mere character-drawing. They sought for
some striking event, if possible contemporary, which offered, within
moderate compass, dramatic unity and scope for something like dramatic
treatment. Sometimes, as in the Relation du Passage du Rhin, by the Count
de Guiche, personal experiences formed the basis, but more frequently
passages in the recent history of other nations were chosen. Of this kind
was the Conspiration de Walstein of Sarrasin, which, though incomplete, is
admirable in style. Better still is the Conjuration de Fiesque of the Cardinal
de Retz, his first work, and one written when he was but seventeen. Not a
few of the scattered writings of Saint Evremond may be classed under this
head, notably the Letter to Créqui on the Peace of the Pyrenees, which was
the cause of his exile, though this was rather political than historical.
Towards the end of the century, the Abbé Vertot preluded his larger histories
by a short tract on the revolutions of Portugal, and another on those of
Sweden, which had both merit and success. It will be observed that
conspiracies, revolutions, and such-like events formed the staple subjects of
these compositions. Of this class was the masterpiece of the style—the only
one perhaps which as a type at least merits something more than a mere
mention—the Conjuration des Espagnols contre Venise[255] of Saint Réal, a
piece famous in French literature as a capital example of historical narration
on the small scale, and not unimportant to English literature as the basis of
Otway's principal tragedy. César Vichard, Abbé de Saint Réal, was born at
Chambéry in 1631, and died at the same place in 1692. He was sent early to
Paris, betook himself to historical studies, and published various works,
including certain discourses on history, a piece on Don Carlos, and the
Conjuration des Espagnols itself, which appeared in 1672. Shortly
afterwards he visited London, and was for a time a member of the coterie of
Saint Evremond and Hortense Mancini. He returned to Paris and thence, in
1679, to his native town, where the Duke of Savoy made him his
historiographer and a member of the Academy of Turin. Not long before his
death he was employed in political work. Saint Réal's chief characteristics
as a historian are the preference before everything else of a dramatic
conception and treatment, and the employment of a singularly vivid and
composition admitting of treatment in brief space and of Saint Réal.
the display of literary skill. The personal 'portrait,' or
elaborate prose character, was of this kind, but the ambition of the
competitors soared higher than mere character-drawing. They sought for
some striking event, if possible contemporary, which offered, within
moderate compass, dramatic unity and scope for something like dramatic
treatment. Sometimes, as in the Relation du Passage du Rhin, by the Count
de Guiche, personal experiences formed the basis, but more frequently
passages in the recent history of other nations were chosen. Of this kind
was the Conspiration de Walstein of Sarrasin, which, though incomplete, is
admirable in style. Better still is the Conjuration de Fiesque of the Cardinal
de Retz, his first work, and one written when he was but seventeen. Not a
few of the scattered writings of Saint Evremond may be classed under this
head, notably the Letter to Créqui on the Peace of the Pyrenees, which was
the cause of his exile, though this was rather political than historical.
Towards the end of the century, the Abbé Vertot preluded his larger histories
by a short tract on the revolutions of Portugal, and another on those of
Sweden, which had both merit and success. It will be observed that
conspiracies, revolutions, and such-like events formed the staple subjects of
these compositions. Of this class was the masterpiece of the style—the only
one perhaps which as a type at least merits something more than a mere
mention—the Conjuration des Espagnols contre Venise[255] of Saint Réal, a
piece famous in French literature as a capital example of historical narration
on the small scale, and not unimportant to English literature as the basis of
Otway's principal tragedy. César Vichard, Abbé de Saint Réal, was born at
Chambéry in 1631, and died at the same place in 1692. He was sent early to
Paris, betook himself to historical studies, and published various works,
including certain discourses on history, a piece on Don Carlos, and the
Conjuration des Espagnols itself, which appeared in 1672. Shortly
afterwards he visited London, and was for a time a member of the coterie of
Saint Evremond and Hortense Mancini. He returned to Paris and thence, in
1679, to his native town, where the Duke of Savoy made him his
historiographer and a member of the Academy of Turin. Not long before his
death he was employed in political work. Saint Réal's chief characteristics
as a historian are the preference before everything else of a dramatic
conception and treatment, and the employment of a singularly vivid and
Page 361
idiomatic style, simple in its vocabulary and phrase and yet in the highest
degree picturesque. He has been accused of following his master, Varillas,
in want of strict accuracy, but in truth strict accuracy was not aimed at by
any of these essayists. Their object was to produce a creditable literary
composition, to set forth their subject strikingly and dramatically, and to
point a moral of some kind. In all three respects their success was not
contemptible.
The memoir-writers proper, who confine themselves to
what they in their own persons have done, heard, or Memoir-writers.
thought, are, as has been said, of far more importance.
Their number is very great, and investigations into the Rohan
vast record treasures which, after revolutionary
devastation, France still possesses, is yearly increasing Bassompierre.
the knowledge of them. Only a brief account can here be
attempted of most of them; and where the historical importance of the
writer exceeds or equals his importance as a literary figure, biographical
details will be but sparingly given, as they are easily and more suitably to
be found elsewhere. The earliest writer who properly comes within our
century (the order of the collection of Michaud and Poujoulat is followed
for convenience sake) is François Duval, Marquis de Fontenay Mareuil.
Fontenay was a soldier, a courtier, and a diplomatist, in which last character
he visited England. He has left us connected memoirs from 1609 to 1624,
and some short accounts of later transactions, such as the siege of La
Rochelle, and his own mission to Rome. Fontenay is a simple and
straightforward writer, full of good sense, and not destitute of narrative
power. To Paul Phélypeaux de Pontchartrain (1566-1621) we owe a
somewhat jejune but careful and apparently faithful account of the minority
of Louis XIII. A short and striking relation of the downfall of Concini is
supposed to be the work of Michel de Marillac, keeper of the seals (1573-
1632), afterwards one of the victims of Richelieu. Henri de Rohan (1579-
1638) is very far superior to the writers just named. Of the greatest house,
save one or two, in France, he travelled much, distinguished himself in
battle, both in foreign and civil war; was once condemned to death, made
head for a time against all the strength of Richelieu; was near purchasing
the principality of Cyprus from the Venetians, and establishing himself in
the east; was recalled, commanded the French forces with brilliant success
degree picturesque. He has been accused of following his master, Varillas,
in want of strict accuracy, but in truth strict accuracy was not aimed at by
any of these essayists. Their object was to produce a creditable literary
composition, to set forth their subject strikingly and dramatically, and to
point a moral of some kind. In all three respects their success was not
contemptible.
The memoir-writers proper, who confine themselves to
what they in their own persons have done, heard, or Memoir-writers.
thought, are, as has been said, of far more importance.
Their number is very great, and investigations into the Rohan
vast record treasures which, after revolutionary
devastation, France still possesses, is yearly increasing Bassompierre.
the knowledge of them. Only a brief account can here be
attempted of most of them; and where the historical importance of the
writer exceeds or equals his importance as a literary figure, biographical
details will be but sparingly given, as they are easily and more suitably to
be found elsewhere. The earliest writer who properly comes within our
century (the order of the collection of Michaud and Poujoulat is followed
for convenience sake) is François Duval, Marquis de Fontenay Mareuil.
Fontenay was a soldier, a courtier, and a diplomatist, in which last character
he visited England. He has left us connected memoirs from 1609 to 1624,
and some short accounts of later transactions, such as the siege of La
Rochelle, and his own mission to Rome. Fontenay is a simple and
straightforward writer, full of good sense, and not destitute of narrative
power. To Paul Phélypeaux de Pontchartrain (1566-1621) we owe a
somewhat jejune but careful and apparently faithful account of the minority
of Louis XIII. A short and striking relation of the downfall of Concini is
supposed to be the work of Michel de Marillac, keeper of the seals (1573-
1632), afterwards one of the victims of Richelieu. Henri de Rohan (1579-
1638) is very far superior to the writers just named. Of the greatest house,
save one or two, in France, he travelled much, distinguished himself in
battle, both in foreign and civil war; was once condemned to death, made
head for a time against all the strength of Richelieu; was near purchasing
the principality of Cyprus from the Venetians, and establishing himself in
the east; was recalled, commanded the French forces with brilliant success
Page 362
in the Valtelline, and met his death under Bernhard of Saxe-Weimar at
Rheinfeld. Besides his memoirs he wrote a book called the Parfait
Capitaine, and some others. The memoirs extend from the death of Henri
IV. to the year 1629, and have all the vigour and brilliancy of the best
sixteenth-century work of the kind. A further account of the Valtelline
campaign is also most probably Rohan's, though it is not written in the first
person, and has been attributed to others. Of still greater personal interest
are the memoirs of François, Maréchal de Bassompierre, another of the
adversaries of Richelieu, and who, less fortunate than Rohan, languished
twelve years in the Bastille. Few persons played a more active part in the
first years of the reign of Louis XIII. than Bassompierre, and no one has left
a livelier description, not merely of his own personal fortunes, but of the
personality of his contemporaries, the habits and customs of the time, the
wars, the loves, the intrigues of himself, his friends and his enemies. He has
not the credit of being very accurate, but he is infinitely amusing. His
memoirs were written during his sojourn in the Bastille. This was
terminated by the death of Richelieu, but Bassompierre followed his enemy
before very long in consequence of an attack of apoplexy.
In singular contrast to Bassompierre's work are the memoirs of another
chronicler of the same time, François Annibal, Maréchal d'Estrées, brother
of the mistress of Henri IV. D'Estrées excludes all gossip, confines himself
strictly to matters of public business, and recounts them apparently with
scrupulous accuracy, and in a plain but clear and sufficient style. Among the
most curious and not the least interesting of the works of this class are the
memoirs of Pontis—one of the famous solitaries of Port Royal in his old
age. Pontis died at the age of eighty-seven, and had been for fifty-six years
in the army. His memoirs, which are strictly confined to his personal
experiences, obtained the approbation of two such undeniably competent
judges as Condé and Madame de Sévigné, and are by no means unworthy
of the honour. The actual composition of the memoirs is said to be the work
of Thomas du Fossé. The memoirs called Richelieu's are different from all
these, and, notwithstanding their great extent and the illustrious name they
bear, of very inferior interest, at least from the literary point of view.
Richelieu's talents, it is sufficiently notorious, were not literary; and even if
they had been, but little of these memoirs comes from his own hand. They
are the work of secretaries, confidants, and under-strappers of all sorts,
Rheinfeld. Besides his memoirs he wrote a book called the Parfait
Capitaine, and some others. The memoirs extend from the death of Henri
IV. to the year 1629, and have all the vigour and brilliancy of the best
sixteenth-century work of the kind. A further account of the Valtelline
campaign is also most probably Rohan's, though it is not written in the first
person, and has been attributed to others. Of still greater personal interest
are the memoirs of François, Maréchal de Bassompierre, another of the
adversaries of Richelieu, and who, less fortunate than Rohan, languished
twelve years in the Bastille. Few persons played a more active part in the
first years of the reign of Louis XIII. than Bassompierre, and no one has left
a livelier description, not merely of his own personal fortunes, but of the
personality of his contemporaries, the habits and customs of the time, the
wars, the loves, the intrigues of himself, his friends and his enemies. He has
not the credit of being very accurate, but he is infinitely amusing. His
memoirs were written during his sojourn in the Bastille. This was
terminated by the death of Richelieu, but Bassompierre followed his enemy
before very long in consequence of an attack of apoplexy.
In singular contrast to Bassompierre's work are the memoirs of another
chronicler of the same time, François Annibal, Maréchal d'Estrées, brother
of the mistress of Henri IV. D'Estrées excludes all gossip, confines himself
strictly to matters of public business, and recounts them apparently with
scrupulous accuracy, and in a plain but clear and sufficient style. Among the
most curious and not the least interesting of the works of this class are the
memoirs of Pontis—one of the famous solitaries of Port Royal in his old
age. Pontis died at the age of eighty-seven, and had been for fifty-six years
in the army. His memoirs, which are strictly confined to his personal
experiences, obtained the approbation of two such undeniably competent
judges as Condé and Madame de Sévigné, and are by no means unworthy
of the honour. The actual composition of the memoirs is said to be the work
of Thomas du Fossé. The memoirs called Richelieu's are different from all
these, and, notwithstanding their great extent and the illustrious name they
bear, of very inferior interest, at least from the literary point of view.
Richelieu's talents, it is sufficiently notorious, were not literary; and even if
they had been, but little of these memoirs comes from his own hand. They
are the work of secretaries, confidants, and under-strappers of all sorts,
Page 363
writing at most from the cardinal's dictation, and probably in many cases
merely constructing précis of documents. There is, therefore, no need to
dwell on them.
In the memoirs of Arnauld d'Andilly and of his son, the Abbé Arnauld, the
personal interest and the abundance of anecdote and character-drawing
which characterise the memoir work of the time reappear; the latter are,
indeed, particularly full of them. Those of the father are chiefly interesting,
as exhibiting the curious mixture of worldly and spiritual motives which
played so large a part in the history of the time. For Arnauld who was the
fervent friend and disciple of Saint Cyran, the practical founder of
Jansenism in France, was also an assiduous courtier of Gaston d'Orléans,
and not too well satisfied with the results of his courtiership. There are
memoirs attributed to Gaston himself, but they are almost certainly the
work of another hand; their historical value is not inconsiderable, but they
have little literary interest. Those of Marie, Duchess de Nemours, and
daughter of the Duke de Longueville, are short, but among the most
interesting of all those dealing with the Fronde, from the vividness and
decision of their personal traits.
More important still among the memoirs of this time are
those of Françoise Bertaut, Madame de Motteville, a Madame de
member of the family of the poet Bertaut. She was Motteville.
introduced by her mother, when very young, to Anne of Austria, and soon
became her most intimate confidante. The jealousy of Richelieu banished
her for a time from the court, and she married M. de Motteville, a man of
wealth and position in the civil service of the province of Normandy.
Shortly before Richelieu's death she lost her husband; and as soon as Anne
of Austria succeeded to the regency she was recalled to court, and spent her
time there during the queen's life. She survived her mistress many years,
and was a member of the society of Madame de Sévigné. She died in 1689.
Her memoirs, which were not published till many years after her death,
contain many curious revelations of the court history of the time, for she
was not only intimate with Anne of Austria, but also with the unfortunate
Henrietta Maria of England, and with La Grande Mademoiselle. With the
latter she interchanged some curious and characteristic letters on a fantastic
project of Mademoiselle's for founding a new abbey of Thelema. The
general style of her memoirs is sober and intelligent, but it is injured by the
merely constructing précis of documents. There is, therefore, no need to
dwell on them.
In the memoirs of Arnauld d'Andilly and of his son, the Abbé Arnauld, the
personal interest and the abundance of anecdote and character-drawing
which characterise the memoir work of the time reappear; the latter are,
indeed, particularly full of them. Those of the father are chiefly interesting,
as exhibiting the curious mixture of worldly and spiritual motives which
played so large a part in the history of the time. For Arnauld who was the
fervent friend and disciple of Saint Cyran, the practical founder of
Jansenism in France, was also an assiduous courtier of Gaston d'Orléans,
and not too well satisfied with the results of his courtiership. There are
memoirs attributed to Gaston himself, but they are almost certainly the
work of another hand; their historical value is not inconsiderable, but they
have little literary interest. Those of Marie, Duchess de Nemours, and
daughter of the Duke de Longueville, are short, but among the most
interesting of all those dealing with the Fronde, from the vividness and
decision of their personal traits.
More important still among the memoirs of this time are
those of Françoise Bertaut, Madame de Motteville, a Madame de
member of the family of the poet Bertaut. She was Motteville.
introduced by her mother, when very young, to Anne of Austria, and soon
became her most intimate confidante. The jealousy of Richelieu banished
her for a time from the court, and she married M. de Motteville, a man of
wealth and position in the civil service of the province of Normandy.
Shortly before Richelieu's death she lost her husband; and as soon as Anne
of Austria succeeded to the regency she was recalled to court, and spent her
time there during the queen's life. She survived her mistress many years,
and was a member of the society of Madame de Sévigné. She died in 1689.
Her memoirs, which were not published till many years after her death,
contain many curious revelations of the court history of the time, for she
was not only intimate with Anne of Austria, but also with the unfortunate
Henrietta Maria of England, and with La Grande Mademoiselle. With the
latter she interchanged some curious and characteristic letters on a fantastic
project of Mademoiselle's for founding a new abbey of Thelema. The
general style of her memoirs is sober and intelligent, but it is injured by the
Page 364
abundance of moral reflections, in matter according to the taste, but in
manner lacking much of the piquancy, of the time. These memoirs are
somewhat voluminous, and extend to the death of Anne of Austria. Madame
de Motteville, notwithstanding her affection for her mistress, is one of the
best authorities for the period of the Fronde, because, unlike Retz and La
Rochefoucauld, she was only secondarily interested in the events she
relates. Some curious details of the later Fronde are found in the short
memoirs of Père Berthod, of whom nothing is known. Of the Comte de
Brienne, who was a favourite and minister of Anne of Austria, and whose
book contains much information on foreign, and especially English affairs;
of Montrésor and Fontrailles, both followers of Gaston of Orléans, and the
latter the author of a relation of the Cinq Mars conspiracy, short, but minute
and striking; of La Châtre, an industrious courtier and intriguer, and a vivid
and picturesque writer, whose work, as will presently be mentioned, became
entangled in a strange fashion with that of La Rochefoucauld; of the great
Turenne, a worthy follower of Montluc and Rohan in the art of military
writing, little more than mention can be made. There are some military
memoirs of interest, which go under the name of the Duke of York (James
II).
The works and personages of some other writers demand
a fuller notice. Paul de Gondi[256], Cardinal de Retz, Cardinal de Retz.
who occupies with Saint Simon, and perhaps La
Rochefoucauld, the first place among French memoir-writers of the
seventeenth century, was born in 1614, and died in 1679. He was a younger
son of an ancient and noble house, uniting French and Italian honours, and
was early destined for the church, for which probably no churchman ever
had less vocation. He intrigued in society and politics, was a practised
duellist, and though he was not more than seven-or eight-and-twenty at
Richelieu's death, had already caballed against him. His appointment by
Louis XIII., almost on his deathbed, to the coadjutorship (involving the
reversion) of the archbishopric of Paris, which was then held by his uncle, a
very old man of no personal capacity or influence, put into his hands a
formidable political weapon, and he was not long in making use of it. He
was more than any other man the instigator of the Fronde, that singular
alliance of the privileged bourgeoisie of the great towns with the still more
privileged nobility against the royal authority as exercised through
manner lacking much of the piquancy, of the time. These memoirs are
somewhat voluminous, and extend to the death of Anne of Austria. Madame
de Motteville, notwithstanding her affection for her mistress, is one of the
best authorities for the period of the Fronde, because, unlike Retz and La
Rochefoucauld, she was only secondarily interested in the events she
relates. Some curious details of the later Fronde are found in the short
memoirs of Père Berthod, of whom nothing is known. Of the Comte de
Brienne, who was a favourite and minister of Anne of Austria, and whose
book contains much information on foreign, and especially English affairs;
of Montrésor and Fontrailles, both followers of Gaston of Orléans, and the
latter the author of a relation of the Cinq Mars conspiracy, short, but minute
and striking; of La Châtre, an industrious courtier and intriguer, and a vivid
and picturesque writer, whose work, as will presently be mentioned, became
entangled in a strange fashion with that of La Rochefoucauld; of the great
Turenne, a worthy follower of Montluc and Rohan in the art of military
writing, little more than mention can be made. There are some military
memoirs of interest, which go under the name of the Duke of York (James
II).
The works and personages of some other writers demand
a fuller notice. Paul de Gondi[256], Cardinal de Retz, Cardinal de Retz.
who occupies with Saint Simon, and perhaps La
Rochefoucauld, the first place among French memoir-writers of the
seventeenth century, was born in 1614, and died in 1679. He was a younger
son of an ancient and noble house, uniting French and Italian honours, and
was early destined for the church, for which probably no churchman ever
had less vocation. He intrigued in society and politics, was a practised
duellist, and though he was not more than seven-or eight-and-twenty at
Richelieu's death, had already caballed against him. His appointment by
Louis XIII., almost on his deathbed, to the coadjutorship (involving the
reversion) of the archbishopric of Paris, which was then held by his uncle, a
very old man of no personal capacity or influence, put into his hands a
formidable political weapon, and he was not long in making use of it. He
was more than any other man the instigator of the Fronde, that singular
alliance of the privileged bourgeoisie of the great towns with the still more
privileged nobility against the royal authority as exercised through
Page 365
ministers. The history of this confused and turbulent period is in great part
the biography of Retz. It is not easy to see that he had any definite political
views except the jealousy of Mazarin, which he shared with almost all his
order, an inveterate habit of insubordination, and a still more inveterate
habit of conspiracy. The Fronde was and could have been but a failure, and
Retz was a failure with it. He was for some time in exile, but at last
reconciled himself to the inevitable, and even enjoyed some public
employments under Louis XIV. His principal occupation, however, was the
payment of his enormous debts, which he effected with an honesty not
common at the time among his class by rigorously reducing his
expenditure, selling and mortgaging his numerous benefices, and, as
Madame de Sévigné put it, 'living for his creditors.' He is said thus to have
paid off four millions of francs, a vast sum for the time. Meanwhile he was
writing the Memoirs which, like the Maxims of his rival and half-enemy, La
Rochefoucauld, unexpectedly gained for him a higher reputation in
literature than he could have hoped for in politics. When a mere boy he had
shown in the Conjuration de Fiesque no small literary talent, and his
sermons deepened the impression. His Memoirs, however, are different in
style from both. They are addressed to a lady friend, and contain a most
extraordinary mixture of anecdote, description, personal satire, moral
reflection, and political portraiture. In the three points of anecdote, portrait-
drawing, and maxim-making, Retz has no rival except in the acknowledged
masters of each art respectively.
The Memoirs of Guy Joly, a lawyer and the friend and confidant of Retz, in
a manner supplement this latter's work. Joly was faithful to his master even
in exile, but at last they quarrelled, and the Memoirs do not always throw a
very favourable light on the proceedings of the turbulent cardinal. They are
very well written. Claude Joly, the uncle of Guy, an ecclesiastic, has also
left anti-Mazarin writings of less literary worth.
Of very great importance historically, and by no means
unimportant as literature, are the Memoirs of Pierre Mademoiselle.
Lenet, a man of business long attached to the house of
Condé. These memoirs are, in fact, memoirs of the great Condé himself,
until the peace of the Pyrenees. Personal and literary interest both appear in
a very high degree in the Memoirs of Anne Marie Louise de Montpensier,
commonly called La Grande Mademoiselle. The only daughter of Gaston of
the biography of Retz. It is not easy to see that he had any definite political
views except the jealousy of Mazarin, which he shared with almost all his
order, an inveterate habit of insubordination, and a still more inveterate
habit of conspiracy. The Fronde was and could have been but a failure, and
Retz was a failure with it. He was for some time in exile, but at last
reconciled himself to the inevitable, and even enjoyed some public
employments under Louis XIV. His principal occupation, however, was the
payment of his enormous debts, which he effected with an honesty not
common at the time among his class by rigorously reducing his
expenditure, selling and mortgaging his numerous benefices, and, as
Madame de Sévigné put it, 'living for his creditors.' He is said thus to have
paid off four millions of francs, a vast sum for the time. Meanwhile he was
writing the Memoirs which, like the Maxims of his rival and half-enemy, La
Rochefoucauld, unexpectedly gained for him a higher reputation in
literature than he could have hoped for in politics. When a mere boy he had
shown in the Conjuration de Fiesque no small literary talent, and his
sermons deepened the impression. His Memoirs, however, are different in
style from both. They are addressed to a lady friend, and contain a most
extraordinary mixture of anecdote, description, personal satire, moral
reflection, and political portraiture. In the three points of anecdote, portrait-
drawing, and maxim-making, Retz has no rival except in the acknowledged
masters of each art respectively.
The Memoirs of Guy Joly, a lawyer and the friend and confidant of Retz, in
a manner supplement this latter's work. Joly was faithful to his master even
in exile, but at last they quarrelled, and the Memoirs do not always throw a
very favourable light on the proceedings of the turbulent cardinal. They are
very well written. Claude Joly, the uncle of Guy, an ecclesiastic, has also
left anti-Mazarin writings of less literary worth.
Of very great importance historically, and by no means
unimportant as literature, are the Memoirs of Pierre Mademoiselle.
Lenet, a man of business long attached to the house of
Condé. These memoirs are, in fact, memoirs of the great Condé himself,
until the peace of the Pyrenees. Personal and literary interest both appear in
a very high degree in the Memoirs of Anne Marie Louise de Montpensier,
commonly called La Grande Mademoiselle. The only daughter of Gaston of
Page 366
Orleans and of the Duchess de Montpensier, she inherited enormous wealth,
and a position which made it difficult for her to marry any one but a
crowned head. In her youth she was self-willed, and by no means inclined
to marriage, and prince after prince was proposed to her in vain. During the
Fronde she took an extraordinary part—heading armies, mounting the walls
of Orleans by a scaling ladder, and saving the routed troops of Condé, after
the battle of the Faubourg Saint Antoine, by opening the gates of Paris to
them, and causing the cannon of the Bastille to cover their flight. Mazarin
never forgave her this, nor perhaps did Louis XIV. When she was past
middle age, Mademoiselle conceived an unfortunate affection for Lauzun,
then merely a gentleman of the South named Puyguilhem. By dint of great
entreaties she obtained permission from the king to marry him, but the
combined efforts of the queen and the princes of the blood caused this to be
rescinded, and Lauzun was imprisoned in Pignerol. After many years
Mademoiselle purchased his release by making over a great part of her
immense possessions to Louis' bastard, the Duke du Maine, and secretly
married her lover, who was not only younger than herself, but a notorious
adventurer. He was basely ungrateful, and she separated from him before
her death. Her memoirs, which are voluminous, contain a minute history of
her singular life, written with not a little egotism, but with all the vivacity
and individuality of savour which characterise the best work of the time.
Perhaps the most remarkable thing about them is that, although entirely
occupied with herself and her fortunes, Mademoiselle does not appear
either to exaggerate her own merits, or to disguise her faults. She
photographs herself, which is not common. Valentin Conrart, a man of
letters, who figures repeatedly in the history of the time, who was the real
founder of the Academy, who published but little in his lifetime, and who
has only recently been the subject of a sufficient study, left memoirs of no
great length, but of value in reference to the Fronde. The Marquis de
Montglat, of whom not much is known, wrote important military memoirs
of the latter portion of the Thirty Years' War, and of the campaigns between
France and Spain, which continued until the peace of the Pyrenees.
The Memoirs of La Rochefoucauld[257] would have
assured him a considerable place in the history of La Rochefoucauld.
literature, even had he never written the Maxims, and the
singular fate of these Memoirs would have deserved notice even had they
and a position which made it difficult for her to marry any one but a
crowned head. In her youth she was self-willed, and by no means inclined
to marriage, and prince after prince was proposed to her in vain. During the
Fronde she took an extraordinary part—heading armies, mounting the walls
of Orleans by a scaling ladder, and saving the routed troops of Condé, after
the battle of the Faubourg Saint Antoine, by opening the gates of Paris to
them, and causing the cannon of the Bastille to cover their flight. Mazarin
never forgave her this, nor perhaps did Louis XIV. When she was past
middle age, Mademoiselle conceived an unfortunate affection for Lauzun,
then merely a gentleman of the South named Puyguilhem. By dint of great
entreaties she obtained permission from the king to marry him, but the
combined efforts of the queen and the princes of the blood caused this to be
rescinded, and Lauzun was imprisoned in Pignerol. After many years
Mademoiselle purchased his release by making over a great part of her
immense possessions to Louis' bastard, the Duke du Maine, and secretly
married her lover, who was not only younger than herself, but a notorious
adventurer. He was basely ungrateful, and she separated from him before
her death. Her memoirs, which are voluminous, contain a minute history of
her singular life, written with not a little egotism, but with all the vivacity
and individuality of savour which characterise the best work of the time.
Perhaps the most remarkable thing about them is that, although entirely
occupied with herself and her fortunes, Mademoiselle does not appear
either to exaggerate her own merits, or to disguise her faults. She
photographs herself, which is not common. Valentin Conrart, a man of
letters, who figures repeatedly in the history of the time, who was the real
founder of the Academy, who published but little in his lifetime, and who
has only recently been the subject of a sufficient study, left memoirs of no
great length, but of value in reference to the Fronde. The Marquis de
Montglat, of whom not much is known, wrote important military memoirs
of the latter portion of the Thirty Years' War, and of the campaigns between
France and Spain, which continued until the peace of the Pyrenees.
The Memoirs of La Rochefoucauld[257] would have
assured him a considerable place in the history of La Rochefoucauld.
literature, even had he never written the Maxims, and the
singular fate of these Memoirs would have deserved notice even had they
Page 367
been far less intrinsically interesting in matter and style than they are. The
seventeenth century was the palmy time of literary piracy, and this piracy
was facilitated not merely by the absence of any international copyright, but
by the common habit of circulating books in manuscript long before their
appearance in print. They were thus copied and re-copied, and the number
of unauthorised duplicates made it impossible for the author to protect his
work. Not unfrequently the difficulties of authors were increased by the
custom (inherited from the middle ages) of simultaneously or rather
continuously transcribing different works in the same large notebook,
without any very scrupulous attention to their separate origin, plan, and
authorship. When La Rochefoucauld, after the conclusion of the Fronde and
the triumph of Mazarin, retired in dudgeon and disgrace to his estates, he
devoted himself to the writing of memoirs, and the fact soon became
known. He succeeded once in preventing an unauthorised publication at
Rouen. But the Elzevirs (who were as much princes of piracy as of printing)
were beyond his reach, and in 1662 there appeared a book purporting to be
the Memoirs of M. L. R. F. This book excited much indignation in the
persons commented upon, and La Rochefoucauld hastened to deny its
authenticity, alleging that but a fraction was his, and that garbled. His denial
was very partially credited, and has remained the subject of suspicion
almost to the present day. Probably, however, he was warned by the incident
of the danger of this sort of contemporary criticism, and no authentic
edition was issued. After his death a new turn of ill-luck befell him. A fresh
recension of the Memoirs was published, not indeed quite so incorrect as
the first, but still largely adulterated, nor was the injustice repaired until
1817, and then not entirely. It is only within the last few years that the
publication of the Memoirs from a manuscript in the possession of his
representatives has finally established the text, and that laborious enquiries
have demonstrated the conglomerate character of the early editions (which
were made up of the work of La Rochefoucauld, of La Châtre, of Vineuil,
and of several other people, even such well-known writers as Saint
Evremond being laid under contribution), and the justice of the author's
repudiation. The genuine Memoirs are, however, extremely interesting; they
are less full, and perhaps less absolutely frank than those of Retz, but they
yield to these alone of the Fronde chronicles in piquancy and interest, while
their purely literary merit is superior. The strange bird's-eye view of
conduct and motives which characterises the Maxims is already visible in
seventeenth century was the palmy time of literary piracy, and this piracy
was facilitated not merely by the absence of any international copyright, but
by the common habit of circulating books in manuscript long before their
appearance in print. They were thus copied and re-copied, and the number
of unauthorised duplicates made it impossible for the author to protect his
work. Not unfrequently the difficulties of authors were increased by the
custom (inherited from the middle ages) of simultaneously or rather
continuously transcribing different works in the same large notebook,
without any very scrupulous attention to their separate origin, plan, and
authorship. When La Rochefoucauld, after the conclusion of the Fronde and
the triumph of Mazarin, retired in dudgeon and disgrace to his estates, he
devoted himself to the writing of memoirs, and the fact soon became
known. He succeeded once in preventing an unauthorised publication at
Rouen. But the Elzevirs (who were as much princes of piracy as of printing)
were beyond his reach, and in 1662 there appeared a book purporting to be
the Memoirs of M. L. R. F. This book excited much indignation in the
persons commented upon, and La Rochefoucauld hastened to deny its
authenticity, alleging that but a fraction was his, and that garbled. His denial
was very partially credited, and has remained the subject of suspicion
almost to the present day. Probably, however, he was warned by the incident
of the danger of this sort of contemporary criticism, and no authentic
edition was issued. After his death a new turn of ill-luck befell him. A fresh
recension of the Memoirs was published, not indeed quite so incorrect as
the first, but still largely adulterated, nor was the injustice repaired until
1817, and then not entirely. It is only within the last few years that the
publication of the Memoirs from a manuscript in the possession of his
representatives has finally established the text, and that laborious enquiries
have demonstrated the conglomerate character of the early editions (which
were made up of the work of La Rochefoucauld, of La Châtre, of Vineuil,
and of several other people, even such well-known writers as Saint
Evremond being laid under contribution), and the justice of the author's
repudiation. The genuine Memoirs are, however, extremely interesting; they
are less full, and perhaps less absolutely frank than those of Retz, but they
yield to these alone of the Fronde chronicles in piquancy and interest, while
their purely literary merit is superior. The strange bird's-eye view of
conduct and motives which characterises the Maxims is already visible in
Page 368
them, as well as the profundity of insight which accompanies width of
range. The form is less finished, but its capacities are seen.
Jean Hérault de Gourville stood to La Rochefoucauld in something like the
relation which Guy Joly bore to Retz, but was far more fortunate. Born at
La Rochefoucauld, without any advantages of family or fortune, he began
as a domestic of its seigneur. He passed from this service to that of Condé
and Mazarin, held public employments which enriched him, became the
friend of Fouquet, and escaped the general ruin which fell on the
superintendent's friends at his fall, married, it is said, secretly a daughter of
the house where he had served in a menial capacity, was recalled
honourably to his country, discharged important political and diplomatic
offices, lived on equal terms with the greatest nobles of the court, and died
full of years, riches, and honours, in 1703. His Memoirs, which were
written but a short time before his death, were dictated to a secretary. They
are of a somewhat gossiping character, but full of curious information. The
so-called memoirs of Omer Talon are really accounts, written in a stilted
and professional style, of the proceedings of the Parliament of Paris. Henri
de Guise, the last, the least fortunate, but not the least remarkable of his
famous family, has left an account of the wild expedition which he made to
Naples at the time of the revolt of Masaniello, which is somewhat too long
for the subject. The Memoirs of the Maréchal de Grammont were composed
from his papers by his second son, Louvigny, afterwards Duke de
Grammont. The eldest son, Count de Guiche, the most accomplished
cavalier of the earlier court of Louis XIV., died before his father. Guiche left
a brilliant relation (written some say on the spot and at once) of the passage
of the Rhine, an exploit much exaggerated by the king's flatterers, but
which was really a brilliant feat of arms, and was mainly due to Guiche
himself. Like those of Grammont, the Memoirs of the Maréchal du Plessis
are not the work of the hero, but in this case a professional man of letters—
it is thought Segrais—seems to have been called in. Their somewhat stilted
regularity contrasts with the irregular vigour of most of the work mentioned
in this chapter. Some anonymous Mémoires pour servir à l'Histoire du
XVIIème Siècle, though evidently a compilation, are not destitute of literary
merit. They seem to be extracted for the most part from works already
mentioned. The Memoirs of La Porte, the valet de chambre of Anne of
Austria and the youthful Louis XIV., are rather important to history than to
range. The form is less finished, but its capacities are seen.
Jean Hérault de Gourville stood to La Rochefoucauld in something like the
relation which Guy Joly bore to Retz, but was far more fortunate. Born at
La Rochefoucauld, without any advantages of family or fortune, he began
as a domestic of its seigneur. He passed from this service to that of Condé
and Mazarin, held public employments which enriched him, became the
friend of Fouquet, and escaped the general ruin which fell on the
superintendent's friends at his fall, married, it is said, secretly a daughter of
the house where he had served in a menial capacity, was recalled
honourably to his country, discharged important political and diplomatic
offices, lived on equal terms with the greatest nobles of the court, and died
full of years, riches, and honours, in 1703. His Memoirs, which were
written but a short time before his death, were dictated to a secretary. They
are of a somewhat gossiping character, but full of curious information. The
so-called memoirs of Omer Talon are really accounts, written in a stilted
and professional style, of the proceedings of the Parliament of Paris. Henri
de Guise, the last, the least fortunate, but not the least remarkable of his
famous family, has left an account of the wild expedition which he made to
Naples at the time of the revolt of Masaniello, which is somewhat too long
for the subject. The Memoirs of the Maréchal de Grammont were composed
from his papers by his second son, Louvigny, afterwards Duke de
Grammont. The eldest son, Count de Guiche, the most accomplished
cavalier of the earlier court of Louis XIV., died before his father. Guiche left
a brilliant relation (written some say on the spot and at once) of the passage
of the Rhine, an exploit much exaggerated by the king's flatterers, but
which was really a brilliant feat of arms, and was mainly due to Guiche
himself. Like those of Grammont, the Memoirs of the Maréchal du Plessis
are not the work of the hero, but in this case a professional man of letters—
it is thought Segrais—seems to have been called in. Their somewhat stilted
regularity contrasts with the irregular vigour of most of the work mentioned
in this chapter. Some anonymous Mémoires pour servir à l'Histoire du
XVIIème Siècle, though evidently a compilation, are not destitute of literary
merit. They seem to be extracted for the most part from works already
mentioned. The Memoirs of La Porte, the valet de chambre of Anne of
Austria and the youthful Louis XIV., are rather important to history than to
Page 369
literature. Madame de la Fayette wrote Memoirs of Henrietta, the daughter
of Charles I., and the first wife of the Duke of Orleans, but they are not
equal to her novels in merit. The poet-Marquis La Fare began memoirs on
an extensive plan, but only completed a small part of them. Those of the
Duke of Berwick are justly considered models of simple straightforward
writing, of clear judgment, and of accurate statement. The Souvenirs of
Madame de Caylus had the honour of having Voltaire for their first editor,
and deserved it. They are purely personal, and might even be called
frivolous, were it not for the interest and historical importance of the society
whose manners they depict. The memoirs of Torcy give a clear and lucid
account of the negotiations in which that diplomatist was engaged. Last of
this long list come three works of value, the memoirs of Villars, Forbin, and
Duguay Trouin. The last two are among the somewhat rare records of
French prowess on sea. Both are somewhat boastful, and the memoirs of
Forbin, which are the longer and the more amusing of the two, are
suspected of some inaccuracy. They were not, it appears, the unaided work
of their nominal authors. The memoirs of Villars are of greater historical
importance, and of much literary interest.
A few authors, not included in the collection the order of
which has been followed, have now to be mentioned. Saint Simon.
Bussy Rabutin, cousin of Madame de Sévigné, and one
of the boldest, most unscrupulous, and most unlucky of aspirants after
fortune, has left a considerable number of letters and memoirs in which he
exposes his own projects and wrongs, and, above all, a kind of scandalous
chronicle called the Histoire Amoureuse des Gaules, in which gossip
against all the ladies of the court, not excepting his own relations and
friends, is pitilessly recorded. Bussy had many of the family qualities which
show themselves more amiably in the cousin whom he libelled. His literary
faculty was considerable, his brain fertile in invention, and his tongue witty
in expression; but he made no very good use of his powers. The Marquis de
Dangeau[258] has left an immense collection of memoirs, describing in the
minutest detail the etiquette of the court of Louis XIV. and all that happened
there for years; but he had hardly any faculty of writing, and his work,
except for its matter, is chiefly remarkable because of the contrast which it
presents to a book which deals with much the same subject, and which has
yet to be noticed. This book, with grave defects and inequalities, exhibits in
of Charles I., and the first wife of the Duke of Orleans, but they are not
equal to her novels in merit. The poet-Marquis La Fare began memoirs on
an extensive plan, but only completed a small part of them. Those of the
Duke of Berwick are justly considered models of simple straightforward
writing, of clear judgment, and of accurate statement. The Souvenirs of
Madame de Caylus had the honour of having Voltaire for their first editor,
and deserved it. They are purely personal, and might even be called
frivolous, were it not for the interest and historical importance of the society
whose manners they depict. The memoirs of Torcy give a clear and lucid
account of the negotiations in which that diplomatist was engaged. Last of
this long list come three works of value, the memoirs of Villars, Forbin, and
Duguay Trouin. The last two are among the somewhat rare records of
French prowess on sea. Both are somewhat boastful, and the memoirs of
Forbin, which are the longer and the more amusing of the two, are
suspected of some inaccuracy. They were not, it appears, the unaided work
of their nominal authors. The memoirs of Villars are of greater historical
importance, and of much literary interest.
A few authors, not included in the collection the order of
which has been followed, have now to be mentioned. Saint Simon.
Bussy Rabutin, cousin of Madame de Sévigné, and one
of the boldest, most unscrupulous, and most unlucky of aspirants after
fortune, has left a considerable number of letters and memoirs in which he
exposes his own projects and wrongs, and, above all, a kind of scandalous
chronicle called the Histoire Amoureuse des Gaules, in which gossip
against all the ladies of the court, not excepting his own relations and
friends, is pitilessly recorded. Bussy had many of the family qualities which
show themselves more amiably in the cousin whom he libelled. His literary
faculty was considerable, his brain fertile in invention, and his tongue witty
in expression; but he made no very good use of his powers. The Marquis de
Dangeau[258] has left an immense collection of memoirs, describing in the
minutest detail the etiquette of the court of Louis XIV. and all that happened
there for years; but he had hardly any faculty of writing, and his work,
except for its matter, is chiefly remarkable because of the contrast which it
presents to a book which deals with much the same subject, and which has
yet to be noticed. This book, with grave defects and inequalities, exhibits in
Page 370
the highest degree the merits of the class and period of literature which is
now under review. These are the skill shown by writers in no respect
professional, but trained to expression only by literary amusements and the
conversation of the salons; the keen insight into motive and character; the
intense interest and power of reflection with which contemporary events are
taken in and represented.
Louis de Rouvroy, Duke de Saint Simon[259], was born at La Ferté Vidame,
the family seat, in 1675. The family was of very great antiquity and
unblemished noblesse, claiming descent from Charlemagne; the dukedom
and the peerage—it is to be remembered that peerage in France has, or
rather had under the old régime, an entirely different sense from the modern
English sense, referring not in the least to the ennobling of the persons
enjoying it, but to their admission into a kind of great council of the
kingdom which had indeed long lost its active functions, but retained its
dignity—were conferred only on Saint Simon's father, a favourite and a
faithful servant of Louis XIII. His mother was Charlotte de l'Aubespine, of
a family which had much distinguished itself for several generations since
the days of Francis the First. Saint Simon was brought up by the Jesuits,
went to the wars in Flanders at the age of seventeen, and a year later
succeeded to the title and estates by the death of his father. Thus at the age
of eighteen he found himself in a position theoretically superior to every
man in France except the princes of the blood, and his few brother peers—
theoretically, for the rule of Louis did not admit of any real exercise of the
privileges of the peerage. Saint Simon, however, began at once to show his
devotion to the idol of his whole life—the status of his order—by going to
law with Luxembourg, the famous Marshal, on a question of precedence
and title of the most intricate kind. At the Peace of Ryswick he left the
army, to the displeasure of the king; but he was none the less constant at
court, though he could hardly be called a courtier, and though his inveterate
stickling for precedence frequently brought down the king's wrath on his
head. In 1705 he was made ambassador to Rome, but the appointment was
almost immediately cancelled. Many years later, however, a similar, but
greater, honour fell to his lot. The death of Louis put power into the hands
of Philippe d'Orléans, who was a friend of Saint Simon's, and the latter
enjoyed the greatest triumph of his life by bringing about the degradation of
the 'Bastards' (the illegitimate sons of Louis), on whom, to the indignation
now under review. These are the skill shown by writers in no respect
professional, but trained to expression only by literary amusements and the
conversation of the salons; the keen insight into motive and character; the
intense interest and power of reflection with which contemporary events are
taken in and represented.
Louis de Rouvroy, Duke de Saint Simon[259], was born at La Ferté Vidame,
the family seat, in 1675. The family was of very great antiquity and
unblemished noblesse, claiming descent from Charlemagne; the dukedom
and the peerage—it is to be remembered that peerage in France has, or
rather had under the old régime, an entirely different sense from the modern
English sense, referring not in the least to the ennobling of the persons
enjoying it, but to their admission into a kind of great council of the
kingdom which had indeed long lost its active functions, but retained its
dignity—were conferred only on Saint Simon's father, a favourite and a
faithful servant of Louis XIII. His mother was Charlotte de l'Aubespine, of
a family which had much distinguished itself for several generations since
the days of Francis the First. Saint Simon was brought up by the Jesuits,
went to the wars in Flanders at the age of seventeen, and a year later
succeeded to the title and estates by the death of his father. Thus at the age
of eighteen he found himself in a position theoretically superior to every
man in France except the princes of the blood, and his few brother peers—
theoretically, for the rule of Louis did not admit of any real exercise of the
privileges of the peerage. Saint Simon, however, began at once to show his
devotion to the idol of his whole life—the status of his order—by going to
law with Luxembourg, the famous Marshal, on a question of precedence
and title of the most intricate kind. At the Peace of Ryswick he left the
army, to the displeasure of the king; but he was none the less constant at
court, though he could hardly be called a courtier, and though his inveterate
stickling for precedence frequently brought down the king's wrath on his
head. In 1705 he was made ambassador to Rome, but the appointment was
almost immediately cancelled. Many years later, however, a similar, but
greater, honour fell to his lot. The death of Louis put power into the hands
of Philippe d'Orléans, who was a friend of Saint Simon's, and the latter
enjoyed the greatest triumph of his life by bringing about the degradation of
the 'Bastards' (the illegitimate sons of Louis), on whom, to the indignation
Page 371
of the peers, the king had bestowed the rank and precedence of princes of
the blood. In 1721 Saint Simon went on a special embassy to Spain to
arrange the double marriage of Louis XV. to the Infanta, and of the Prince
of the Asturias to the Regent's granddaughter. There he was made a grandee
of the first class. Soon after his return he gave up interference in public
affairs, but he lived for thirty years longer, writing incessantly, and died in
1755.
The history of his enormous literary productions is curious enough. Nothing
was published, and, from the personal nature of most of his work, nothing
could well be published, during his lifetime. He died intestate, and with no
immediate heirs, and opportunity was taken to impound the whole of his
manuscripts, amounting to hundreds of volumes. Extracts from the memoirs
were surreptitiously published from time to time during the eighteenth
century, but it was not till 1839 that the whole was fully and faithfully given
to the world. These memoirs, however, form relatively but a small part of
the vast mass of Saint Simon's manuscripts, though they fill twenty printed
volumes. Until very recently obstacles of a not very intelligible character
have been thrown in the way of publication by the French Foreign Office, to
which the MSS. belong; but at length these seem to have been overcome,
and three different workers, M. de Boislisle, M. Drumont, and M. Faugère,
have been engaged in editing or re-editing different parts of the total. The
minor works, however, from the specimens already published, would seem
to be of less interest than the memoirs; most of them bearing on the, to
Saint Simon, inexhaustible subject of the privileges of the peerage, and its
place in the hierarchy of government. To discuss these subjects would lead
us out of our way. It is sufficient to say that it is a great mistake to regard
Saint Simon as a mere selfish aristocrat in the cant sense. He would have
had the kingdom justly and wisely governed for the benefit of the whole
nation, but he regarded the nobility, and, above all, the peers, as the pre-
destined instruments of government. 'Much for the people, but nothing by
the people,' was his political motto.
The importance of Saint Simon in literature is, however, entirely
independent of his standpoint as a politician, though that standpoint was not
without influence on his literary characteristics. He is valuable to us as,
without exception, the most vivid and graphic painter of contemporary
history of the anecdotic kind in French or any other language. His style is
the blood. In 1721 Saint Simon went on a special embassy to Spain to
arrange the double marriage of Louis XV. to the Infanta, and of the Prince
of the Asturias to the Regent's granddaughter. There he was made a grandee
of the first class. Soon after his return he gave up interference in public
affairs, but he lived for thirty years longer, writing incessantly, and died in
1755.
The history of his enormous literary productions is curious enough. Nothing
was published, and, from the personal nature of most of his work, nothing
could well be published, during his lifetime. He died intestate, and with no
immediate heirs, and opportunity was taken to impound the whole of his
manuscripts, amounting to hundreds of volumes. Extracts from the memoirs
were surreptitiously published from time to time during the eighteenth
century, but it was not till 1839 that the whole was fully and faithfully given
to the world. These memoirs, however, form relatively but a small part of
the vast mass of Saint Simon's manuscripts, though they fill twenty printed
volumes. Until very recently obstacles of a not very intelligible character
have been thrown in the way of publication by the French Foreign Office, to
which the MSS. belong; but at length these seem to have been overcome,
and three different workers, M. de Boislisle, M. Drumont, and M. Faugère,
have been engaged in editing or re-editing different parts of the total. The
minor works, however, from the specimens already published, would seem
to be of less interest than the memoirs; most of them bearing on the, to
Saint Simon, inexhaustible subject of the privileges of the peerage, and its
place in the hierarchy of government. To discuss these subjects would lead
us out of our way. It is sufficient to say that it is a great mistake to regard
Saint Simon as a mere selfish aristocrat in the cant sense. He would have
had the kingdom justly and wisely governed for the benefit of the whole
nation, but he regarded the nobility, and, above all, the peers, as the pre-
destined instruments of government. 'Much for the people, but nothing by
the people,' was his political motto.
The importance of Saint Simon in literature is, however, entirely
independent of his standpoint as a politician, though that standpoint was not
without influence on his literary characteristics. He is valuable to us as,
without exception, the most vivid and graphic painter of contemporary
history of the anecdotic kind in French or any other language. His style is
Page 372
incorrect, and sometimes barely grammatical, and all his work bears the
character of notes, hurriedly dashed off, rather than of a finished and
regularly arranged history. Opinions differ as to his trustworthiness in
matters of fact, but it is certain, from his positive manner of recounting the
incidents and the actual words of interviews at which he could not have
been present, and as to which he is not likely to have had more than hearsay
information, that his testimony is to be received with caution. His
prejudices, too, were extraordinarily strong, and he is in the habit of
representing everything and everybody that he does not like in the blackest
possible colours. His furious denunciation thus makes a curious contrast to
the good-humoured malice of the author with whom he is most likely to be
compared—Madame de Sévigné. But all these drawbacks affect only the
matter, not the manner of his work. The picture which he has given of the
inner life of the court of Versailles during the later years of Louis XIV. is
unrivalled in history. Still more extraordinary is the power of single
passages, such especially as the famous one describing the Dauphin's death.
Saint Simon has often been compared to Tacitus, but his torrent of words
very little resembles the laconic incisiveness of the Roman. A much nearer
parallel, though with remarkable differences, might be found in the late Mr.
Carlyle.
Some memoirs of great extent and interest, valuable as checking Saint
Simon and Dangeau (whom Saint Simon annotated), have recently
appeared for the first time, at least in a form that is to be complete. They are
the work of the Marquis de Sourches[260], a great court officer, and they
cover the last thirty years of Louis's reign. Their chief literary peculiarity is
the formal and almost official character of the text contrasted with the
greater freedom of the numerous notes.
The most famous and remarkable of all the letter-writers
of the time—perhaps the most famous and remarkable of Madame de
Sévigné.
all letter-writers in literature—was Marie de Rabutin-
Chantal, Marquise de Sévigné[261]. She was born at Paris on the 6th of
February, 1626, and died at Grignan, of small-pox, on the 10th of August,
1696. Her family was a distinguished one both in war and other ways. Her
grandmother was the well-known Sainte Chantal, the pupil of St. François
de Sales, and her first cousin, as has been mentioned, was Bussy Rabutin.
Her father and mother both died when she was very young, and an uncle,
character of notes, hurriedly dashed off, rather than of a finished and
regularly arranged history. Opinions differ as to his trustworthiness in
matters of fact, but it is certain, from his positive manner of recounting the
incidents and the actual words of interviews at which he could not have
been present, and as to which he is not likely to have had more than hearsay
information, that his testimony is to be received with caution. His
prejudices, too, were extraordinarily strong, and he is in the habit of
representing everything and everybody that he does not like in the blackest
possible colours. His furious denunciation thus makes a curious contrast to
the good-humoured malice of the author with whom he is most likely to be
compared—Madame de Sévigné. But all these drawbacks affect only the
matter, not the manner of his work. The picture which he has given of the
inner life of the court of Versailles during the later years of Louis XIV. is
unrivalled in history. Still more extraordinary is the power of single
passages, such especially as the famous one describing the Dauphin's death.
Saint Simon has often been compared to Tacitus, but his torrent of words
very little resembles the laconic incisiveness of the Roman. A much nearer
parallel, though with remarkable differences, might be found in the late Mr.
Carlyle.
Some memoirs of great extent and interest, valuable as checking Saint
Simon and Dangeau (whom Saint Simon annotated), have recently
appeared for the first time, at least in a form that is to be complete. They are
the work of the Marquis de Sourches[260], a great court officer, and they
cover the last thirty years of Louis's reign. Their chief literary peculiarity is
the formal and almost official character of the text contrasted with the
greater freedom of the numerous notes.
The most famous and remarkable of all the letter-writers
of the time—perhaps the most famous and remarkable of Madame de
Sévigné.
all letter-writers in literature—was Marie de Rabutin-
Chantal, Marquise de Sévigné[261]. She was born at Paris on the 6th of
February, 1626, and died at Grignan, of small-pox, on the 10th of August,
1696. Her family was a distinguished one both in war and other ways. Her
grandmother was the well-known Sainte Chantal, the pupil of St. François
de Sales, and her first cousin, as has been mentioned, was Bussy Rabutin.
Her father and mother both died when she was very young, and an uncle,
Page 373
not more than twenty years older than herself, the Abbé de Coulanges, took
charge of her, remaining, for the greater part of her life, her chief friend and
counsellor. She soon became a great beauty, and something of a scholar,
though not of a blue-stocking. Ménage and Chapelain had, among others,
much to do with her education, and she was a member of the celebrated
coterie of the Hôtel Rambouillet, though her satirical humour saved her
from being a précieuse. At the age of eighteen she married the Marquis de
Sévigné, of a good and wealthy Breton family. Her husband was, however,
a selfish profligate, who wasted her substance with Ninon de l'Enclos, and
such-like persons,—though Ninon herself, to do her justice, never
plundered her lovers,—and did not pretend the slightest return for the
affection she gave him. He was killed in a duel in 1651, leaving her with
two children, a daughter, Françoise Marguerite, and a son Charles. After a
few years of seclusion she returned to the world, being then in the full
possession of her beauty, and only twenty-eight years old. She continued for
more than forty years to form part of the best society of the capital, without
suffering the least stain on her reputation. The selfish vanity of the
superintendent Fouquet made him keep certain of her letters; but though
they were discovered in a casket which was fatal to many of his friends of
both sexes, Madame de Sévigné came scathless out of the ordeal. In 1669
her daughter, then twenty-two years old, married the Count de Grignan, a
Provençal gentleman of the noblest birth, of great estate, rank, and fortune,
but already twice a widower, past middle age, plain, and of somewhat
embarrassed means, considering the great expenses which, as Governor of
Provence, he had to meet. He was, however, a man of good sense and
probity, and his wife seems to have been sincerely attached to him. The
great bulk of Madame de Sévigné's voluminous correspondence was
addressed to her daughter, for whom she had an almost frantic fondness;
Charles de Sévigné, though apparently far the more lovable of the two,
having but an inferior share of his mother's affection. The letters to Madame
de Grignan are for the most part dated either from Paris (in which case they
are full of court news and gossip), or from Les Rochers, the country seat of
the Sévignés, near Vitré, in which case they are full of social satire and
curious details of the provincial life of that time. One very interesting series
describes the habits and regimen of Vichy, which Madame de Sévigné
visited in consequence of a severe attack of rheumatism. The
correspondence thus serves as a minute and detailed history of the author
charge of her, remaining, for the greater part of her life, her chief friend and
counsellor. She soon became a great beauty, and something of a scholar,
though not of a blue-stocking. Ménage and Chapelain had, among others,
much to do with her education, and she was a member of the celebrated
coterie of the Hôtel Rambouillet, though her satirical humour saved her
from being a précieuse. At the age of eighteen she married the Marquis de
Sévigné, of a good and wealthy Breton family. Her husband was, however,
a selfish profligate, who wasted her substance with Ninon de l'Enclos, and
such-like persons,—though Ninon herself, to do her justice, never
plundered her lovers,—and did not pretend the slightest return for the
affection she gave him. He was killed in a duel in 1651, leaving her with
two children, a daughter, Françoise Marguerite, and a son Charles. After a
few years of seclusion she returned to the world, being then in the full
possession of her beauty, and only twenty-eight years old. She continued for
more than forty years to form part of the best society of the capital, without
suffering the least stain on her reputation. The selfish vanity of the
superintendent Fouquet made him keep certain of her letters; but though
they were discovered in a casket which was fatal to many of his friends of
both sexes, Madame de Sévigné came scathless out of the ordeal. In 1669
her daughter, then twenty-two years old, married the Count de Grignan, a
Provençal gentleman of the noblest birth, of great estate, rank, and fortune,
but already twice a widower, past middle age, plain, and of somewhat
embarrassed means, considering the great expenses which, as Governor of
Provence, he had to meet. He was, however, a man of good sense and
probity, and his wife seems to have been sincerely attached to him. The
great bulk of Madame de Sévigné's voluminous correspondence was
addressed to her daughter, for whom she had an almost frantic fondness;
Charles de Sévigné, though apparently far the more lovable of the two,
having but an inferior share of his mother's affection. The letters to Madame
de Grignan are for the most part dated either from Paris (in which case they
are full of court news and gossip), or from Les Rochers, the country seat of
the Sévignés, near Vitré, in which case they are full of social satire and
curious details of the provincial life of that time. One very interesting series
describes the habits and regimen of Vichy, which Madame de Sévigné
visited in consequence of a severe attack of rheumatism. The
correspondence thus serves as a minute and detailed history of the author
Page 374
for the last thirty years of her life, except during her rare visits to Grignan,
in one of which, as has been mentioned, she caught the illness which proved
fatal to her.
It has been said that Madame de Sévigné's letters are very numerous. Those
to her daughter especially were garbled in the earlier editions by omissions,
and by the substitution of phrases which seemed to the 18th century more
suitable than the fresh nature of the originals. The edition cited gives the
extant MSS. faithfully. The enthusiastic affection lavished by the mother on
the daughter naturally commends itself differently to different persons. It is
certain that if it is not tedious, it is only due to the extraordinary literary art
of the writer, an art which is at once the most artful and the most artless to
be anywhere found. The only other faults of the letters are an occasional
crudity of diction (which, however, is, when rightly taken, perfectly
innocent and even valuable as exemplifying the manners of the time,) and a
decided heartlessness in relating the misfortunes of all those in whom the
writer is not personally interested. Madame de Sévigné has been blamed for
not sympathising more with the oppression of the French people during her
time. This, however, is an unfair charge. In the first place she simply
expresses the current political ideas of her day, and, in the second place, she
goes decidedly beyond those ideas in the direction of sympathy. Her
treatment of some of her own equals leaves much more to desire. The
account of Madame de Brinvilliers' sufferings—unworthy of much pity as
the victim was—is callous to brutality, and it seems to be sufficient for any
one to have ever offended Madame de Grignan, or to have spoken
slightingly of her, to put him, or her, out of the pale of even ordinary human
sympathy. But no other fault can be found. For vivid social portraiture the
book equals Saint Simon at his best, while it is far more uniformly good.
The letters describing the engagement of La Grande Mademoiselle to
Lauzun, the death of Vatel, the trial of Fouquet, the Vichy sojourn, the
meeting of the states of Britanny, and many others, are not to be surpassed
in this respect. Unlike Saint Simon, too, Madame de Sévigné has no fixed
idea—except that of Madame de Grignan's perfections, which rarely
interferes—to prevent her from taking fresh, original, and acute views of
things in general as distinguished from mere court intrigues. Her literary
criticism is excellent, and if she somewhat overvalues moralists like Nicole
and novelists like Mademoiselle de Scudéry, who ministered to her peculiar
in one of which, as has been mentioned, she caught the illness which proved
fatal to her.
It has been said that Madame de Sévigné's letters are very numerous. Those
to her daughter especially were garbled in the earlier editions by omissions,
and by the substitution of phrases which seemed to the 18th century more
suitable than the fresh nature of the originals. The edition cited gives the
extant MSS. faithfully. The enthusiastic affection lavished by the mother on
the daughter naturally commends itself differently to different persons. It is
certain that if it is not tedious, it is only due to the extraordinary literary art
of the writer, an art which is at once the most artful and the most artless to
be anywhere found. The only other faults of the letters are an occasional
crudity of diction (which, however, is, when rightly taken, perfectly
innocent and even valuable as exemplifying the manners of the time,) and a
decided heartlessness in relating the misfortunes of all those in whom the
writer is not personally interested. Madame de Sévigné has been blamed for
not sympathising more with the oppression of the French people during her
time. This, however, is an unfair charge. In the first place she simply
expresses the current political ideas of her day, and, in the second place, she
goes decidedly beyond those ideas in the direction of sympathy. Her
treatment of some of her own equals leaves much more to desire. The
account of Madame de Brinvilliers' sufferings—unworthy of much pity as
the victim was—is callous to brutality, and it seems to be sufficient for any
one to have ever offended Madame de Grignan, or to have spoken
slightingly of her, to put him, or her, out of the pale of even ordinary human
sympathy. But no other fault can be found. For vivid social portraiture the
book equals Saint Simon at his best, while it is far more uniformly good.
The letters describing the engagement of La Grande Mademoiselle to
Lauzun, the death of Vatel, the trial of Fouquet, the Vichy sojourn, the
meeting of the states of Britanny, and many others, are not to be surpassed
in this respect. Unlike Saint Simon, too, Madame de Sévigné has no fixed
idea—except that of Madame de Grignan's perfections, which rarely
interferes—to prevent her from taking fresh, original, and acute views of
things in general as distinguished from mere court intrigues. Her literary
criticism is excellent, and if she somewhat overvalues moralists like Nicole
and novelists like Mademoiselle de Scudéry, who ministered to her peculiar
Page 375
tastes, her remarks on the great preachers, on La Fontaine, on Corneille and
Racine, display a singular insight as well as a singular power of expression.
She is, indeed, except in politics, on which few persons of her class had at
the time any clear or distinct ideas, never superficial; and this union of just
thought with accurate observation and exceptional power of expression
makes her position in literature.
Madame de Sévigné, so to speak, dwarfs all other letter-
writers of her time. Yet many of those already mentioned Tallemant des
under the head of memoirs left letters which have been Réaux.
preserved, and which are of merit. It is, however, not necessary to specify
any except Madame de Maintenon, whose correspondence is voluminous
and important both as history and as literature. It has not the charm of
Madame de Sévigné, but it displays the great intellectual powers of the
writer[262]. Of a very different kind, but not less worthy of notice are the
letters of Guy Patin, which are for the most part violent Mazarinades, and
full of scandalous anecdotes, but full also of lively wit. Scandal, indeed,
was very much the order of the day, as appears from the large and curious
collection of broadsheets and pamphlets republished by the late M. Fournier
in his Variétés Historiques et Littéraires[263]. These, most of which refer to
the present period, form a kind of appendix to historical and biographical
writing of the more serious kind. There is, however, one remarkable work
which remains to be noticed, and which, for want of a better place for it,
must be noticed here, the Historiettes of Tallemant des Réaux[264]. The
author of this singular book, Gédéon Tallemant des Réaux, was born at La
Rochelle about 1619, and died in 1692. He was of a family not noble but
wealthy and well connected, and he himself was able, by marriage with a
cousin who was an heiress, to live without any profession, and to purchase
an estate and seignory of some importance. Little, however, is known of his
life except that he was much at the Hôtel de Rambouillet in his youth, and
that in his old age he underwent some not clearly defined misfortune or
disgrace. The Historiettes were written in the years immediately preceding
1660, and form an almost complete commentary on the persons most
celebrated in society and literature for three quarters of a century before that
date. There is no other book to which they can be exactly compared, though
they have, with much less literary excellence, a certain resemblance in form
to the work of Brantôme. They are, as published by Monmerqué, 376 in
Racine, display a singular insight as well as a singular power of expression.
She is, indeed, except in politics, on which few persons of her class had at
the time any clear or distinct ideas, never superficial; and this union of just
thought with accurate observation and exceptional power of expression
makes her position in literature.
Madame de Sévigné, so to speak, dwarfs all other letter-
writers of her time. Yet many of those already mentioned Tallemant des
under the head of memoirs left letters which have been Réaux.
preserved, and which are of merit. It is, however, not necessary to specify
any except Madame de Maintenon, whose correspondence is voluminous
and important both as history and as literature. It has not the charm of
Madame de Sévigné, but it displays the great intellectual powers of the
writer[262]. Of a very different kind, but not less worthy of notice are the
letters of Guy Patin, which are for the most part violent Mazarinades, and
full of scandalous anecdotes, but full also of lively wit. Scandal, indeed,
was very much the order of the day, as appears from the large and curious
collection of broadsheets and pamphlets republished by the late M. Fournier
in his Variétés Historiques et Littéraires[263]. These, most of which refer to
the present period, form a kind of appendix to historical and biographical
writing of the more serious kind. There is, however, one remarkable work
which remains to be noticed, and which, for want of a better place for it,
must be noticed here, the Historiettes of Tallemant des Réaux[264]. The
author of this singular book, Gédéon Tallemant des Réaux, was born at La
Rochelle about 1619, and died in 1692. He was of a family not noble but
wealthy and well connected, and he himself was able, by marriage with a
cousin who was an heiress, to live without any profession, and to purchase
an estate and seignory of some importance. Little, however, is known of his
life except that he was much at the Hôtel de Rambouillet in his youth, and
that in his old age he underwent some not clearly defined misfortune or
disgrace. The Historiettes were written in the years immediately preceding
1660, and form an almost complete commentary on the persons most
celebrated in society and literature for three quarters of a century before that
date. There is no other book to which they can be exactly compared, though
they have, with much less literary excellence, a certain resemblance in form
to the work of Brantôme. They are, as published by Monmerqué, 376 in
Page 376
number, filling five (nominally ten) stout volumes. Each is as a rule headed
with the name of a single person, though there are a few general or subject
headings. The articles themselves are not regular biographies, but
collections of anecdotes, not unfrequently of the most scandalous kind.
Tallemant, though by no means of small ability, appears to have been a
somewhat malicious person, and not too careful to examine the value of the
stories he tells, especially when they bear heavily on the old nobility, of
whom, as a new man, he was very jealous. Yet his sources of information
were in many cases good, and his statements are confirmed by independent
evidence sufficiently often to show that, if they are in other cases to be
accepted with caution, they are not the work of a mere libeller. No one,
even in that century of unstinted personal revelations, has taken us so much
behind the scenes, and certainly no one has left a more amusing book of its
kind or (with the proper precautions) a more valuable one.
The class of learned investigators into the sources of
history cannot be omitted in any account of French Historical
Antiquaries.
literature; though their work was chiefly in Latin, and
though even when it was not it was rather of value as
material for future literature than as literature itself. This Du Cange.
century and the earlier part of the succeeding one were the palmy time of
really laborious erudition—the work of the Benedictines and Bollandists,
and of many isolated writers worthy of being ranked with the members of
these famous communities. The individuals composing this class are,
however, too numerous, and, from the purely literary view, too unimportant
to detain us. Exceptions may be made in favour of André Duchesne, whose
collections of French and Norman Chronicles, and his genealogical
histories of the houses of Laval and Vergi, are valuable examples of their
kind; of Mabillon, famous for his labours in hagiology, in the history of
France, and above all in that of Italy; and lastly, of Du Cange. The last-
named has a special right to a place here because, both directly and
indirectly, he did much towards the rediscovery of old French literature. Du
Cange was his seignorial style, his personal name being Charles Dufresne.
He devoted himself to the study of the middle ages generally, and
particularly of the Byzantine Empire. He edited Joinville, wrote a history of
the Latin Empire, and in his most famous work, the Glossarium Mediae et
with the name of a single person, though there are a few general or subject
headings. The articles themselves are not regular biographies, but
collections of anecdotes, not unfrequently of the most scandalous kind.
Tallemant, though by no means of small ability, appears to have been a
somewhat malicious person, and not too careful to examine the value of the
stories he tells, especially when they bear heavily on the old nobility, of
whom, as a new man, he was very jealous. Yet his sources of information
were in many cases good, and his statements are confirmed by independent
evidence sufficiently often to show that, if they are in other cases to be
accepted with caution, they are not the work of a mere libeller. No one,
even in that century of unstinted personal revelations, has taken us so much
behind the scenes, and certainly no one has left a more amusing book of its
kind or (with the proper precautions) a more valuable one.
The class of learned investigators into the sources of
history cannot be omitted in any account of French Historical
Antiquaries.
literature; though their work was chiefly in Latin, and
though even when it was not it was rather of value as
material for future literature than as literature itself. This Du Cange.
century and the earlier part of the succeeding one were the palmy time of
really laborious erudition—the work of the Benedictines and Bollandists,
and of many isolated writers worthy of being ranked with the members of
these famous communities. The individuals composing this class are,
however, too numerous, and, from the purely literary view, too unimportant
to detain us. Exceptions may be made in favour of André Duchesne, whose
collections of French and Norman Chronicles, and his genealogical
histories of the houses of Laval and Vergi, are valuable examples of their
kind; of Mabillon, famous for his labours in hagiology, in the history of
France, and above all in that of Italy; and lastly, of Du Cange. The last-
named has a special right to a place here because, both directly and
indirectly, he did much towards the rediscovery of old French literature. Du
Cange was his seignorial style, his personal name being Charles Dufresne.
He devoted himself to the study of the middle ages generally, and
particularly of the Byzantine Empire. He edited Joinville, wrote a history of
the Latin Empire, and in his most famous work, the Glossarium Mediae et
Page 377
Infimae Latinitatis, contributed not a little to the study of the oldest form of
French.
FOOTNOTES:
[253] The following paragraph contains, except as far as Mézeray is concerned,
chiefly second-hand information. I have hitherto been unable to devote the time
necessary to enable me to speak at first hand of these books, which are very
bulky, not as a rule interesting or important in manner, and for the most part long
obsolete in matter.
[254] The legend, familiar probably to most readers, is that Vertot required
documents for his account of a certain military operation. Tired with waiting for
them, he constructed the history out of his own head, and when they arrived
made the ejaculation in the text.
[255] This, with some other of the pieces here mentioned, will be found in two
volumes of the Collection Didot, entitled Petits Chefs d'œuvre Historiques.
[256] Ed. Feillet, Gourdault and Chantelauze. Paris (in progress).
[257] Ed. Gilbert et Gourdault. Paris, 1868-81.
[258] Ed. Feuillet de Conches. 19 vols. Paris, 1854-61.
[259] Memoirs, ed. Chéruel. 20 vols. Paris, 1873. Now being re-edited by M. de
Boislisle. Miscellaneous works are also appearing.
[260] Ed. Bertrand et de Cosnac. Vol. i. Paris, 1882.
[261] Ed. Monmerqué. 14 vols. Paris, 1861-66, to which must be added 2 vols.
of Lettres Inédites discovered and published by M. Capmas.
[262] A full and excellently edited selection has been given by A. Geffroy. 2
vols. Paris, 1887.
[263] 10 vols. Paris, 1855-63.
[264] 10 vols. in 5. Ed. Monmerqué. Third edition. Paris, n. d.
French.
FOOTNOTES:
[253] The following paragraph contains, except as far as Mézeray is concerned,
chiefly second-hand information. I have hitherto been unable to devote the time
necessary to enable me to speak at first hand of these books, which are very
bulky, not as a rule interesting or important in manner, and for the most part long
obsolete in matter.
[254] The legend, familiar probably to most readers, is that Vertot required
documents for his account of a certain military operation. Tired with waiting for
them, he constructed the history out of his own head, and when they arrived
made the ejaculation in the text.
[255] This, with some other of the pieces here mentioned, will be found in two
volumes of the Collection Didot, entitled Petits Chefs d'œuvre Historiques.
[256] Ed. Feillet, Gourdault and Chantelauze. Paris (in progress).
[257] Ed. Gilbert et Gourdault. Paris, 1868-81.
[258] Ed. Feuillet de Conches. 19 vols. Paris, 1854-61.
[259] Memoirs, ed. Chéruel. 20 vols. Paris, 1873. Now being re-edited by M. de
Boislisle. Miscellaneous works are also appearing.
[260] Ed. Bertrand et de Cosnac. Vol. i. Paris, 1882.
[261] Ed. Monmerqué. 14 vols. Paris, 1861-66, to which must be added 2 vols.
of Lettres Inédites discovered and published by M. Capmas.
[262] A full and excellently edited selection has been given by A. Geffroy. 2
vols. Paris, 1887.
[263] 10 vols. Paris, 1855-63.
[264] 10 vols. in 5. Ed. Monmerqué. Third edition. Paris, n. d.
Page 378
CHAPTER V.
ESSAYISTS, MINOR MORALISTS, CRITICS.
The enormous popularity which the Essays of Montaigne enjoyed could not
fail to raise up imitators and followers in the century succeeding their
publication. But Montaigne's influence on the production of short pieces,
complete in themselves and having for the most part an ethical bearing, was
supplemented by the feature of the time so often referred to, the fancy for
literary coteries, and for wit combats between the members of those
coteries. For this latter purpose pieces of moderate length in prose,
corresponding to the sonnets, the madrigals, and such-like things in verse,
were well suited. The Academy, too, with its competitions and its ordinary
critical occupations, stimulated literary production in the same direction.
The essay was therefore much cultivated in the seventeenth century, and not
a few minor styles of composition descended from it. Such were the
Pensée, a short essay on some definite and briefly handled point; the
Conversation, an essay or sketch in dialogue; the Portrait, a sketch of
personal character; the Maxime, a condensed Pensée, just as the Pensée was
a condensed essay. In these various styles some of the most excellent work
existing in French literature was composed during the time which we are at
present handling; and four names of the first, or almost the first rank in
literary history, Pascal, La Rochefoucauld, La Bruyère, and Saint
Evremond, belong to this division, besides not a few others of less
importance. Pascal, indeed, might be almost as well treated in either of the
two following chapters as in the present; but if the substance of his work is
for the most part philosophical or theological, the form of it seems to fall
more suitably under the present head. He does not, however, open the series
of Essayists.
Something of Montaigne's manner, as well as of his
peculiar sceptical doubt, which nevertheless does not Balzac.
transcend the limits of orthodoxy, was continued far into
the century by La Mothe le Vayer, a man of talent, but of some deliberate
eccentricity and archaism in costume and manners as in style. But the most
ESSAYISTS, MINOR MORALISTS, CRITICS.
The enormous popularity which the Essays of Montaigne enjoyed could not
fail to raise up imitators and followers in the century succeeding their
publication. But Montaigne's influence on the production of short pieces,
complete in themselves and having for the most part an ethical bearing, was
supplemented by the feature of the time so often referred to, the fancy for
literary coteries, and for wit combats between the members of those
coteries. For this latter purpose pieces of moderate length in prose,
corresponding to the sonnets, the madrigals, and such-like things in verse,
were well suited. The Academy, too, with its competitions and its ordinary
critical occupations, stimulated literary production in the same direction.
The essay was therefore much cultivated in the seventeenth century, and not
a few minor styles of composition descended from it. Such were the
Pensée, a short essay on some definite and briefly handled point; the
Conversation, an essay or sketch in dialogue; the Portrait, a sketch of
personal character; the Maxime, a condensed Pensée, just as the Pensée was
a condensed essay. In these various styles some of the most excellent work
existing in French literature was composed during the time which we are at
present handling; and four names of the first, or almost the first rank in
literary history, Pascal, La Rochefoucauld, La Bruyère, and Saint
Evremond, belong to this division, besides not a few others of less
importance. Pascal, indeed, might be almost as well treated in either of the
two following chapters as in the present; but if the substance of his work is
for the most part philosophical or theological, the form of it seems to fall
more suitably under the present head. He does not, however, open the series
of Essayists.
Something of Montaigne's manner, as well as of his
peculiar sceptical doubt, which nevertheless does not Balzac.
transcend the limits of orthodoxy, was continued far into
the century by La Mothe le Vayer, a man of talent, but of some deliberate
eccentricity and archaism in costume and manners as in style. But the most
Page 379
important name in the history of French prose next after that of Montaigne
is that of Jean Guez de Balzac, who occupies nearly the same place in it as
Malherbe does in that of French poetry. Balzac was a gentleman of rank and
fortune in the province of Angoumois, where he was born towards the end
of the sixteenth century, and where he died in 1655. In his younger days he
served in some diplomatic employments, then for a long time resided in
Paris, and finally retired to his country seat. Balzac's works are almost
entirely of the essay character, though they are sufficiently diverse, and for
the most part rather artificial in form. The most considerable part of them is
composed of letters—not such letters as have been discussed in the
preceding chapter, but elaborate epistles written deliberately for the sake of
writing, and with a definite attempt at style. Besides these, which are very
numerous, Balzac was also the author of discourses on various subjects and
of certain nondescript works of an ethico-political character, the principal
and best known of which is the Socrate Chrétien. In all, his work was
sufficient to fill two folio volumes when it was collected[265]. Balzac is a
really remarkable figure in literary history, because he is, in his own tongue
and nation, almost the first person who deliberately wrote for the sake of
writing, and not because he had anything particular to say. The practice is
perhaps not one to be commended to the general run of men at any time, or
even to exceptional men, except at a peculiar time. But done as it was, and
when it was, Balzac's work was really of importance and advantage to his
countrymen. The prose literature of the sixteenth century had been
admirable, but it had not resulted in the elaboration of any general style of
all work. Each writer had followed his instincts, and when those instincts
were under the guidance of genius, as they frequently were, many writers
had produced admirable results. But the general use of the printing press,
and the adaptation of literature to all sorts of journey-work, made it
imperatively necessary that the tools should be put ready fashioned into the
hands of ordinary workmen instead of each man having to manufacture
them for himself. Various steps had been taken in this direction. Guillaume
du Vair had already written a Traité de l'Éloquence Française; Vaugelas, a
Savoyard by birth, was shortly to undertake some valuable Remarques on
French grammar and style, which long remained a standard book. But not
many examples of deliberate composition had been given. It was these
examples of deliberate composition which Balzac furnished, and which, in
a lighter and more graceful fashion, and to a more limited circle, were also
is that of Jean Guez de Balzac, who occupies nearly the same place in it as
Malherbe does in that of French poetry. Balzac was a gentleman of rank and
fortune in the province of Angoumois, where he was born towards the end
of the sixteenth century, and where he died in 1655. In his younger days he
served in some diplomatic employments, then for a long time resided in
Paris, and finally retired to his country seat. Balzac's works are almost
entirely of the essay character, though they are sufficiently diverse, and for
the most part rather artificial in form. The most considerable part of them is
composed of letters—not such letters as have been discussed in the
preceding chapter, but elaborate epistles written deliberately for the sake of
writing, and with a definite attempt at style. Besides these, which are very
numerous, Balzac was also the author of discourses on various subjects and
of certain nondescript works of an ethico-political character, the principal
and best known of which is the Socrate Chrétien. In all, his work was
sufficient to fill two folio volumes when it was collected[265]. Balzac is a
really remarkable figure in literary history, because he is, in his own tongue
and nation, almost the first person who deliberately wrote for the sake of
writing, and not because he had anything particular to say. The practice is
perhaps not one to be commended to the general run of men at any time, or
even to exceptional men, except at a peculiar time. But done as it was, and
when it was, Balzac's work was really of importance and advantage to his
countrymen. The prose literature of the sixteenth century had been
admirable, but it had not resulted in the elaboration of any general style of
all work. Each writer had followed his instincts, and when those instincts
were under the guidance of genius, as they frequently were, many writers
had produced admirable results. But the general use of the printing press,
and the adaptation of literature to all sorts of journey-work, made it
imperatively necessary that the tools should be put ready fashioned into the
hands of ordinary workmen instead of each man having to manufacture
them for himself. Various steps had been taken in this direction. Guillaume
du Vair had already written a Traité de l'Éloquence Française; Vaugelas, a
Savoyard by birth, was shortly to undertake some valuable Remarques on
French grammar and style, which long remained a standard book. But not
many examples of deliberate composition had been given. It was these
examples of deliberate composition which Balzac furnished, and which, in
a lighter and more graceful fashion, and to a more limited circle, were also
Page 380
given by the letters of the poet Voiture. Balzac, as is natural in the first
attempts at a polished prose style, has the drawback of being somewhat
rhetorical and occasionally ponderous. But the important point is that the
mechanism of the clause, the sentence, and the paragraph has evidently
been considered by him, and that he has succeeded in getting it into very
tolerable condition. His sentences no longer run on to the interminable
length of earlier writers, or finish in the haphazard manner, neglectful of
rhythm, balance, and proportion, also noticeable in his predecessors. The
substitution of the full stop for the conjunction, which, speaking generally,
may be said to be the initiating secret of style (though of course it must not
be applied too indiscriminately), is at once apparent in Balzac's best
passages, and he rarely falls into the error which waits on this substitution,
the error of scrappiness. His style is perhaps better suited to oratory than to
writing; a not unlikely result, since his models were pretty obviously the
classical orators. But there can be no doubt that to him in no small part is
due the extraordinary outburst of rhetorical power which distinguished the
preachers of the latter half of the century. Nor was it long before what was
faulty in Balzac's style was corrected by the example of very different
writers.
Blaise Pascal[266] was born at Clermont, in Auvergne, on
the 19th of June, 1623. His father was President of the Pascal.
Court of Aids, but when the boy was eight years old the
family moved to Paris. Pascal was one of the small number of
extraordinarily precocious children who have justified their precocity by
genius equally extraordinary in after-life; but it does not appear that he was
forced by his father (who took the whole charge of his education), and it is
said that he did not begin Latin until he was twelve years old—a very late
age for the time. Mathematics, however, were his chief study and delight,
and he early excelled in them, showing also an extraordinary faculty in
applying them to physics. At nineteen he invented a calculating machine.
But his application to study did not improve his health. He was but five-
and-twenty at the time of his famous experiment with the barometer on the
Puy de Dome in his native province. He was soon exposed to the
philosophical influence of Descartes on the one hand, and the theological
influence of the Jansenists on the other, and he felt both deeply. His greatest
work, the Provinciales, appeared in 1656. He died on the 19th of August,
attempts at a polished prose style, has the drawback of being somewhat
rhetorical and occasionally ponderous. But the important point is that the
mechanism of the clause, the sentence, and the paragraph has evidently
been considered by him, and that he has succeeded in getting it into very
tolerable condition. His sentences no longer run on to the interminable
length of earlier writers, or finish in the haphazard manner, neglectful of
rhythm, balance, and proportion, also noticeable in his predecessors. The
substitution of the full stop for the conjunction, which, speaking generally,
may be said to be the initiating secret of style (though of course it must not
be applied too indiscriminately), is at once apparent in Balzac's best
passages, and he rarely falls into the error which waits on this substitution,
the error of scrappiness. His style is perhaps better suited to oratory than to
writing; a not unlikely result, since his models were pretty obviously the
classical orators. But there can be no doubt that to him in no small part is
due the extraordinary outburst of rhetorical power which distinguished the
preachers of the latter half of the century. Nor was it long before what was
faulty in Balzac's style was corrected by the example of very different
writers.
Blaise Pascal[266] was born at Clermont, in Auvergne, on
the 19th of June, 1623. His father was President of the Pascal.
Court of Aids, but when the boy was eight years old the
family moved to Paris. Pascal was one of the small number of
extraordinarily precocious children who have justified their precocity by
genius equally extraordinary in after-life; but it does not appear that he was
forced by his father (who took the whole charge of his education), and it is
said that he did not begin Latin until he was twelve years old—a very late
age for the time. Mathematics, however, were his chief study and delight,
and he early excelled in them, showing also an extraordinary faculty in
applying them to physics. At nineteen he invented a calculating machine.
But his application to study did not improve his health. He was but five-
and-twenty at the time of his famous experiment with the barometer on the
Puy de Dome in his native province. He was soon exposed to the
philosophical influence of Descartes on the one hand, and the theological
influence of the Jansenists on the other, and he felt both deeply. His greatest
work, the Provinciales, appeared in 1656. He died on the 19th of August,
Page 381
1662, having long lived in retirement and asceticism, giving much of his
substance to the poor, and abandoning himself almost entirely to religious,
mathematical, and philosophical meditation.
We have nothing to do here with his purely mathematical works or those in
natural science. The two books by which he belongs to literature, and which
have placed him among the foremost writers of his country, are the
Provinciales and the so-called Pensées. The former were regularly
published by himself in his lifetime, though they were ostensibly
anonymous, or rather pseudonymous. The Pensées consist of scattered
reflections, which were found in his papers after his death. They were
published, but, as has been discovered of late years, with much omission
and garbling, and the restoration of them to their authentic form has been
effected in comparatively recent times.
The famous title of Les Provinciales is only a convenient abbreviation of
the original, which is Lettres Ecrites par Louis de Montalte à un Provincial
de ses Amis et aux Révérends Pères Jésuites sur le Sujet de la Morale et de
la Politique de ces Pères. This somewhat cumbrous appellation has at any
rate the merit of exactly describing the contents of the book, except that
Louis de Montalte is of course a pseudonym. The letters were written at the
height of the early struggle (which had not yet been interfered with by the
secular arm) of Jansenists and Jesuits, and they inflicted on the famous
society a blow from which it has never wholly recovered, and from which it
can never wholly recover. The method and style of Pascal are entirely
original, except in so far as a slight trace of indebtedness to Descartes may
be observed in the first respect, and a slight debt to Montaigne and the
Satire Ménippée in the second. His great weapon is polite irony, which he
first brought to perfection, and in the use of which he has hardly been
equalled and has certainly not been surpassed since. The intricate casuistries
of the Jesuits are unfolded in the gravest fashion and without the least
exaggeration or burlesque, but with a running comment or rather
insinuation of sarcasm which is irresistible. The author never breaks out
into a laugh, never allows himself to be declamatory and indignant. There is
always a smile on his countenance, but never anything more pronounced
than a smile. Yet the contempt of this is more crushing than that of the
bitterest invective. In the later letters indeed the mask of irony is to a certain
extent dropped, and a more serious tone is taken. But effective as these are
substance to the poor, and abandoning himself almost entirely to religious,
mathematical, and philosophical meditation.
We have nothing to do here with his purely mathematical works or those in
natural science. The two books by which he belongs to literature, and which
have placed him among the foremost writers of his country, are the
Provinciales and the so-called Pensées. The former were regularly
published by himself in his lifetime, though they were ostensibly
anonymous, or rather pseudonymous. The Pensées consist of scattered
reflections, which were found in his papers after his death. They were
published, but, as has been discovered of late years, with much omission
and garbling, and the restoration of them to their authentic form has been
effected in comparatively recent times.
The famous title of Les Provinciales is only a convenient abbreviation of
the original, which is Lettres Ecrites par Louis de Montalte à un Provincial
de ses Amis et aux Révérends Pères Jésuites sur le Sujet de la Morale et de
la Politique de ces Pères. This somewhat cumbrous appellation has at any
rate the merit of exactly describing the contents of the book, except that
Louis de Montalte is of course a pseudonym. The letters were written at the
height of the early struggle (which had not yet been interfered with by the
secular arm) of Jansenists and Jesuits, and they inflicted on the famous
society a blow from which it has never wholly recovered, and from which it
can never wholly recover. The method and style of Pascal are entirely
original, except in so far as a slight trace of indebtedness to Descartes may
be observed in the first respect, and a slight debt to Montaigne and the
Satire Ménippée in the second. His great weapon is polite irony, which he
first brought to perfection, and in the use of which he has hardly been
equalled and has certainly not been surpassed since. The intricate casuistries
of the Jesuits are unfolded in the gravest fashion and without the least
exaggeration or burlesque, but with a running comment or rather
insinuation of sarcasm which is irresistible. The author never breaks out
into a laugh, never allows himself to be declamatory and indignant. There is
always a smile on his countenance, but never anything more pronounced
than a smile. Yet the contempt of this is more crushing than that of the
bitterest invective. In the later letters indeed the mask of irony is to a certain
extent dropped, and a more serious tone is taken. But effective as these are
Page 382
they are not the most effective part of the Provinciales. That part is the
earlier one, in which, without dry scholastic argument, without the coarse
abuse which the sixteenth century had regarded as inseparable from
theological controversy, and at the same time with almost absolute accuracy
of statement—for the misrepresentations which two centuries of eager and
able apologists for the Order have been able to detect are insignificant—the
author carried the discussion out of the schools into the drawing-room,
made every man of fair education and breeding a judge of it, and
triumphantly brought the judgment of the vast majority of such men on his
side. To this day Pascal, with Swift and Courier, is the greatest example in
modern literature of irony, excelling Swift as much in elegance and good-
breeding as he falls short of him in sombre force, and having the advantage
over his brilliant follower at the beginning of this century in depth and
nobility of thought.
The Pensées supply the reverse side of Pascal's character, and the
supplement to any proper estimate of his literary genius. But from the
circumstances already referred to, they are evidence of a less complete
though an even more genuine kind than the Provinciales. The scepticism
which ate so deeply into the heart of the seventeenth century affected
Pascal, though he rarely wavered in point of abstract faith. To few men,
however, was doubt more painful, and as no clearer or more piercing
intellect has ever existed, so to none was doubt more constantly present.
The Pensées in their genuine form exhibit the thoughts to which this
conflict of opinion gave rise in him, and are in remarkable contrast with the
polished and sedate badinage of the letters. But few if any of them are
finally worked up into the form in which the author would have been likely
to present them to the public, and therefore, from the point of view of pure
literary criticism, they require less notice here than the sister volume.
The revolution, as far as style is concerned, which in point of time is
already noticeable in Descartes, has entirely accomplished itself in Pascal.
The last vestige of archaism, of quaintness of phrase, of clumsiness in the
architecture of the sentence or the paragraph, has passed away. Indeed, it
can hardly be said that two centuries have added much to the language
except in point of richness and adaptation to the more multifarious needs of
the describer in modern times. The style is extremely simple, but it has none
of the monotony, the lack of colour, and the stereotyped form which are the
earlier one, in which, without dry scholastic argument, without the coarse
abuse which the sixteenth century had regarded as inseparable from
theological controversy, and at the same time with almost absolute accuracy
of statement—for the misrepresentations which two centuries of eager and
able apologists for the Order have been able to detect are insignificant—the
author carried the discussion out of the schools into the drawing-room,
made every man of fair education and breeding a judge of it, and
triumphantly brought the judgment of the vast majority of such men on his
side. To this day Pascal, with Swift and Courier, is the greatest example in
modern literature of irony, excelling Swift as much in elegance and good-
breeding as he falls short of him in sombre force, and having the advantage
over his brilliant follower at the beginning of this century in depth and
nobility of thought.
The Pensées supply the reverse side of Pascal's character, and the
supplement to any proper estimate of his literary genius. But from the
circumstances already referred to, they are evidence of a less complete
though an even more genuine kind than the Provinciales. The scepticism
which ate so deeply into the heart of the seventeenth century affected
Pascal, though he rarely wavered in point of abstract faith. To few men,
however, was doubt more painful, and as no clearer or more piercing
intellect has ever existed, so to none was doubt more constantly present.
The Pensées in their genuine form exhibit the thoughts to which this
conflict of opinion gave rise in him, and are in remarkable contrast with the
polished and sedate badinage of the letters. But few if any of them are
finally worked up into the form in which the author would have been likely
to present them to the public, and therefore, from the point of view of pure
literary criticism, they require less notice here than the sister volume.
The revolution, as far as style is concerned, which in point of time is
already noticeable in Descartes, has entirely accomplished itself in Pascal.
The last vestige of archaism, of quaintness of phrase, of clumsiness in the
architecture of the sentence or the paragraph, has passed away. Indeed, it
can hardly be said that two centuries have added much to the language
except in point of richness and adaptation to the more multifarious needs of
the describer in modern times. The style is extremely simple, but it has none
of the monotony, the lack of colour, and the stereotyped form which are the
Page 383
great drawbacks of French after Boileau as contrasted with French before
him. It is extraordinarily graphic, sparkling with epigram at every point, and
yet never sacrificing sense to the play of words. The Pensées (which it must
always be remembered were never finally worked up) yield matter which
will compare with the carefully concocted Maxims of La Rochefoucauld or
of Joubert, while the Provinciales are, as has been said, unsurpassable in
their own line. It is probable that most good judges would allot to Pascal in
French the place which Dryden occupies in English, that is to say, the place
of the writer who combines most of the advantages of the elder and younger
manners. But Pascal, who wrote merely to please himself, had this great
advantage over Dryden, that his work contains no mere journey-work, and
especially nothing unworthy of him. Admirable as it is in style, it is equally
admirable in meaning and in adaptation to that meaning, and it has thus
both the sources of lasting popularity at command. Dealing, moreover, as it
does with subjects of perennial importance and interest, it is almost entirely
exempt from the necessity of comment and explanation which weighs down
much admirable work of past ages. No man, however indisposed to serious
reading, can put down the Provinciales as dull; no man, however unwilling
to read anything that is not serious, can complain of levity in the Pensées.
There are few authors in any language who unite as Pascal does the claims
of importance of subject, charm of style, and bulk, without too great
voluminousness of production. He has, moreover, the additional merit of
being in a high degree representative of his age. That age had grown too
complex for one man to reflect the whole of it, but Pascal and Molière (with
perhaps Saint Evremond or La Rochefoucauld as thirdsman) supply an
almost complete reflection.
Saint Evremond[267], who was thirteen years Pascal's senior, and who
outlived him by more than forty years, was, in almost every respect except
intellectual vigour and literary faculty, his opposite. He was a Norman by
birth (Charles de Marguetel de Saint Denis was his proper name), and was
born in 1610. He was educated by the Jesuits, entered the army early,
served through the later campaigns of the Thirty Years' War and in the
Fronde, was a favourite of Condé's but fell into disgrace with him, and after
the fall of Fouquet, which led to the discovery of his very able and very
uncourtly letter on the Peace of the Pyrenees, also incurred the king's
displeasure. This displeasure is said to have been aggravated by his
him. It is extraordinarily graphic, sparkling with epigram at every point, and
yet never sacrificing sense to the play of words. The Pensées (which it must
always be remembered were never finally worked up) yield matter which
will compare with the carefully concocted Maxims of La Rochefoucauld or
of Joubert, while the Provinciales are, as has been said, unsurpassable in
their own line. It is probable that most good judges would allot to Pascal in
French the place which Dryden occupies in English, that is to say, the place
of the writer who combines most of the advantages of the elder and younger
manners. But Pascal, who wrote merely to please himself, had this great
advantage over Dryden, that his work contains no mere journey-work, and
especially nothing unworthy of him. Admirable as it is in style, it is equally
admirable in meaning and in adaptation to that meaning, and it has thus
both the sources of lasting popularity at command. Dealing, moreover, as it
does with subjects of perennial importance and interest, it is almost entirely
exempt from the necessity of comment and explanation which weighs down
much admirable work of past ages. No man, however indisposed to serious
reading, can put down the Provinciales as dull; no man, however unwilling
to read anything that is not serious, can complain of levity in the Pensées.
There are few authors in any language who unite as Pascal does the claims
of importance of subject, charm of style, and bulk, without too great
voluminousness of production. He has, moreover, the additional merit of
being in a high degree representative of his age. That age had grown too
complex for one man to reflect the whole of it, but Pascal and Molière (with
perhaps Saint Evremond or La Rochefoucauld as thirdsman) supply an
almost complete reflection.
Saint Evremond[267], who was thirteen years Pascal's senior, and who
outlived him by more than forty years, was, in almost every respect except
intellectual vigour and literary faculty, his opposite. He was a Norman by
birth (Charles de Marguetel de Saint Denis was his proper name), and was
born in 1610. He was educated by the Jesuits, entered the army early,
served through the later campaigns of the Thirty Years' War and in the
Fronde, was a favourite of Condé's but fell into disgrace with him, and after
the fall of Fouquet, which led to the discovery of his very able and very
uncourtly letter on the Peace of the Pyrenees, also incurred the king's
displeasure. This displeasure is said to have been aggravated by his
Page 384
notorious membership of the freethinking and materialist school which
Gassendi, if he had not founded it, had helped to spread. Saint Evremond
was practically if not formally banished, and the time of his misfortune
coinciding pretty nearly with the Restoration in England, he made his way
thither, was well received by the king and his courtiers, many of whom he
had known in their exile, and dwelt in London for almost the whole
remainder of his long life. He died in 1703, and was buried in Westminster
Abbey. His works are almost entirely occasional, consisting of
'conversations,' letters, 'portraits,' short literary disquisitions and tractates on
subjects of historical and ethical interest. They display a placid epicurean
philosophy which in its indifference to the assaults of fortune is not
destitute of nobility, an extraordinary catholicity and acuteness of literary
judgment, and remarkable wit and finesse. The Conversation du Père
Canaye, which is of the same date as the Provinciales, is worthy of Pascal
for its irony, and possesses a certain air of being written by a 'person of
quality,' which Saint Evremond could throw over his writings better almost
than any one else. His Portraits, not always flattering, are full of nervous
vigour. But his literary remarks are perhaps the most surprising of his
works. At a time when English literature was almost unknown in France,
and when Boileau ostentatiously pretended never to have heard of Dryden,
Saint Evremond, perhaps with some assistance from his friend Waller, drew
up some masterly remarks on the humour-comedy of the Jonson school. His
criticisms of French plays, as compared with classical tragedy and comedy,
are also full of pregnant thought; and some comparative studies of his on
Corneille and Racine show a power of detachment and independence which
may be due in some part to the cosmopolitanism given by residence abroad,
but which is certainly due also to native power. From the point of view of
literary history, however, Saint Evremond is perhaps most remarkable as
having formed, in conjunction with Pascal and Bayle, a singular trio, which
supplied Voltaire with the models[268] whence he drew his peculiar style of
persiflage. As far as form is concerned, it may be fairly said that Saint
Evremond was the most influential of the three. Like many other men of his
time he rarely published anything in the ordinary way, and it was not till
very late in life that he empowered Desmaizeaux to issue an authorised
edition of work that had either circulated in manuscript or been piratically
printed.
Gassendi, if he had not founded it, had helped to spread. Saint Evremond
was practically if not formally banished, and the time of his misfortune
coinciding pretty nearly with the Restoration in England, he made his way
thither, was well received by the king and his courtiers, many of whom he
had known in their exile, and dwelt in London for almost the whole
remainder of his long life. He died in 1703, and was buried in Westminster
Abbey. His works are almost entirely occasional, consisting of
'conversations,' letters, 'portraits,' short literary disquisitions and tractates on
subjects of historical and ethical interest. They display a placid epicurean
philosophy which in its indifference to the assaults of fortune is not
destitute of nobility, an extraordinary catholicity and acuteness of literary
judgment, and remarkable wit and finesse. The Conversation du Père
Canaye, which is of the same date as the Provinciales, is worthy of Pascal
for its irony, and possesses a certain air of being written by a 'person of
quality,' which Saint Evremond could throw over his writings better almost
than any one else. His Portraits, not always flattering, are full of nervous
vigour. But his literary remarks are perhaps the most surprising of his
works. At a time when English literature was almost unknown in France,
and when Boileau ostentatiously pretended never to have heard of Dryden,
Saint Evremond, perhaps with some assistance from his friend Waller, drew
up some masterly remarks on the humour-comedy of the Jonson school. His
criticisms of French plays, as compared with classical tragedy and comedy,
are also full of pregnant thought; and some comparative studies of his on
Corneille and Racine show a power of detachment and independence which
may be due in some part to the cosmopolitanism given by residence abroad,
but which is certainly due also to native power. From the point of view of
literary history, however, Saint Evremond is perhaps most remarkable as
having formed, in conjunction with Pascal and Bayle, a singular trio, which
supplied Voltaire with the models[268] whence he drew his peculiar style of
persiflage. As far as form is concerned, it may be fairly said that Saint
Evremond was the most influential of the three. Like many other men of his
time he rarely published anything in the ordinary way, and it was not till
very late in life that he empowered Desmaizeaux to issue an authorised
edition of work that had either circulated in manuscript or been piratically
printed.
Page 385
François de Marcillac[269], Duke de la Rochefoucauld,
was born in 1613 of one of the noblest families of La Rochefoucauld.
France. His father had just been created duke and peer,
the highest honour possible to a French subject, and for many years the son
was known under the title of Prince de Marcillac. He was very imperfectly
educated, but was early sent to serve in the army and introduced to the
court. Young as he was, he was deeply engaged in the various intrigues
against Richelieu, chiefly in consequence of his affection for the celebrated
Madame de Chevreuse. After Richelieu's death and the comparative
effacement of Madame de Chevreuse, he transferred his affections to
Madame de Longueville and his aversion to Mazarin. He was one of the
chiefs of the Princes' party, and fought all through the Fronde, winning a
reputation, not so much for military skill as for the most reckless bravery.
The establishment of the royal authority first sent him into retirement, and
then reduced him to the position of an ordinary courtier. This last period of
his life was distinguished by a third attachment to a lady hardly less
celebrated than either of his former loves, Madame de la Fayette, the author
of La Princesse de Clèves, in which novel he is said to figure under another
name. He was also an intimate friend of Madame de Sévigné. In the latter
part of his life he suffered terribly from gout, and died of that disease in
1680.
His Memoirs have been already noticed. The more famous and far more
remarkable Maxims were published shortly afterwards, and at once attained
a wide popularity. The first edition appeared in 1665, and four others were
published, with considerable alterations and additions, during the author's
lifetime, in 1666, 1671, 1675, and 1678. After his death a sixth edition was
published by Claude Barbin, containing fifty new maxims, the authenticity
of which is uncertain but probable.
The fullest authoritative edition of La Rochefoucauld's Maxims contains
504 separate paragraphs, to which, besides the fifty just noticed, about
another fifty can be added by restoring those which the author suppressed
during his lifetime. The last, which is avowedly a kind of appendix, and on
a different plan from the others, extends to a couple of pages. But the
average length of the remainder is not more than three or four lines, and
many do not contain more than a dozen words. The art of compressing
thought and then pointedly expressing it has never been pushed so far
was born in 1613 of one of the noblest families of La Rochefoucauld.
France. His father had just been created duke and peer,
the highest honour possible to a French subject, and for many years the son
was known under the title of Prince de Marcillac. He was very imperfectly
educated, but was early sent to serve in the army and introduced to the
court. Young as he was, he was deeply engaged in the various intrigues
against Richelieu, chiefly in consequence of his affection for the celebrated
Madame de Chevreuse. After Richelieu's death and the comparative
effacement of Madame de Chevreuse, he transferred his affections to
Madame de Longueville and his aversion to Mazarin. He was one of the
chiefs of the Princes' party, and fought all through the Fronde, winning a
reputation, not so much for military skill as for the most reckless bravery.
The establishment of the royal authority first sent him into retirement, and
then reduced him to the position of an ordinary courtier. This last period of
his life was distinguished by a third attachment to a lady hardly less
celebrated than either of his former loves, Madame de la Fayette, the author
of La Princesse de Clèves, in which novel he is said to figure under another
name. He was also an intimate friend of Madame de Sévigné. In the latter
part of his life he suffered terribly from gout, and died of that disease in
1680.
His Memoirs have been already noticed. The more famous and far more
remarkable Maxims were published shortly afterwards, and at once attained
a wide popularity. The first edition appeared in 1665, and four others were
published, with considerable alterations and additions, during the author's
lifetime, in 1666, 1671, 1675, and 1678. After his death a sixth edition was
published by Claude Barbin, containing fifty new maxims, the authenticity
of which is uncertain but probable.
The fullest authoritative edition of La Rochefoucauld's Maxims contains
504 separate paragraphs, to which, besides the fifty just noticed, about
another fifty can be added by restoring those which the author suppressed
during his lifetime. The last, which is avowedly a kind of appendix, and on
a different plan from the others, extends to a couple of pages. But the
average length of the remainder is not more than three or four lines, and
many do not contain more than a dozen words. The art of compressing
thought and then pointedly expressing it has never been pushed so far
Page 386
except by Joubert, and hardly even by him. All La Rochefoucauld's
maxims, without exception, are on ethical subjects, and with a certain
allowance they may be said to be generally concerned with the reduction of
the motives and conduct of men to the single principle of self-love. In
consequence, accusations of misanthropy, of unfairness, of short-
sightedness, have been showered upon the author by those who do not like
a spade to be called a spade. We have nothing to do with the moral side of
the matter here, and it is sufficient to say that La Rochefoucauld is not an
advocate of the selfish or any other school of moralists. He is simply an
observer, setting down with the utmost literary skill the results of a long life
of unusual experience in business and pleasure of every kind. He is a man
of science who has got together a large collection of facts, and who
expounds and arranges them on a certain coherent and sufficient hypothesis.
As a work of literary art the result of his exposition is unrivalled. The whole
of the Maxims, even with the doubtful or rejected ones, need not occupy
more than a hundred pages, and they contain matter which in the hands of
an ordinary writer would have filled a dozen volumes. Yet there is no undue
compression. It is impossible ever to mistake the meaning, though the
comprehension of the full application of that meaning depends, of course,
on the intellectual equipment and social experience of the reader. The
clearness with which Descartes had first endowed French is here displayed
in its very highest degree. The style, as was unavoidable in work of the
kind, is entirely devoid of ornament. Imagery is wholly absent, and though
metaphorical expressions abound, they are of the plainest and simplest kind
of metaphor. The philosophical language of the day is present, but in no
very prominent measure. The motto of the book (at least in the fourth and
fifth editions), 'Nos vertus ne sont le plus souvent que des vices déguisés,' is
a very fair example of the simple straightforward fashion of La
Rochefoucauld's style. Sometimes, but rarely, the author explains his
meaning, and slightly lengthens his phrase by repeating the sentiment in a
somewhat different form, as thus, 'Le plaisir de l'amour est d'aimer, et l'on
est plus heureux par la passion qu'on a que par celle que l'on donne.' But
even here it is to be observed that the explanation is in a manner necessary
to take off the air of sententious enigma, which the words 'le plaisir de
l'amour est d'aimer' might have had by themselves. La Rochefoucauld is
never enigmatical, rarely sententious merely, and is almost indifferent to the
production of mots. How continually the study of brevity, combined with
maxims, without exception, are on ethical subjects, and with a certain
allowance they may be said to be generally concerned with the reduction of
the motives and conduct of men to the single principle of self-love. In
consequence, accusations of misanthropy, of unfairness, of short-
sightedness, have been showered upon the author by those who do not like
a spade to be called a spade. We have nothing to do with the moral side of
the matter here, and it is sufficient to say that La Rochefoucauld is not an
advocate of the selfish or any other school of moralists. He is simply an
observer, setting down with the utmost literary skill the results of a long life
of unusual experience in business and pleasure of every kind. He is a man
of science who has got together a large collection of facts, and who
expounds and arranges them on a certain coherent and sufficient hypothesis.
As a work of literary art the result of his exposition is unrivalled. The whole
of the Maxims, even with the doubtful or rejected ones, need not occupy
more than a hundred pages, and they contain matter which in the hands of
an ordinary writer would have filled a dozen volumes. Yet there is no undue
compression. It is impossible ever to mistake the meaning, though the
comprehension of the full application of that meaning depends, of course,
on the intellectual equipment and social experience of the reader. The
clearness with which Descartes had first endowed French is here displayed
in its very highest degree. The style, as was unavoidable in work of the
kind, is entirely devoid of ornament. Imagery is wholly absent, and though
metaphorical expressions abound, they are of the plainest and simplest kind
of metaphor. The philosophical language of the day is present, but in no
very prominent measure. The motto of the book (at least in the fourth and
fifth editions), 'Nos vertus ne sont le plus souvent que des vices déguisés,' is
a very fair example of the simple straightforward fashion of La
Rochefoucauld's style. Sometimes, but rarely, the author explains his
meaning, and slightly lengthens his phrase by repeating the sentiment in a
somewhat different form, as thus, 'Le plaisir de l'amour est d'aimer, et l'on
est plus heureux par la passion qu'on a que par celle que l'on donne.' But
even here it is to be observed that the explanation is in a manner necessary
to take off the air of sententious enigma, which the words 'le plaisir de
l'amour est d'aimer' might have had by themselves. La Rochefoucauld is
never enigmatical, rarely sententious merely, and is almost indifferent to the
production of mots. How continually the study of brevity, combined with
Page 387
precision, occupied the author, and how severe he was on any exuberance,
can be seen very instructively in the successive alterations of his work.
Thus, in the first edition Maxim 295 ran, 'La jeunesse est une ivresse
continuelle, c'est la fièvre de la santé, c'est la folie de la raison;' but La
Rochefoucauld seems to have thought this unduly pleonastic, and it appears
later as 'La jeunesse est une ivresse continuelle, c'est la fièvre de la raison,'
the improvement of which in point and freshness is sufficiently obvious.
The result of this process is that the best of these Maxims are absolutely
unrivalled in their own peculiar style, and that all subsequent writers in the
same style have taken their form as a model. French critics have, as a rule,
rather under-than over-estimated the purely literary talent of La
Rochefoucauld. But this is due to two causes: first, to the supposed
antagonism of his spirit to conventional morality; secondly, to the fact that
he somewhat anticipated the writers of the particular period which for a
century and a half was the idol of academic criticism. His language is rather
that of Louis XIII. than of Louis XIV., and in his words and phrases there is
a certain archaism, not to say an occasional irregularity, which critics who
look only at the stop-watch apparently find it hard to forgive.
These critics generally give the palm of style, as
concerns writing of this kind, to Jean de la Bruyère[270]. La Bruyère.
Less is known of the personal history of this author than
of that of any contemporary writer of great eminence. He was born at Paris,
in August 1645, and his family appears to have been anciently connected
with the law. He must have been a man of some means and of good
education, for he had just bought himself an important financial post at
Caen, when, on the recommendation of Bossuet, he was appointed
Historical Preceptor to Duke Louis of Bourbon, the grandson of Condé, in
whose household he continued till his death in 1696. He had published his
Caractères in 1687, and was elected to the Academy in 1693.
The works of La Bruyère consist of the Caractères just mentioned, of a
translation of Theophrastus, of a few literary discourses, and (probably) of
some chapters on Quietism, written on the side of his patron Bossuet during
the great controversy with Fénelon, but not published till after the author's
death. The Caractères alone are of much importance or interest.
can be seen very instructively in the successive alterations of his work.
Thus, in the first edition Maxim 295 ran, 'La jeunesse est une ivresse
continuelle, c'est la fièvre de la santé, c'est la folie de la raison;' but La
Rochefoucauld seems to have thought this unduly pleonastic, and it appears
later as 'La jeunesse est une ivresse continuelle, c'est la fièvre de la raison,'
the improvement of which in point and freshness is sufficiently obvious.
The result of this process is that the best of these Maxims are absolutely
unrivalled in their own peculiar style, and that all subsequent writers in the
same style have taken their form as a model. French critics have, as a rule,
rather under-than over-estimated the purely literary talent of La
Rochefoucauld. But this is due to two causes: first, to the supposed
antagonism of his spirit to conventional morality; secondly, to the fact that
he somewhat anticipated the writers of the particular period which for a
century and a half was the idol of academic criticism. His language is rather
that of Louis XIII. than of Louis XIV., and in his words and phrases there is
a certain archaism, not to say an occasional irregularity, which critics who
look only at the stop-watch apparently find it hard to forgive.
These critics generally give the palm of style, as
concerns writing of this kind, to Jean de la Bruyère[270]. La Bruyère.
Less is known of the personal history of this author than
of that of any contemporary writer of great eminence. He was born at Paris,
in August 1645, and his family appears to have been anciently connected
with the law. He must have been a man of some means and of good
education, for he had just bought himself an important financial post at
Caen, when, on the recommendation of Bossuet, he was appointed
Historical Preceptor to Duke Louis of Bourbon, the grandson of Condé, in
whose household he continued till his death in 1696. He had published his
Caractères in 1687, and was elected to the Academy in 1693.
The works of La Bruyère consist of the Caractères just mentioned, of a
translation of Theophrastus, of a few literary discourses, and (probably) of
some chapters on Quietism, written on the side of his patron Bossuet during
the great controversy with Fénelon, but not published till after the author's
death. The Caractères alone are of much importance or interest.
Page 388
The design of this curious and celebrated book is taken, like its title, from
Theophrastus, but the plan is very much altered as well as extended. Instead
of copying directly the abstract qualities of Theophrastus and his brief,
pregnant, but somewhat artificial and jejune description of them, La
Bruyère adopted a scheme much better suited to his own age. He took for
the most part actual living people, well known to all his readers, and,
disguising them thinly under names of the kind which the romances of the
middle of the century had rendered fashionable, made them body forth the
characters he wished to define and satirise. These portraits he inserted in a
framework not altogether unlike that of the Montaigne essay, preserving no
very consecutive plan, but passing from moral reflection to literary
criticism, and from literary criticism to one of the half-personal, half-
moralising portraits just mentioned, with remarkable ease and skill. The
titles of his chapters are rather more indicative of their actual contents than
those of Montaigne's essays, but they represent, for the most part, merely
very elastic frames, in which the author's various observations and
reflections are mounted. The result of this variety, not to say desultoriness,
combined as it is with the display of very great literary art, is that La
Bruyère's is a book of almost unparalleled interest to take up and lay down
at odd moments. Its apparently continuous form and its intermixture of
narrative save it from the appearance of severity which the avowed Maxim
or Pensée has; while the bond between the different chapters, and even the
different paragraphs, is so slight that interruption is not felt to be annoying.
Even now, when the zest of personal malice, which, as Malézieux remarked
to the author, made him sure beforehand of 'plenty of readers and plenty of
enemies,' is past, it is a most interesting book to read; and it is especially
interesting to Englishmen, because there is no doubt that the English
essayists of the Queen Anne school directly modelled themselves upon it.
It has been objected to La Bruyère that he is less of a thinker than of a
clever writer, and there is truth in the objection. He was possessed of a
remarkable shrewdness, common sense, and soundness of taste; thus, for
instance, he protests energetically against the foolish pedantry which
rejected as obsolete many of the most useful and most picturesque words in
French, and so sets himself directly against the dominant and very
unfortunate literary influence of his time, that of Boileau. Yet he himself
wrote in the fashionable style, and in the language rather of Racine than of
Theophrastus, but the plan is very much altered as well as extended. Instead
of copying directly the abstract qualities of Theophrastus and his brief,
pregnant, but somewhat artificial and jejune description of them, La
Bruyère adopted a scheme much better suited to his own age. He took for
the most part actual living people, well known to all his readers, and,
disguising them thinly under names of the kind which the romances of the
middle of the century had rendered fashionable, made them body forth the
characters he wished to define and satirise. These portraits he inserted in a
framework not altogether unlike that of the Montaigne essay, preserving no
very consecutive plan, but passing from moral reflection to literary
criticism, and from literary criticism to one of the half-personal, half-
moralising portraits just mentioned, with remarkable ease and skill. The
titles of his chapters are rather more indicative of their actual contents than
those of Montaigne's essays, but they represent, for the most part, merely
very elastic frames, in which the author's various observations and
reflections are mounted. The result of this variety, not to say desultoriness,
combined as it is with the display of very great literary art, is that La
Bruyère's is a book of almost unparalleled interest to take up and lay down
at odd moments. Its apparently continuous form and its intermixture of
narrative save it from the appearance of severity which the avowed Maxim
or Pensée has; while the bond between the different chapters, and even the
different paragraphs, is so slight that interruption is not felt to be annoying.
Even now, when the zest of personal malice, which, as Malézieux remarked
to the author, made him sure beforehand of 'plenty of readers and plenty of
enemies,' is past, it is a most interesting book to read; and it is especially
interesting to Englishmen, because there is no doubt that the English
essayists of the Queen Anne school directly modelled themselves upon it.
It has been objected to La Bruyère that he is less of a thinker than of a
clever writer, and there is truth in the objection. He was possessed of a
remarkable shrewdness, common sense, and soundness of taste; thus, for
instance, he protests energetically against the foolish pedantry which
rejected as obsolete many of the most useful and most picturesque words in
French, and so sets himself directly against the dominant and very
unfortunate literary influence of his time, that of Boileau. Yet he himself
wrote in the fashionable style, and in the language rather of Racine than of
Page 389
Corneille. A further objection, also a just one, is that his characters are too
much of their age and not of all time. This objection, indeed, applies to
almost all writers after 1660, except Molière, and La Fontaine, and La
Rochefoucauld. But La Bruyère (though there are some sarcastic
insinuations which seem to hint that his range was wider than he chose to
show) is as unwilling to disentangle himself from Versailles and Paris as his
English followers are to extend their gaze to something beyond 'the town.'
Nor is there the force and vigour about La Bruyère's moral reflections that
there is about La Rochefoucauld's. They are frequently commonplace,
sometimes even platitudinous, and the author occasionally falls into what is
perhaps the most dangerous pitfall for a moralist and social satirist, the
adoption of stock butts and types. It is indeed most probable that La
Bruyère was one of those who, according to a famous phrase of his enemy
and successor, Fontenelle, 'may have their hands full of truth, but may not
care to open more than their little finger.' He was not, like La
Rochefoucauld, a great noble with the liberty of the Fronde in his mind, but
a man of no exalted rank, living in the most absolute period of Louis the
Fourteenth's rule. His remark that 'les grands sujets sont défendus' is a
pregnant one, especially when it is remembered how near to the 'grands
sujets' (as, for instance, in his oblique denunciation of the misery of the
French peasantry) he sometimes goes. But his style, though looser than that
of his forerunner, and destitute of the character of sharp and enduring
sculpture which is impressed on the Maxims, is a model of ease, grace, and
fluency without weakness[271].
FOOTNOTES:
[265] He has not recently been re-edited, but a selection was published in 1822.
[266] Editions of Pascal are numerous, but a complete and definite one is still
wanting. Of the Pensées, etc., the editions of Faugère, Havet, and Rocher may be
mentioned; of the Provinciales, the edition of 1867.
[267] Ed. Giraud. 3 vols. Paris, 1866. (A selection only, but containing almost
everything of importance.)
[268] Perhaps Anthony Hamilton should be added, as a channel of
communication with Saint Evremond and some of the seventeenth century
coterie-writers.
much of their age and not of all time. This objection, indeed, applies to
almost all writers after 1660, except Molière, and La Fontaine, and La
Rochefoucauld. But La Bruyère (though there are some sarcastic
insinuations which seem to hint that his range was wider than he chose to
show) is as unwilling to disentangle himself from Versailles and Paris as his
English followers are to extend their gaze to something beyond 'the town.'
Nor is there the force and vigour about La Bruyère's moral reflections that
there is about La Rochefoucauld's. They are frequently commonplace,
sometimes even platitudinous, and the author occasionally falls into what is
perhaps the most dangerous pitfall for a moralist and social satirist, the
adoption of stock butts and types. It is indeed most probable that La
Bruyère was one of those who, according to a famous phrase of his enemy
and successor, Fontenelle, 'may have their hands full of truth, but may not
care to open more than their little finger.' He was not, like La
Rochefoucauld, a great noble with the liberty of the Fronde in his mind, but
a man of no exalted rank, living in the most absolute period of Louis the
Fourteenth's rule. His remark that 'les grands sujets sont défendus' is a
pregnant one, especially when it is remembered how near to the 'grands
sujets' (as, for instance, in his oblique denunciation of the misery of the
French peasantry) he sometimes goes. But his style, though looser than that
of his forerunner, and destitute of the character of sharp and enduring
sculpture which is impressed on the Maxims, is a model of ease, grace, and
fluency without weakness[271].
FOOTNOTES:
[265] He has not recently been re-edited, but a selection was published in 1822.
[266] Editions of Pascal are numerous, but a complete and definite one is still
wanting. Of the Pensées, etc., the editions of Faugère, Havet, and Rocher may be
mentioned; of the Provinciales, the edition of 1867.
[267] Ed. Giraud. 3 vols. Paris, 1866. (A selection only, but containing almost
everything of importance.)
[268] Perhaps Anthony Hamilton should be added, as a channel of
communication with Saint Evremond and some of the seventeenth century
coterie-writers.
Page 390
[269] Ed. as before noticed. The Maxims have been constantly reprinted by
themselves.
[270] Ed. Servois. Paris, 1865-1882.
[271] Under the head of this chapter, in an exhaustive history, not a few classes
of writers might be ranged. Such are, besides great numbers of miscellaneous
writers of criticism from Corneille in his Examens downwards, the classical
commentators, editors, and translators. Few of these have left a very enduring
reputation. In the earlier part of the century Perrot d'Ablancourt, a fertile
translator, may be mentioned. His work was so free that his versions were called
'les belles infidèles,' but Boileau himself admitted that he was a master of French
style. In the latter part the best-known and perhaps the most remarkable name is
that of the still famous Madame Dacier. Many of the early members of the
Academy, and some who never attained to its ranks, have left a reputation more
anecdotic than strictly literary, such as Ménage (a representative of the class),
Cotin, Costar, Bautru, etc. But they can only be alluded to here. Law also
contributed in the person of Patru, a writer for the most part on professional
topics, but occasionally on literature, who is ranked by Boileau with Perrot
d'Ablancourt in respect of style.
themselves.
[270] Ed. Servois. Paris, 1865-1882.
[271] Under the head of this chapter, in an exhaustive history, not a few classes
of writers might be ranged. Such are, besides great numbers of miscellaneous
writers of criticism from Corneille in his Examens downwards, the classical
commentators, editors, and translators. Few of these have left a very enduring
reputation. In the earlier part of the century Perrot d'Ablancourt, a fertile
translator, may be mentioned. His work was so free that his versions were called
'les belles infidèles,' but Boileau himself admitted that he was a master of French
style. In the latter part the best-known and perhaps the most remarkable name is
that of the still famous Madame Dacier. Many of the early members of the
Academy, and some who never attained to its ranks, have left a reputation more
anecdotic than strictly literary, such as Ménage (a representative of the class),
Cotin, Costar, Bautru, etc. But they can only be alluded to here. Law also
contributed in the person of Patru, a writer for the most part on professional
topics, but occasionally on literature, who is ranked by Boileau with Perrot
d'Ablancourt in respect of style.
Page 391
CHAPTER VI.
PHILOSOPHERS.
The history of literature and the history of philosophy touch each other only
at certain points of their course. There are periods (the nineteenth century
itself is perhaps an example) when the study of philosophy is almost
divorced from style. There are others when the two are intimately wedded.
Nowhere is this latter more the case than in the seventeenth century, and in
France. Much of the most excellent writing of the time was directed to
philosophic subjects. But it so happened that the great reformer of
philosophy in France was also the greatest reformer of her prose style, and
that his greatest disciple carried philosophical writing, as far as style is
concerned, to very nearly, if not quite, the highest pitch which it has yet
attained in French. We shall not have to concern ourselves in more than the
very slightest degree with the subject of the writings of Descartes and
Malebranche, but they have as legitimate a place in the history of French
literature as they have in that of European philosophy.
René Descartes[272] was born at La Haye in Touraine on
the 31st of March, 1596. His family belonged by descent Descartes.
to the province in which he was born, but by occupation
and official position (as well it would seem as by possessions) to Britanny.
It was of noble rank, though only of noblesse de robe, and possessed
enough landed property to leave estates and territorial designations to two
sons. Thus René was Seigneur du Perron, though, quite contrary to the wont
of the day, he never made use of the title. He was of weak health both at this
time and afterwards, and, unlike most of his contemporaries, did not begin
his studies very early. In 1604 he was sent to the Jesuit College of La
Flèche, and remained there nearly eight years. After a short stay at home he
was sent to Paris, where he divided his time between ordinary pursuits and
amusements on the one hand, and hard study on the other. In 1617, when he
had just attained his majority, he joined the army as a volunteer, and the
outbreak of the Thirty Years' War soon gave him plenty of employment. He
PHILOSOPHERS.
The history of literature and the history of philosophy touch each other only
at certain points of their course. There are periods (the nineteenth century
itself is perhaps an example) when the study of philosophy is almost
divorced from style. There are others when the two are intimately wedded.
Nowhere is this latter more the case than in the seventeenth century, and in
France. Much of the most excellent writing of the time was directed to
philosophic subjects. But it so happened that the great reformer of
philosophy in France was also the greatest reformer of her prose style, and
that his greatest disciple carried philosophical writing, as far as style is
concerned, to very nearly, if not quite, the highest pitch which it has yet
attained in French. We shall not have to concern ourselves in more than the
very slightest degree with the subject of the writings of Descartes and
Malebranche, but they have as legitimate a place in the history of French
literature as they have in that of European philosophy.
René Descartes[272] was born at La Haye in Touraine on
the 31st of March, 1596. His family belonged by descent Descartes.
to the province in which he was born, but by occupation
and official position (as well it would seem as by possessions) to Britanny.
It was of noble rank, though only of noblesse de robe, and possessed
enough landed property to leave estates and territorial designations to two
sons. Thus René was Seigneur du Perron, though, quite contrary to the wont
of the day, he never made use of the title. He was of weak health both at this
time and afterwards, and, unlike most of his contemporaries, did not begin
his studies very early. In 1604 he was sent to the Jesuit College of La
Flèche, and remained there nearly eight years. After a short stay at home he
was sent to Paris, where he divided his time between ordinary pursuits and
amusements on the one hand, and hard study on the other. In 1617, when he
had just attained his majority, he joined the army as a volunteer, and the
outbreak of the Thirty Years' War soon gave him plenty of employment. He
Page 392
visited various parts of Europe, partly on duty, partly as an ordinary
traveller. First he served for two years at Breda under Prince Maurice of
Nassau, pursuing the same mixture of study and routine employments. Then
he went to Germany, where in his winter quarters his great philosophical
idea, as he has told in memorable words, flashed across him. He served in
various parts of the empire, and in Hungary and Bohemia, but left the army
in 1621 and went to Holland, experiencing on the way a curious and
dangerous adventure. After a year at the Hague he went home, and was put
in possession of his share of his mother's property. He visited Italy, where
he made a pilgrimage to Loretto, then returned to France, and dwelt in Paris
for some time; resuming however his military character for a while, and
serving at the siege of La Rochelle. At last, in 1628, being then thirty-two
years old, he left the service finally, and gave himself up wholly to the
study of philosophy. For this purpose he retired to Holland, where he was
still somewhat restless[273]. But his chief centres were successively
Amsterdam, Egmond, not far from Alkmaar, and Endegeest, within easy
distance of the Hague. He returned to France more than once, and was
asked to settle at court, receiving from Mazarin a pension of 3000 livres.
But the troubles of the Fronde made Paris a distasteful and unsuitable
residence for him. He then accepted, at the end of 1649, an invitation from
Queen Christina of Sweden and went to Stockholm, where the severe
weather and the gracious habit which the queen had of summoning him for
discussion at five o'clock in the morning (he had all his life when not on
active service made a point of not rising till eleven), put an end to his life,
by inflammation of the lungs, on Feb. 11, 1650.
The works of Descartes are numerous, though few of them are of very great
extent. He wrote a treatise (not now extant) on the art of fencing when he
was but sixteen; and during the succeeding years small treatises on different
points, chiefly of mathematics and natural theology, constantly issued from
his pen, though he was not a ready writer. The works which alone concern
us here are his famous Discours de la Méthode, 1637, and his letters. The
Méditations, of equal importance philosophically with the Discours, and the
Principia Philosophiæ, a rehandling of the two, were originally published
in Latin. No attempt can here be made to give any account of Descartes'
mathematical, physical, and metaphysical speculations, or of the means by
which he endeavoured to work out his great principle, that all knowledge
traveller. First he served for two years at Breda under Prince Maurice of
Nassau, pursuing the same mixture of study and routine employments. Then
he went to Germany, where in his winter quarters his great philosophical
idea, as he has told in memorable words, flashed across him. He served in
various parts of the empire, and in Hungary and Bohemia, but left the army
in 1621 and went to Holland, experiencing on the way a curious and
dangerous adventure. After a year at the Hague he went home, and was put
in possession of his share of his mother's property. He visited Italy, where
he made a pilgrimage to Loretto, then returned to France, and dwelt in Paris
for some time; resuming however his military character for a while, and
serving at the siege of La Rochelle. At last, in 1628, being then thirty-two
years old, he left the service finally, and gave himself up wholly to the
study of philosophy. For this purpose he retired to Holland, where he was
still somewhat restless[273]. But his chief centres were successively
Amsterdam, Egmond, not far from Alkmaar, and Endegeest, within easy
distance of the Hague. He returned to France more than once, and was
asked to settle at court, receiving from Mazarin a pension of 3000 livres.
But the troubles of the Fronde made Paris a distasteful and unsuitable
residence for him. He then accepted, at the end of 1649, an invitation from
Queen Christina of Sweden and went to Stockholm, where the severe
weather and the gracious habit which the queen had of summoning him for
discussion at five o'clock in the morning (he had all his life when not on
active service made a point of not rising till eleven), put an end to his life,
by inflammation of the lungs, on Feb. 11, 1650.
The works of Descartes are numerous, though few of them are of very great
extent. He wrote a treatise (not now extant) on the art of fencing when he
was but sixteen; and during the succeeding years small treatises on different
points, chiefly of mathematics and natural theology, constantly issued from
his pen, though he was not a ready writer. The works which alone concern
us here are his famous Discours de la Méthode, 1637, and his letters. The
Méditations, of equal importance philosophically with the Discours, and the
Principia Philosophiæ, a rehandling of the two, were originally published
in Latin. No attempt can here be made to give any account of Descartes'
mathematical, physical, and metaphysical speculations, or of the means by
which he endeavoured to work out his great principle, that all knowledge
Page 393
springs from certain ideas clearly and distinctly conceived, and is deducible
mathematically, or rather logically, from these principles.
Until and including Victor Cousin, who, though his own style has some
drawbacks, was a keen judge and a fervent admirer of the best classical
French, French writers have always regarded the style of Descartes as one
of the most remarkable, and above all the most original in the language.
There cannot be the slightest doubt in the mind of any one historically
acquainted with that language, and accustomed to judge style critically, that
the opinion is a thoroughly sound one. Of late, however, there have been
dissidents, and their opinion has been strangely adopted by the latest
English biographer of Descartes[274]. Controversy as a rule is out of place in
these pages, but on this particular point, involving as it does one of the most
important questions in French literary history—the proper distribution of
the epochs of style—an exception must be made. According to Mr.
Mahaffy's view it is Descartes' few letters to Balzac which have gained him
a reputation for style, but he is 'seldom more than clear and correct;' he is
'seldom grand, not often amusing.' The temptation to enlarge on this
singular definition of style as that which is grand or amusing must be
resisted. Those who have followed the foregoing pages will perceive that
the refusal to recognise in a writer who is 'seldom more than clear and
correct' (Descartes is a great deal more than this, but no matter) the
characteristics of a master of style arises from ignorance of what the
characteristics and drawbacks of French style had hitherto been.
Prose style may be divided, as conveniently as in any other way, into the
style of description or narration, and the style of discussion or argument.
The former deals with the imagination, with the passions, with outward
events, with conversation; the latter with the reason only. The former
propounds images, the latter ideas. The former constructs a picture, the
latter reduces words to their simplest terms as symbols of thought. French
had been making very rapid progress in the former division of style, though
there was much left to be done; in the latter it was yet entirely at its
rudiments. Before Descartes there are three masters of this latter style, and
three only, Rabelais, Calvin, and Montaigne. There is little doubt that
Rabelais might have anticipated Descartes, had it not been for the fact, first,
that, except on rare occasions, he chose to wrap himself in the grotesque;
and, secondly, that he came before the innovations of the Pléiade had
mathematically, or rather logically, from these principles.
Until and including Victor Cousin, who, though his own style has some
drawbacks, was a keen judge and a fervent admirer of the best classical
French, French writers have always regarded the style of Descartes as one
of the most remarkable, and above all the most original in the language.
There cannot be the slightest doubt in the mind of any one historically
acquainted with that language, and accustomed to judge style critically, that
the opinion is a thoroughly sound one. Of late, however, there have been
dissidents, and their opinion has been strangely adopted by the latest
English biographer of Descartes[274]. Controversy as a rule is out of place in
these pages, but on this particular point, involving as it does one of the most
important questions in French literary history—the proper distribution of
the epochs of style—an exception must be made. According to Mr.
Mahaffy's view it is Descartes' few letters to Balzac which have gained him
a reputation for style, but he is 'seldom more than clear and correct;' he is
'seldom grand, not often amusing.' The temptation to enlarge on this
singular definition of style as that which is grand or amusing must be
resisted. Those who have followed the foregoing pages will perceive that
the refusal to recognise in a writer who is 'seldom more than clear and
correct' (Descartes is a great deal more than this, but no matter) the
characteristics of a master of style arises from ignorance of what the
characteristics and drawbacks of French style had hitherto been.
Prose style may be divided, as conveniently as in any other way, into the
style of description or narration, and the style of discussion or argument.
The former deals with the imagination, with the passions, with outward
events, with conversation; the latter with the reason only. The former
propounds images, the latter ideas. The former constructs a picture, the
latter reduces words to their simplest terms as symbols of thought. French
had been making very rapid progress in the former division of style, though
there was much left to be done; in the latter it was yet entirely at its
rudiments. Before Descartes there are three masters of this latter style, and
three only, Rabelais, Calvin, and Montaigne. There is little doubt that
Rabelais might have anticipated Descartes, had it not been for the fact, first,
that, except on rare occasions, he chose to wrap himself in the grotesque;
and, secondly, that he came before the innovations of the Pléiade had
Page 394
enriched the language, and the reaction against the Pléiade had pruned off
the superfluity of richness. Calvin was also exposed to this second
drawback, and had besides a defect of idiosyncrasy in a certain dryness and
heaviness allied with, and partly resulting from, a too close adherence to
Latin forms. Montaigne again, like Rabelais, deliberately refuses to be
bound by the mere requirements of argument, and expatiates into all sorts of
digressions, partaking of the other style, the style of description. If any one
will take the famous passage of Descartes already referred to (the passage
in which he describes how being in winter quarters, with nothing to do and
sitting all day long by a warm stove, he started the train of thought which
ended or began in Cogito ergo sum), and, having a good acquaintance with
the three authors just mentioned, will imagine how the same facts and
arguments would have appeared in their language, he will not find it
difficult to realise the difference. The grotesque by-play and the archaic
vocabulary of Gargantua, the garrulous digression and anecdote of the
Essays, are not more strikingly absent than the jejune scholasticism which
is the worse side of Calvin's grave and noble style. The author does not
think it necessary to attract his readers with ornament, nor to repel them
with dry and barren marshalling of technicalities. All is simple,
straightforward, admirably clear, but at the same time the prose is fluent,
modulated, harmonious, and possesses, if not the grace of superadded
ornament, those of perfect proportion and unerring choice of words.
As a prose writer Descartes is generally compared to his contemporary, and
in some sort predecessor, Balzac, and his advantage over the author of the
Socrate Chrétien is stated to lie chiefly in the superiority of his matter. This
is not quite the fact. Balzac had, indeed, aimed at the simplicity and
classical perfection of Descartes, but he had not attained it; he still has
much of the quaintness of Montaigne, though it must be remembered that in
comparisons of this kind censure bestowed on the authors compared is
relative not positive, and that Descartes could no more have written the
Essays than Montaigne the Discours. Descartes has almost entirely
discarded this quaintness, which sometimes passed into what is called in
French clinquant, that is to say, tawdry and grotesque ornament. It is a
peculiarity of his that no single description of his sentences fully describes
their form. They are always perfectly clear, but they are sometimes very
long. Their length, however, as is the case with some English authors of the
the superfluity of richness. Calvin was also exposed to this second
drawback, and had besides a defect of idiosyncrasy in a certain dryness and
heaviness allied with, and partly resulting from, a too close adherence to
Latin forms. Montaigne again, like Rabelais, deliberately refuses to be
bound by the mere requirements of argument, and expatiates into all sorts of
digressions, partaking of the other style, the style of description. If any one
will take the famous passage of Descartes already referred to (the passage
in which he describes how being in winter quarters, with nothing to do and
sitting all day long by a warm stove, he started the train of thought which
ended or began in Cogito ergo sum), and, having a good acquaintance with
the three authors just mentioned, will imagine how the same facts and
arguments would have appeared in their language, he will not find it
difficult to realise the difference. The grotesque by-play and the archaic
vocabulary of Gargantua, the garrulous digression and anecdote of the
Essays, are not more strikingly absent than the jejune scholasticism which
is the worse side of Calvin's grave and noble style. The author does not
think it necessary to attract his readers with ornament, nor to repel them
with dry and barren marshalling of technicalities. All is simple,
straightforward, admirably clear, but at the same time the prose is fluent,
modulated, harmonious, and possesses, if not the grace of superadded
ornament, those of perfect proportion and unerring choice of words.
As a prose writer Descartes is generally compared to his contemporary, and
in some sort predecessor, Balzac, and his advantage over the author of the
Socrate Chrétien is stated to lie chiefly in the superiority of his matter. This
is not quite the fact. Balzac had, indeed, aimed at the simplicity and
classical perfection of Descartes, but he had not attained it; he still has
much of the quaintness of Montaigne, though it must be remembered that in
comparisons of this kind censure bestowed on the authors compared is
relative not positive, and that Descartes could no more have written the
Essays than Montaigne the Discours. Descartes has almost entirely
discarded this quaintness, which sometimes passed into what is called in
French clinquant, that is to say, tawdry and grotesque ornament. It is a
peculiarity of his that no single description of his sentences fully describes
their form. They are always perfectly clear, but they are sometimes very
long. Their length, however, as is the case with some English authors of the
Page 395
same century, is more apparent than real, the writer having chosen to link
by conjunctions clauses which are independently finished, and which, by
different punctuation even without the omission of the conjunction, might
stand alone. The mistake of saying that Descartes is nothing more than clear
and correct can only arise from an imperfect appreciation of the language.
Let, for instance, his condemnation of scholastic method in the Discours be
taken. Here the matter is interesting enough, and the comparison with the
gorgeous but unphilosophical disdain which Bacon is wont to pour on the
studies of the past is interesting also. But we are busied with the form. In
the first place, any one must be struck with the modernness of the phrase
and style. With insignificant exceptions there is nothing which would not be
most excellent French to-day. Further examination of the phrase will show
that there is much more in it than mere clearness and correctness, admirably
clear and correct as it is. There is no 'spilth of adjectives,' as it has been
termed. The words are just so many as are necessary for clear, correct, and
elegant expression of the thought. But it is in the selection of them that the
master of style appears. The happy phrase, 'La gentillesse des fables réveille
l'esprit;' the comparison of the reading of the best authors not merely to a
conversation, but a conversation étudiée, in which the speakers 'show only
their best thoughts;' the contrast between eloquence and poetry (too often
forgotten by the writer's countrymen); the ironic touch[275] in the eulogium
on philosophy; all these things show style in its very rarest and highest form
—the form which enables the writer to say the most, and to say it most
forcibly with the least expenditure of the stores of the dictionary. One sees
at once that the requirement of one of the greatest French writers of our
time, that the master of style 'shall be able to express at once any idea that
presents itself requiring expression,' is fully, and more than fully, met by
Descartes; and one sees also how the miracles of expression which Pascal,
La Rochefoucauld, Bossuet, were to produce became possible, and who
showed them the way. It may be asserted, without the slightest fear, that the
more thoroughly Descartes is studied with the necessary apparatus of
knowledge, the more firmly will his claims in this direction be established.
It is not superfluous to call attention to the fact that the Discours de la
Méthode appeared within a few months of the Cid. Thus it happened that
the first complete models of French classical style in prose and verse, and
two of the most remarkable examples of that style which have ever been
by conjunctions clauses which are independently finished, and which, by
different punctuation even without the omission of the conjunction, might
stand alone. The mistake of saying that Descartes is nothing more than clear
and correct can only arise from an imperfect appreciation of the language.
Let, for instance, his condemnation of scholastic method in the Discours be
taken. Here the matter is interesting enough, and the comparison with the
gorgeous but unphilosophical disdain which Bacon is wont to pour on the
studies of the past is interesting also. But we are busied with the form. In
the first place, any one must be struck with the modernness of the phrase
and style. With insignificant exceptions there is nothing which would not be
most excellent French to-day. Further examination of the phrase will show
that there is much more in it than mere clearness and correctness, admirably
clear and correct as it is. There is no 'spilth of adjectives,' as it has been
termed. The words are just so many as are necessary for clear, correct, and
elegant expression of the thought. But it is in the selection of them that the
master of style appears. The happy phrase, 'La gentillesse des fables réveille
l'esprit;' the comparison of the reading of the best authors not merely to a
conversation, but a conversation étudiée, in which the speakers 'show only
their best thoughts;' the contrast between eloquence and poetry (too often
forgotten by the writer's countrymen); the ironic touch[275] in the eulogium
on philosophy; all these things show style in its very rarest and highest form
—the form which enables the writer to say the most, and to say it most
forcibly with the least expenditure of the stores of the dictionary. One sees
at once that the requirement of one of the greatest French writers of our
time, that the master of style 'shall be able to express at once any idea that
presents itself requiring expression,' is fully, and more than fully, met by
Descartes; and one sees also how the miracles of expression which Pascal,
La Rochefoucauld, Bossuet, were to produce became possible, and who
showed them the way. It may be asserted, without the slightest fear, that the
more thoroughly Descartes is studied with the necessary apparatus of
knowledge, the more firmly will his claims in this direction be established.
It is not superfluous to call attention to the fact that the Discours de la
Méthode appeared within a few months of the Cid. Thus it happened that
the first complete models of French classical style in prose and verse, and
two of the most remarkable examples of that style which have ever been
Page 396
produced, were given to the public as nearly as possible
contemporaneously. This fact, and the brilliant group of imitators who
almost immediately availed themselves of the examples, prove satisfactorily
how powerful were the influences which produced the change, and over
how wide a circle they worked. As the influence of Descartes was thus no
less literary than philosophical, it followed naturally enough that his school
(which soon included almost all the men of intellectual eminence in France)
preserved literary as well as philosophical traditions. This school, so far as
it concerns French literature, may be said to have produced two remarkable
individuals and one remarkable group. The group was the school of Port
Royal; the individuals were Malebranche and Bayle.
contemporaneously. This fact, and the brilliant group of imitators who
almost immediately availed themselves of the examples, prove satisfactorily
how powerful were the influences which produced the change, and over
how wide a circle they worked. As the influence of Descartes was thus no
less literary than philosophical, it followed naturally enough that his school
(which soon included almost all the men of intellectual eminence in France)
preserved literary as well as philosophical traditions. This school, so far as
it concerns French literature, may be said to have produced two remarkable
individuals and one remarkable group. The group was the school of Port
Royal; the individuals were Malebranche and Bayle.
Page 397
We are not here concerned with the religious fortunes of
the community of Port Royal[276]. It is sufficient to say Port Royal.
that it was originally a nunnery at no great distance from
Versailles, that it underwent a great religious revival under the influence of
St. Francis de Sales and Mère Angélique Arnauld, and that, chiefly owing to
the inspiration of the Abbé de St. Cyran, there was engrafted on it a
community of Solitaires of the other sex, who busied themselves in study,
in religious exercises, in manual labour, and in the education of youth. The
society was early imbued with Jansenist principles, which brought it into
violent conflict with the Jesuits, and eventually led to its persecution and
destruction. It was also the head-quarters of a somewhat modified
Cartesianism, and this, with its importance as a centre of literary instruction
and its intimate connection with many famous men of letters, such as
Pascal, Nicole, and Racine, gives it a place in the history of literature. The
most remarkable work of an educational kind which proceeded from it was
the famous Port Royal Logic, or 'Art of Thinking,' which seems to have
been a work of collaboration, Arnauld and Nicole being the chief authors.
This, though open to criticism from the point of view of the logician, had a
very great influence in making the methodical treatment and clear luminous
exposition which were characteristic of the Cartesian school common in
French writers. Of the two authors just mentioned, Arnauld was the greater
thinker, Nicole by far the better writer. He was, in fact, a sort of minor
Pascal, his Lettres sur les Visionnaires corresponding to the Provinciales of
his greater contemporary, while he was the author of Pensées, which, unlike
Pascal's, were regularly finished, and which, though much inferior to them,
have something of the same character. The intellectual activity of Port
Royal was very considerable, but most of it was directed into channels
which were not purely literary, owing partly to incessant controversies
brought on by the differences between the community and the Jesuits, partly
to the cultivation of philosophical subjects. The age was perhaps the most
controversial that Europe has ever seen, and the comparative absence of
periodicals (which were only in their infancy) threw the controversies
necessarily into book form, as letters, pamphlets, or even volumes of
considerable size. But no very large portion of this controversial matter
deserves the name of literature, and much of it was written in Latin. Thus
Gassendi, the upholder of Neo-Epicurean opinions in opposition to
the community of Port Royal[276]. It is sufficient to say Port Royal.
that it was originally a nunnery at no great distance from
Versailles, that it underwent a great religious revival under the influence of
St. Francis de Sales and Mère Angélique Arnauld, and that, chiefly owing to
the inspiration of the Abbé de St. Cyran, there was engrafted on it a
community of Solitaires of the other sex, who busied themselves in study,
in religious exercises, in manual labour, and in the education of youth. The
society was early imbued with Jansenist principles, which brought it into
violent conflict with the Jesuits, and eventually led to its persecution and
destruction. It was also the head-quarters of a somewhat modified
Cartesianism, and this, with its importance as a centre of literary instruction
and its intimate connection with many famous men of letters, such as
Pascal, Nicole, and Racine, gives it a place in the history of literature. The
most remarkable work of an educational kind which proceeded from it was
the famous Port Royal Logic, or 'Art of Thinking,' which seems to have
been a work of collaboration, Arnauld and Nicole being the chief authors.
This, though open to criticism from the point of view of the logician, had a
very great influence in making the methodical treatment and clear luminous
exposition which were characteristic of the Cartesian school common in
French writers. Of the two authors just mentioned, Arnauld was the greater
thinker, Nicole by far the better writer. He was, in fact, a sort of minor
Pascal, his Lettres sur les Visionnaires corresponding to the Provinciales of
his greater contemporary, while he was the author of Pensées, which, unlike
Pascal's, were regularly finished, and which, though much inferior to them,
have something of the same character. The intellectual activity of Port
Royal was very considerable, but most of it was directed into channels
which were not purely literary, owing partly to incessant controversies
brought on by the differences between the community and the Jesuits, partly
to the cultivation of philosophical subjects. The age was perhaps the most
controversial that Europe has ever seen, and the comparative absence of
periodicals (which were only in their infancy) threw the controversies
necessarily into book form, as letters, pamphlets, or even volumes of
considerable size. But no very large portion of this controversial matter
deserves the name of literature, and much of it was written in Latin. Thus
Gassendi, the upholder of Neo-Epicurean opinions in opposition to
Page 398
Descartes, and beyond all question the greatest French philosopher of the
century after Descartes and Malebranche, hardly belongs to French
literature, though his Latin works are of great bulk and no small literary
merit. The Gassendian school soon gave birth to a small but influential
school of materialist freethinkers. What may be called the school of
orthodox doubt, which had been represented by Montaigne and Charron,
had, as has been said, a representative in La Mothe le Vayer. But this special
kind of scepticism was already antiquated, if not obsolete, and it was
succeeded, on the one side, by the above-mentioned freethinkers, who were
also to a great extent free livers[277], and whose most remarkable literary
figure was Saint Evremond; on the other, by a school of learned
Pyrrhonists, whose most remarkable representative in every respect was
Pierre Bayle.
Bayle was born in the south of France in 1647, and, like
almost all the men of letters of his time, was educated by Bayle.
the Jesuits. He was of a Protestant family, and was
converted by his teachers, his conversion being however so little of a solid
one that he reverted to Protestantism in less than two years. After this he
resided for some time in Switzerland, studying Cartesianism. In 1675 he
was made Professor of Philosophy at Sedan, a post which he held for six
years, moving thence to Rotterdam. Here he began to write numerous
articles and works in the periodicals, which were slowly becoming
fashionable, especially in Holland. They were mostly critical, and dealt with
scientific, historical, philosophical, and theological subjects. Bayle's
utterances on the latter subject, and especially his pleas for toleration,
brought him into a troublesome controversy with Jurieu, and in 1693 he was
deprived of his professorship, or at least of his right to lecture. He then
devoted himself to the famous Dictionary which is identified with his name,
and which, though by no means the first encyclopædia of modern times (for
Alsten, Moreri, Hoffmann, and others had preceded him within the
century), was by far the most influential and most original yet produced. It
appeared in 1696, and brought him new troubles, which were not however
of a serious character. He died in 1706.
The scepticism of which Bayle was the exponent was purely critical and
intellectual. He was not in the least an enemy of the moral system of
Christianity, nor even, it would appear, an enemy to Christianity itself. But
century after Descartes and Malebranche, hardly belongs to French
literature, though his Latin works are of great bulk and no small literary
merit. The Gassendian school soon gave birth to a small but influential
school of materialist freethinkers. What may be called the school of
orthodox doubt, which had been represented by Montaigne and Charron,
had, as has been said, a representative in La Mothe le Vayer. But this special
kind of scepticism was already antiquated, if not obsolete, and it was
succeeded, on the one side, by the above-mentioned freethinkers, who were
also to a great extent free livers[277], and whose most remarkable literary
figure was Saint Evremond; on the other, by a school of learned
Pyrrhonists, whose most remarkable representative in every respect was
Pierre Bayle.
Bayle was born in the south of France in 1647, and, like
almost all the men of letters of his time, was educated by Bayle.
the Jesuits. He was of a Protestant family, and was
converted by his teachers, his conversion being however so little of a solid
one that he reverted to Protestantism in less than two years. After this he
resided for some time in Switzerland, studying Cartesianism. In 1675 he
was made Professor of Philosophy at Sedan, a post which he held for six
years, moving thence to Rotterdam. Here he began to write numerous
articles and works in the periodicals, which were slowly becoming
fashionable, especially in Holland. They were mostly critical, and dealt with
scientific, historical, philosophical, and theological subjects. Bayle's
utterances on the latter subject, and especially his pleas for toleration,
brought him into a troublesome controversy with Jurieu, and in 1693 he was
deprived of his professorship, or at least of his right to lecture. He then
devoted himself to the famous Dictionary which is identified with his name,
and which, though by no means the first encyclopædia of modern times (for
Alsten, Moreri, Hoffmann, and others had preceded him within the
century), was by far the most influential and most original yet produced. It
appeared in 1696, and brought him new troubles, which were not however
of a serious character. He died in 1706.
The scepticism of which Bayle was the exponent was purely critical and
intellectual. He was not in the least an enemy of the moral system of
Christianity, nor even, it would appear, an enemy to Christianity itself. But
Page 399
his intellect was constitutionally disposed to see the objections to all things
rather than the arguments in their favour, and to take a pleasure in stating
these objections. Thus, though he was after his religious oscillations
nominally an orthodox Protestant, the tendency of his works was to impugn
points held by Protestants and Catholics alike, and though he was nominally
a Cartesian, he was equally far from yielding an implicit belief to the
doctrines of Descartes. His most famous work is the reverse of methodical.
The subjects are chosen almost at random, and are very frequently nothing
but pegs on which to hang notes and digressions in which the author
indulges his critical and dissolvent faculty. Nor is the style by any means a
model. But it is lively, clear, and interesting, and no doubt had a good deal
to do with the vast popularity of his book in the eighteenth century. Bayle
had a strong influence on Voltaire, and though he had less to do with his
follower's style than Saint Evremond and Pascal, he is nearer to him in
spirit than either. The difference perhaps may be said to be that Bayle's
pleasure in negative criticism is almost purely intellectual. There is but little
in him of the half-childish mischievousness which distinguishes Voltaire.
Cartesianism was not less likely than its opposites to
lead to philosophical scepticism, but in the main its Malebranche.
professors, taking their master's conduct for model,
remained orthodox. In that case, however, the Cartesian idealism had a
tendency to pass into mysticism. Of those in whom it took this form Nicolas
Malebranche[278] was the unquestioned chief. He was born at Paris, where
his father held a lucrative office; in 1638, and from his birth had very feeble
health. When he was of age he became an Oratorian, and passed the whole
of his long life in study and literary work, sometimes being engaged in
controversies on the compatibility of his system—the famous 'Vision in
God,' and 'Spiritual Existence in God'—with orthodoxy, but never receiving
any formal censure from the Church. Despite his bad health he lived to the
age of seventy-seven, dying in 1715. A curious story is told of a verbal
argument between him and Berkeley on the eve of his death. He wrote
several works in French, such as a Traité de Morale, Conversations
Métaphysiques, etc., but his greatest and most remarkable contribution to
French literature is his Recherche de la Vérité, published in 1674, which
unfolds his system. From the literary point of view the Recherche is one of
the most considerable books of the philosophical class ever produced.
rather than the arguments in their favour, and to take a pleasure in stating
these objections. Thus, though he was after his religious oscillations
nominally an orthodox Protestant, the tendency of his works was to impugn
points held by Protestants and Catholics alike, and though he was nominally
a Cartesian, he was equally far from yielding an implicit belief to the
doctrines of Descartes. His most famous work is the reverse of methodical.
The subjects are chosen almost at random, and are very frequently nothing
but pegs on which to hang notes and digressions in which the author
indulges his critical and dissolvent faculty. Nor is the style by any means a
model. But it is lively, clear, and interesting, and no doubt had a good deal
to do with the vast popularity of his book in the eighteenth century. Bayle
had a strong influence on Voltaire, and though he had less to do with his
follower's style than Saint Evremond and Pascal, he is nearer to him in
spirit than either. The difference perhaps may be said to be that Bayle's
pleasure in negative criticism is almost purely intellectual. There is but little
in him of the half-childish mischievousness which distinguishes Voltaire.
Cartesianism was not less likely than its opposites to
lead to philosophical scepticism, but in the main its Malebranche.
professors, taking their master's conduct for model,
remained orthodox. In that case, however, the Cartesian idealism had a
tendency to pass into mysticism. Of those in whom it took this form Nicolas
Malebranche[278] was the unquestioned chief. He was born at Paris, where
his father held a lucrative office; in 1638, and from his birth had very feeble
health. When he was of age he became an Oratorian, and passed the whole
of his long life in study and literary work, sometimes being engaged in
controversies on the compatibility of his system—the famous 'Vision in
God,' and 'Spiritual Existence in God'—with orthodoxy, but never receiving
any formal censure from the Church. Despite his bad health he lived to the
age of seventy-seven, dying in 1715. A curious story is told of a verbal
argument between him and Berkeley on the eve of his death. He wrote
several works in French, such as a Traité de Morale, Conversations
Métaphysiques, etc., but his greatest and most remarkable contribution to
French literature is his Recherche de la Vérité, published in 1674, which
unfolds his system. From the literary point of view the Recherche is one of
the most considerable books of the philosophical class ever produced.
Page 400
Unlike the various works of Descartes it is of very great length, filling three
volumes in the original edition, and a thousand pages of close type in the
most handy modern reprint. It also deals with subjects of an exceedingly
abstract character, and is not diversified by any elaborate illustrations, any
machinery like that of Plato or Berkeley, or any passages of set eloquence.
The purity and beauty of the style, however, and its extraordinary lucidity,
make it a book of which it is difficult to tire. The chief mechanical
difference between the style of Malebranche and that of his master is that
his sentences are shorter. They are, however, framed with equal care as to
rhythm and to logical arrangement. The metaphor of limpidity is very
frequently applied to style, but perhaps there is hardly any to which it may
be applied with such propriety as to the style of Malebranche.
FOOTNOTES:
[272] Not fully edited yet. Cousin's edition is the fullest, but the important
French works figure in many popular collections and are easily accessible.
[273] He was 'as restless as a hyæna,' says De Quincey, not unjustly.
[274] Professor Mahaffy, Descartes. Blackwood, 1880.
[275] 'La philosophie donne moyen de parler vraisemblablement de toutes
choses, et se faire admirer des moins savants.'
[276] Sainte-Beuve, Port Royal. 6 vols. Paris, 1859-61.
[277] These men, such as Saint Ibal, Bardouville, Desbarreaux, and others,
figure largely in the anecdotic history of the time. In the persons of Théophile
and Saint Evremond they touch on literature: but for the most part they were
chiefly distinguished by revolting coarseness and blasphemy of expression, and
by a childish delight in outraging religious sentiment, which was often changed
into abject terror or hypocritical compliance as death approached. They were
commonly called philosophes, a degradation of the word which was not much
mended in the next century, though it then acquired a more strictly literary
meaning.
[278] Ed. Simon. 1854.
volumes in the original edition, and a thousand pages of close type in the
most handy modern reprint. It also deals with subjects of an exceedingly
abstract character, and is not diversified by any elaborate illustrations, any
machinery like that of Plato or Berkeley, or any passages of set eloquence.
The purity and beauty of the style, however, and its extraordinary lucidity,
make it a book of which it is difficult to tire. The chief mechanical
difference between the style of Malebranche and that of his master is that
his sentences are shorter. They are, however, framed with equal care as to
rhythm and to logical arrangement. The metaphor of limpidity is very
frequently applied to style, but perhaps there is hardly any to which it may
be applied with such propriety as to the style of Malebranche.
FOOTNOTES:
[272] Not fully edited yet. Cousin's edition is the fullest, but the important
French works figure in many popular collections and are easily accessible.
[273] He was 'as restless as a hyæna,' says De Quincey, not unjustly.
[274] Professor Mahaffy, Descartes. Blackwood, 1880.
[275] 'La philosophie donne moyen de parler vraisemblablement de toutes
choses, et se faire admirer des moins savants.'
[276] Sainte-Beuve, Port Royal. 6 vols. Paris, 1859-61.
[277] These men, such as Saint Ibal, Bardouville, Desbarreaux, and others,
figure largely in the anecdotic history of the time. In the persons of Théophile
and Saint Evremond they touch on literature: but for the most part they were
chiefly distinguished by revolting coarseness and blasphemy of expression, and
by a childish delight in outraging religious sentiment, which was often changed
into abject terror or hypocritical compliance as death approached. They were
commonly called philosophes, a degradation of the word which was not much
mended in the next century, though it then acquired a more strictly literary
meaning.
[278] Ed. Simon. 1854.
Page 401
CHAPTER VII.
THEOLOGIANS AND PREACHERS.
There is no period in the whole course of French literature in which
theological writers and orators contribute so much to literary history as in
the seventeenth century. The causes of this energy can only be summarily
indicated here. They were the various sequelae of the Reformation and the
counter-reformation, the latter of which was in France extraordinarily
powerful; the influence of Richelieu and Mazarin in politics, which assured
to the Church a great predominance in the State, while its rival, the
territorial aristocracy, was depressed and persecuted; the personal
inclination of Louis XIV., who made up for his loose manner of life by the
straitest doctrinal orthodoxy; but perhaps most of all the accidental
determination of various men of great talents and energy to the
ecclesiastical profession. Bossuet, Fénelon, Bourdaloue, Massillon,
Fléchier, Mascaron, Claude, Saurin, to name no others, could hardly have
failed to distinguish themselves in any department of literature which they
had chosen. Circumstances of accident threw them into work more or less
wholly theological.
This peculiarity of the century, however, belongs chiefly
to its third and fourth quarters. The first preacher and St. François de
Sales.
theologian of literary eminence in this period belongs
about equally to it and to the preceding, but his most remarkable work dates
from this time. François de Sales was born at Annecy in 1567. He was
destined for the law, and completed his education for it at Paris, but his
vocation for the church was stronger, and he took orders in 1593. He soon
distinguished himself by reconverting a considerable number of persons to
the Roman form of faith in the district of Chablais, and at the beginning of
the seventeenth century preached at Paris, and latterly at Dijon. He was
soon made bishop of Geneva, an episcopate which, it need hardly be said,
might almost be described as in partibus infidelium. But in the south of
France, in Savoy, and in Paris itself, his influence was great. His chief
works are the 'Introduction to a Devout Life' (1608), the Traité de l'Amour
THEOLOGIANS AND PREACHERS.
There is no period in the whole course of French literature in which
theological writers and orators contribute so much to literary history as in
the seventeenth century. The causes of this energy can only be summarily
indicated here. They were the various sequelae of the Reformation and the
counter-reformation, the latter of which was in France extraordinarily
powerful; the influence of Richelieu and Mazarin in politics, which assured
to the Church a great predominance in the State, while its rival, the
territorial aristocracy, was depressed and persecuted; the personal
inclination of Louis XIV., who made up for his loose manner of life by the
straitest doctrinal orthodoxy; but perhaps most of all the accidental
determination of various men of great talents and energy to the
ecclesiastical profession. Bossuet, Fénelon, Bourdaloue, Massillon,
Fléchier, Mascaron, Claude, Saurin, to name no others, could hardly have
failed to distinguish themselves in any department of literature which they
had chosen. Circumstances of accident threw them into work more or less
wholly theological.
This peculiarity of the century, however, belongs chiefly
to its third and fourth quarters. The first preacher and St. François de
Sales.
theologian of literary eminence in this period belongs
about equally to it and to the preceding, but his most remarkable work dates
from this time. François de Sales was born at Annecy in 1567. He was
destined for the law, and completed his education for it at Paris, but his
vocation for the church was stronger, and he took orders in 1593. He soon
distinguished himself by reconverting a considerable number of persons to
the Roman form of faith in the district of Chablais, and at the beginning of
the seventeenth century preached at Paris, and latterly at Dijon. He was
soon made bishop of Geneva, an episcopate which, it need hardly be said,
might almost be described as in partibus infidelium. But in the south of
France, in Savoy, and in Paris itself, his influence was great. His chief
works are the 'Introduction to a Devout Life' (1608), the Traité de l'Amour
Page 402
de Dieu, 'Spiritual Letters' (to Madame de Chantal), and sermons. His style
is by no means destitute of archaism, but it is clear, fluent, and agreeable.
He and Fenouillet, bishop of Marseilles, with other preachers whose names
are now forgotten, were the chief instruments in recovering the art of sacred
oratory from the low estate into which it had fallen during the heat of the
religious wars and the League, when it had been disgraced alternately by
violence and buffoonery. But the Thirty Years' War and the Fronde were
again unfavourable to theological discussion, except of a quasi-political
kind, and the best spirits of this time threw themselves into the unpopular
direction of Jansenism. The 'Siècle de Louis Quatorze' proper, that is the
period subsequent to 1660, was the palmy time, from the literary point of
view, of theological eloquence and discussion in France.
Of the authors already named Bossuet deserves
precedence in almost every respect except that of private Bossuet.
character. Jacques Benigne Bossuet[279] was born at
Dijon, in 1627, of a family of distinction in the middle class. He went to
school to the Jesuits in his native town, and finished his education at the
Collège de Navarre in Paris, receiving his doctor's degree and a canonry at
Metz in 1652. He soon distinguished himself both as an orator and a
controversialist, preached before the king in Advent 1661, and in 1669 was
appointed to the bishopric of Condom. His subsequent appointment to the
post of tutor to the Dauphin made him resign his bishopric; but on the
completion of his task (in virtue of which he had been elected to the
Academy in 1680) he was made almoner to the prince, and in the following
year received the bishopric of Meaux. He was soon after engaged in the
Gallican controversy, in which he defended not so much the rights of the
Church as the claims of the royal prerogative. The most unfortunate
incident of his life was his controversy with Fénelon. Bossuet, though
thoroughly learned in some respects, was not a man of the widest culture,
and the whole region of mystical theology was unknown to him. He,
therefore, mistook certain utterances of the archbishop of Cambray, which
were neither new nor alarming, for heterodox innovations, and began a
violent polemic against him. Supported by the king, he was able to obtain a
nominal victory, but the moral success rested with Fénelon, and still more
the advantage in the literary duel. Bossuet died in 1704. His works were
very numerous, and of very various kinds. His first reputation was, as has
is by no means destitute of archaism, but it is clear, fluent, and agreeable.
He and Fenouillet, bishop of Marseilles, with other preachers whose names
are now forgotten, were the chief instruments in recovering the art of sacred
oratory from the low estate into which it had fallen during the heat of the
religious wars and the League, when it had been disgraced alternately by
violence and buffoonery. But the Thirty Years' War and the Fronde were
again unfavourable to theological discussion, except of a quasi-political
kind, and the best spirits of this time threw themselves into the unpopular
direction of Jansenism. The 'Siècle de Louis Quatorze' proper, that is the
period subsequent to 1660, was the palmy time, from the literary point of
view, of theological eloquence and discussion in France.
Of the authors already named Bossuet deserves
precedence in almost every respect except that of private Bossuet.
character. Jacques Benigne Bossuet[279] was born at
Dijon, in 1627, of a family of distinction in the middle class. He went to
school to the Jesuits in his native town, and finished his education at the
Collège de Navarre in Paris, receiving his doctor's degree and a canonry at
Metz in 1652. He soon distinguished himself both as an orator and a
controversialist, preached before the king in Advent 1661, and in 1669 was
appointed to the bishopric of Condom. His subsequent appointment to the
post of tutor to the Dauphin made him resign his bishopric; but on the
completion of his task (in virtue of which he had been elected to the
Academy in 1680) he was made almoner to the prince, and in the following
year received the bishopric of Meaux. He was soon after engaged in the
Gallican controversy, in which he defended not so much the rights of the
Church as the claims of the royal prerogative. The most unfortunate
incident of his life was his controversy with Fénelon. Bossuet, though
thoroughly learned in some respects, was not a man of the widest culture,
and the whole region of mystical theology was unknown to him. He,
therefore, mistook certain utterances of the archbishop of Cambray, which
were neither new nor alarming, for heterodox innovations, and began a
violent polemic against him. Supported by the king, he was able to obtain a
nominal victory, but the moral success rested with Fénelon, and still more
the advantage in the literary duel. Bossuet died in 1704. His works were
very numerous, and of very various kinds. His first reputation was, as has
Page 403
been said, earned as a controversialist (his principal adversaries in this
respect were the Protestant ministers Ferri and Claude) and as a preacher on
general subjects. On his appointment to the see of Condom, however, he
struck out a new line, that of funeral discourses (oraisons funèbres), and
produced, on the occasions of the death of the two Henriettas of England,
mother and daughter, of the great Condé, of the Princess-Palatine, and of
others, works which are undoubtedly triumphs of French eloquence, and
which, with the exception of the best passages of Burke, are perhaps the
only things of the kind comparable to the masterpieces of antiquity. His
controversial work is equal in perfection of execution to his oratory, the
Exposition de la Doctrine de l'Église Catholique, and still more the Histoire
des Variations des Églises Protestantes, being deservedly regarded as
models of their kind, notwithstanding the obvious fallacy pervading the
latter. Of his other works the most remarkable (perhaps the most remarkable
of all if originality of conception and breadth of design be taken into
account) is his Discours sur l'Histoire Universelle jusqu'à l'Empire de
Charlemagne. This has, though not universally, been held to be the first
attempt at the philosophy of history, that is to say, the first work in which
general history is regarded and expounded from a single comprehensive
point of view, and laws of a universal kind drawn from it. In Bossuet's case
the point of view is, of course, strictly theological, and the laws are
arranged accordingly.
Bossuet's character was unamiable, and, despite the affected frankness with
which he spoke to the king, it will always remain a blot on his memory that
he did not seriously protest either against the loose life of Louis, or against
his ruinous ambition and lawless disregard of the rights of nations. There is,
however, no doubt whatever of his perfect sincerity and of the genuineness
of his belief in political autocracy, provided that the autocrat was a faithful
son of the Church. He was a Cartesian, and was probably not unindebted to
Descartes for the force and vigour of his reasonings, though he was hardly
so careful as his master in enlarging the field of his knowledge and assuring
the validity of his premises. The extraordinary majesty of his rhetoric,
perhaps, brings out by force of contrast the occasionally fallacious character
of his reasoning, but it must be confessed that even as a controversialist he
has few equals. The rhetorical excellence of the Oraisons and the gorgeous
sweep, not merely of the language but of the conception, in the Histoire
respect were the Protestant ministers Ferri and Claude) and as a preacher on
general subjects. On his appointment to the see of Condom, however, he
struck out a new line, that of funeral discourses (oraisons funèbres), and
produced, on the occasions of the death of the two Henriettas of England,
mother and daughter, of the great Condé, of the Princess-Palatine, and of
others, works which are undoubtedly triumphs of French eloquence, and
which, with the exception of the best passages of Burke, are perhaps the
only things of the kind comparable to the masterpieces of antiquity. His
controversial work is equal in perfection of execution to his oratory, the
Exposition de la Doctrine de l'Église Catholique, and still more the Histoire
des Variations des Églises Protestantes, being deservedly regarded as
models of their kind, notwithstanding the obvious fallacy pervading the
latter. Of his other works the most remarkable (perhaps the most remarkable
of all if originality of conception and breadth of design be taken into
account) is his Discours sur l'Histoire Universelle jusqu'à l'Empire de
Charlemagne. This has, though not universally, been held to be the first
attempt at the philosophy of history, that is to say, the first work in which
general history is regarded and expounded from a single comprehensive
point of view, and laws of a universal kind drawn from it. In Bossuet's case
the point of view is, of course, strictly theological, and the laws are
arranged accordingly.
Bossuet's character was unamiable, and, despite the affected frankness with
which he spoke to the king, it will always remain a blot on his memory that
he did not seriously protest either against the loose life of Louis, or against
his ruinous ambition and lawless disregard of the rights of nations. There is,
however, no doubt whatever of his perfect sincerity and of the genuineness
of his belief in political autocracy, provided that the autocrat was a faithful
son of the Church. He was a Cartesian, and was probably not unindebted to
Descartes for the force and vigour of his reasonings, though he was hardly
so careful as his master in enlarging the field of his knowledge and assuring
the validity of his premises. The extraordinary majesty of his rhetoric,
perhaps, brings out by force of contrast the occasionally fallacious character
of his reasoning, but it must be confessed that even as a controversialist he
has few equals. The rhetorical excellence of the Oraisons and the gorgeous
sweep, not merely of the language but of the conception, in the Histoire
Page 404
Universelle, show him at what is really his best; while many isolated
expressions betray at once an intimate knowledge of the human heart, and a
hardly surpassed faculty of clothing that knowledge in words. Bossuet no
doubt is more of a speaker than a writer. His excellence lies in the
wonderful survey, and grasp of the subject (qualities which make his
favourite literary nickname of the 'Eagle of Meaux' more than usually
appropriate), in the contagious enthusiasm and energy with which he
attacks his point, in his inexhaustible metaphors and comparisons. He has
not the unfailing charm of Malebranche, nor that which belongs in a less
degree, and with more mannerism, to Fénelon; he is very unequal, and
small blemishes of style abound in him. Thus, in his most famous passage,
the description of the sudden death of Henrietta of Orleans, occurs the
phrase 'comme un coup de tonnerre cette étonnante nouvelle,' a jingle of
words as unpleasant as it is easily avoided. But blemishes of this kind (and
it is, perhaps, noteworthy that French is more tolerant of them than almost
any other language of equal literary perfection) disappear in the volume and
force of the torrent of Bossuet's eloquence. It is fair to add that, though he is
almost always aiming at the sublime, he scarcely ever oversteps it, or falls
into the bombastic and the ridiculous. Even his elaborate eulogy (it would
hardly be fair to call it flattery) of the great is so cunningly balanced by
exposition of the nothingness of men and things, that it does not strike the
mind's eye with any immediate sense of glaring impropriety. The lack of
formal perfection which is sometimes noticeable in him is made up to a
greater degree almost than in any other writer by the intense force and
conviction of the speaker and the imposing majesty of his manner. It is
pretty certain that most attempts to imitate Bossuet would result in a
lamentable failure; and it is not a little significant that the only two
Frenchmen who in prose have shown themselves occasionally his rivals,
Michelet and Lamennais, are among the most unequal of writers.
The contrast between Bossuet and his chief rival was in
all respects great. To begin with, Fénelon was a much Fénelon.
younger man than Bossuet, belonging it might be said
almost to another generation. He inherited some of the noblest blood in
France, while Bossuet was but a roturier, and this may have had something
to do with the more independent character of Fénelon. Bossuet was a
vigorous student of certain defined branches of knowledge, but of general
expressions betray at once an intimate knowledge of the human heart, and a
hardly surpassed faculty of clothing that knowledge in words. Bossuet no
doubt is more of a speaker than a writer. His excellence lies in the
wonderful survey, and grasp of the subject (qualities which make his
favourite literary nickname of the 'Eagle of Meaux' more than usually
appropriate), in the contagious enthusiasm and energy with which he
attacks his point, in his inexhaustible metaphors and comparisons. He has
not the unfailing charm of Malebranche, nor that which belongs in a less
degree, and with more mannerism, to Fénelon; he is very unequal, and
small blemishes of style abound in him. Thus, in his most famous passage,
the description of the sudden death of Henrietta of Orleans, occurs the
phrase 'comme un coup de tonnerre cette étonnante nouvelle,' a jingle of
words as unpleasant as it is easily avoided. But blemishes of this kind (and
it is, perhaps, noteworthy that French is more tolerant of them than almost
any other language of equal literary perfection) disappear in the volume and
force of the torrent of Bossuet's eloquence. It is fair to add that, though he is
almost always aiming at the sublime, he scarcely ever oversteps it, or falls
into the bombastic and the ridiculous. Even his elaborate eulogy (it would
hardly be fair to call it flattery) of the great is so cunningly balanced by
exposition of the nothingness of men and things, that it does not strike the
mind's eye with any immediate sense of glaring impropriety. The lack of
formal perfection which is sometimes noticeable in him is made up to a
greater degree almost than in any other writer by the intense force and
conviction of the speaker and the imposing majesty of his manner. It is
pretty certain that most attempts to imitate Bossuet would result in a
lamentable failure; and it is not a little significant that the only two
Frenchmen who in prose have shown themselves occasionally his rivals,
Michelet and Lamennais, are among the most unequal of writers.
The contrast between Bossuet and his chief rival was in
all respects great. To begin with, Fénelon was a much Fénelon.
younger man than Bossuet, belonging it might be said
almost to another generation. He inherited some of the noblest blood in
France, while Bossuet was but a roturier, and this may have had something
to do with the more independent character of Fénelon. Bossuet was a
vigorous student of certain defined branches of knowledge, but of general
Page 405
literature he took little heed. Fénelon was a man of almost universal
reading, and one of the most original and soundest literary critics of his
time. Fénelon felt deeply for the misery of the French people; Bossuet does
not appear to have troubled himself about it. Finally Bossuet, with all his
merits, had grave faults of moral character, while to Fénelon—quite as
justly as to Berkeley—every virtue under heaven may be assigned. François
de Salignac de la Mothe-Fénelon[280] was born at the castle of the same
name in the province of Perigord, on August 16th, 1661. He was educated
first at home, then at Cahors, and then at the Collége de Plessis at Paris. He
finally studied in a theological seminary for some years, and did not
formally enter the Church till he was four-and-twenty. He then devoted
himself partly to the poor, partly to education, especially of girls, and his
treatise on this latter subject was his first work. In 1687 he was appointed
preceptor to the Duke de Bourgogne, son of Bossuet's pupil, and heir to the
throne. For the duke he wrote a great number of books, among them
Télémaque (or at least the first sketch of it). In 1697 he was appointed
archbishop of Cambray. Into his connection with Madame Guyon, the
celebrated apostle of quietism, and his consequent quarrel with Bossuet,
there is no need to enter further. Whichever of the two may have been
theologically in the right, there are no two opinions on the question that
Bossuet was in the wrong, both in the acrimony of his conduct and the
violence of his language. In the latter respect, indeed, he brought down
upon himself a well-deserved punishment. Fénelon was the mildest of men,
but he possessed a faculty of quiet irony inferior to that of no man then
living, and he used it with effect in the controversy against Bossuet's
declamatory denunciations. When, at last, the matter had been referred to
the Pope, and judgment had been given against himself, Fénelon at once
bowed to the decision and acknowledged his error. Louis, however, had
many more reasons for disliking him than the mere odium theologicum with
which Bossuet had inspired him. Fénelon was known to disapprove of
much in the actual government of France, and the surreptitious publication
of Télémaque completed his disgrace. He was banished from court and
confined to his diocese, in which he accordingly spent the last part of his
life, doing his best to alleviate the misery caused on the borders by the war
of the Spanish succession, and dying at Cambray in 1715.
reading, and one of the most original and soundest literary critics of his
time. Fénelon felt deeply for the misery of the French people; Bossuet does
not appear to have troubled himself about it. Finally Bossuet, with all his
merits, had grave faults of moral character, while to Fénelon—quite as
justly as to Berkeley—every virtue under heaven may be assigned. François
de Salignac de la Mothe-Fénelon[280] was born at the castle of the same
name in the province of Perigord, on August 16th, 1661. He was educated
first at home, then at Cahors, and then at the Collége de Plessis at Paris. He
finally studied in a theological seminary for some years, and did not
formally enter the Church till he was four-and-twenty. He then devoted
himself partly to the poor, partly to education, especially of girls, and his
treatise on this latter subject was his first work. In 1687 he was appointed
preceptor to the Duke de Bourgogne, son of Bossuet's pupil, and heir to the
throne. For the duke he wrote a great number of books, among them
Télémaque (or at least the first sketch of it). In 1697 he was appointed
archbishop of Cambray. Into his connection with Madame Guyon, the
celebrated apostle of quietism, and his consequent quarrel with Bossuet,
there is no need to enter further. Whichever of the two may have been
theologically in the right, there are no two opinions on the question that
Bossuet was in the wrong, both in the acrimony of his conduct and the
violence of his language. In the latter respect, indeed, he brought down
upon himself a well-deserved punishment. Fénelon was the mildest of men,
but he possessed a faculty of quiet irony inferior to that of no man then
living, and he used it with effect in the controversy against Bossuet's
declamatory denunciations. When, at last, the matter had been referred to
the Pope, and judgment had been given against himself, Fénelon at once
bowed to the decision and acknowledged his error. Louis, however, had
many more reasons for disliking him than the mere odium theologicum with
which Bossuet had inspired him. Fénelon was known to disapprove of
much in the actual government of France, and the surreptitious publication
of Télémaque completed his disgrace. He was banished from court and
confined to his diocese, in which he accordingly spent the last part of his
life, doing his best to alleviate the misery caused on the borders by the war
of the Spanish succession, and dying at Cambray in 1715.
Page 406
Fénelon was an industrious writer. Few of his finished sermons have been
preserved; but these are excellent, as are also his fables written for the Duke
de Bourgogne, his already-mentioned Education des Filles, and his
Dialogues des Morts, also written for the Duke, in which the form is
borrowed from Lucian, but in which moral lessons are substituted for mere
satire. Like Bossuet, Fénelon was a Cartesian, and his Traité de l'Existence
de Dieu is a philosophico-religious work of no small merit. In literary
history he is remarkable for having directly opposed the victorious work of
Boileau. He has left several exercises in literary criticism, such as his Lettre
sur les Occupations de l'Académie Française, one of the latest of his works;
his Dialogues sur l'Eloquence, and a contribution to the famous dispute of
ancients and moderns in correspondence with La Motte. He regretted the
impoverishment of the language, and the loss of much of the energy and
picturesque vigour of the sixteenth century. In his controversy with Bossuet,
though the matter is not strictly literary, there is, as has been noticed, much
admirable literary work; but his chief claim to a place in literary history is,
of course, Télémaque, which work he had anticipated by the somewhat
similar Aventures d'Aristonous. It has often been regretted that classics in
any language should be used for purposes of instruction in the rudiments,
and hardly any single work has suffered more from this practice than
Télémaque, for learners of French are usually set to read it long before they
have any power of literary appreciation. A continuous narrative, moreover,
is about the least suited of all literary forms to bear that process of cutting
up in short pieces which is necessary in education. The pleasure of the story
is either lost altogether, or anticipated by surreptitious reading on the part of
the pupil, after which the mechanical plodding through matter of which he
has already exhausted the interest is disgusting enough. Yet it can hardly be
doubted that if Télémaque had not, in the case of most readers, this fatal
disadvantage, its beauties would be generally acknowledged. Its form is
somewhat artificial, and the author has, perhaps, not escaped the error of
most moral fiction writers, that of making his hero too much of a model of
what ought to be, and too little of a copy of what is. But the story is
excellently managed, the various incidents are drawn with remarkable
vividness and picturesqueness, the descriptions are uniformly excellent, and
the style is almost impeccable. Even were the moral sentiments and the
general tendency of the book less excellent than they are, its value as a
model of French composition would probably have secured it something
preserved; but these are excellent, as are also his fables written for the Duke
de Bourgogne, his already-mentioned Education des Filles, and his
Dialogues des Morts, also written for the Duke, in which the form is
borrowed from Lucian, but in which moral lessons are substituted for mere
satire. Like Bossuet, Fénelon was a Cartesian, and his Traité de l'Existence
de Dieu is a philosophico-religious work of no small merit. In literary
history he is remarkable for having directly opposed the victorious work of
Boileau. He has left several exercises in literary criticism, such as his Lettre
sur les Occupations de l'Académie Française, one of the latest of his works;
his Dialogues sur l'Eloquence, and a contribution to the famous dispute of
ancients and moderns in correspondence with La Motte. He regretted the
impoverishment of the language, and the loss of much of the energy and
picturesque vigour of the sixteenth century. In his controversy with Bossuet,
though the matter is not strictly literary, there is, as has been noticed, much
admirable literary work; but his chief claim to a place in literary history is,
of course, Télémaque, which work he had anticipated by the somewhat
similar Aventures d'Aristonous. It has often been regretted that classics in
any language should be used for purposes of instruction in the rudiments,
and hardly any single work has suffered more from this practice than
Télémaque, for learners of French are usually set to read it long before they
have any power of literary appreciation. A continuous narrative, moreover,
is about the least suited of all literary forms to bear that process of cutting
up in short pieces which is necessary in education. The pleasure of the story
is either lost altogether, or anticipated by surreptitious reading on the part of
the pupil, after which the mechanical plodding through matter of which he
has already exhausted the interest is disgusting enough. Yet it can hardly be
doubted that if Télémaque had not, in the case of most readers, this fatal
disadvantage, its beauties would be generally acknowledged. Its form is
somewhat artificial, and the author has, perhaps, not escaped the error of
most moral fiction writers, that of making his hero too much of a model of
what ought to be, and too little of a copy of what is. But the story is
excellently managed, the various incidents are drawn with remarkable
vividness and picturesqueness, the descriptions are uniformly excellent, and
the style is almost impeccable. Even were the moral sentiments and the
general tendency of the book less excellent than they are, its value as a
model of French composition would probably have secured it something
Page 407
like its present place side by side with La Fontaine's Fables as a school-
book. It is fair to add that in the character of Calypso, where the need of the
author for a 'terrible example' freed him from his restraints, very
considerable powers of character-drawing are shown, and the same may be
said of not a few of the minor personages.
The third greatest name of the period in this class of men
of letters is beyond all question that of Massillon. He, Massillon.
like Fénelon, belongs to the second, if not the third,
generation of the Siècle de Louis Quatorze, being nearly forty years
younger than Bossuet. He was a long liver, and his death did not occur till
far into the reign of Louis XV., when the reputation of Voltaire was
established, and the eighteenth-century movement was in full swing. But
his literary and oratorical activity had ceased for nearly a quarter of a
century at the time of his death. Jean Baptiste Massillon[281] was a native of
Hières, and was born on June 24, 1663. His father was a notary, and he
himself was destined for the same profession; but his vocation for the
Church was strong, and he was at last permitted to enter the Oratorian
Congregation. His aptitude for preaching was soon discovered, and when
very young he distinguished himself by Oraisons Funèbres on the
archbishops of Lyons and Vienne. He was of a retiring disposition, and,
wishing to avoid publicity, joined a stricter order than that of the Oratory,
but was induced, and indeed ordered, by the Cardinal de Noailles, who
heard him preach in his new abode, not to hide his light under a bushel, but
to come to Paris and do the Church service. He obeyed, and was established
in the capital in 1696. His fame soon became great, and he preached before
the king more than one course of sermons. He was appointed bishop of
Clermont in 1717, and in the same year preached the celebrated Petit
Caréme, or course of Lent sermons, before Louis XV. In 1719 he was
elected of the Academy. He preached his last sermon at Paris in 1723, and
then retired to his diocese, where he spent the last twenty years of his life,
dying of apoplexy at the age of eighty, Sept. 28, 1742.
Massillon has usually, and justly, been considered the greatest preacher, in
the strict sense of the word, of France. Only Bossuet and Bourdaloue could
contest this position; and though both preceded him, and he owed much to
both, he excels both in sermons properly so called. Bossuet was, perhaps, a
greater orator, if the finest parts of his work only are taken; but he was, as
book. It is fair to add that in the character of Calypso, where the need of the
author for a 'terrible example' freed him from his restraints, very
considerable powers of character-drawing are shown, and the same may be
said of not a few of the minor personages.
The third greatest name of the period in this class of men
of letters is beyond all question that of Massillon. He, Massillon.
like Fénelon, belongs to the second, if not the third,
generation of the Siècle de Louis Quatorze, being nearly forty years
younger than Bossuet. He was a long liver, and his death did not occur till
far into the reign of Louis XV., when the reputation of Voltaire was
established, and the eighteenth-century movement was in full swing. But
his literary and oratorical activity had ceased for nearly a quarter of a
century at the time of his death. Jean Baptiste Massillon[281] was a native of
Hières, and was born on June 24, 1663. His father was a notary, and he
himself was destined for the same profession; but his vocation for the
Church was strong, and he was at last permitted to enter the Oratorian
Congregation. His aptitude for preaching was soon discovered, and when
very young he distinguished himself by Oraisons Funèbres on the
archbishops of Lyons and Vienne. He was of a retiring disposition, and,
wishing to avoid publicity, joined a stricter order than that of the Oratory,
but was induced, and indeed ordered, by the Cardinal de Noailles, who
heard him preach in his new abode, not to hide his light under a bushel, but
to come to Paris and do the Church service. He obeyed, and was established
in the capital in 1696. His fame soon became great, and he preached before
the king more than one course of sermons. He was appointed bishop of
Clermont in 1717, and in the same year preached the celebrated Petit
Caréme, or course of Lent sermons, before Louis XV. In 1719 he was
elected of the Academy. He preached his last sermon at Paris in 1723, and
then retired to his diocese, where he spent the last twenty years of his life,
dying of apoplexy at the age of eighty, Sept. 28, 1742.
Massillon has usually, and justly, been considered the greatest preacher, in
the strict sense of the word, of France. Only Bossuet and Bourdaloue could
contest this position; and though both preceded him, and he owed much to
both, he excels both in sermons properly so called. Bossuet was, perhaps, a
greater orator, if the finest parts of his work only are taken; but he was, as
Page 408
has been said, unequal, and in the two great objects of the preacher,
exposition of doctrine and effect upon the consciences of his hearers, he
was admittedly inferior to Massillon. The latter, moreover, has, of all
French preachers (for Fénelon, it must be remembered, has left but few
sermons), the purest style, and possesses the greatest range. His special
function was considered to be persuasion; yet few pulpit orators have
managed the sterner parts of their duty more forcibly. Massillon's sermon
on the Prodigal Son, and that on the Deaths of the Just and the Unjust, are
models of his style. It is, moreover, very much to his credit that he was the
most uncompromising, despite his gentleness, of all the great preachers of
the time, and, therefore, the least popular at court. Louis the Fourteenth's
famous epigram, to the effect that other preachers made him contented with
them, but Massillon made him discontented with himself, was somewhat
comically illustrated by the fact that, after the second course of sermons
preached before him, that of Lent 1704, the preacher, though then in the
very height of his powers, was never asked again to preach at court. We are,
however, more concerned with the manner than with the matter of his
orations. He had (after the example of Bourdaloue, it is true) entirely
discarded the frippery of erudition with which most of his predecessors had
been wont to load their sermons, as well as the occasional oddities of
gesticulation and anecdote which had once been fashionable. His style is
simple, straightforward, and yet extremely elegant. In the commonplaces of
French literary history of the old school he is called the Racine of the pulpit,
a compliment determined by the extreme purity and elegance of his style,
but not otherwise very applicable, inasmuch as one chief characteristic of
Massillon is an energy and masculine vigour of expression in which Racine
is, for the most part, wanting.
If we have postponed Bourdaloue to Massillon, despite
the order of chronology, it has been in accordance with Bourdaloue.
Bourdaloue's own remark when Massillon made his first
reputation, 'He must increase, but I must decrease.' This remark is
characteristic of the disposition of the man, which was as stainless as
Massillon's own. Louis Bourdaloue was born at Bourges on the 20th
August, 1632, and was thus not many years the junior of Bossuet. He
entered the Society of Jesus early, and served it as professor of philosophy
and kindred subjects. But his superiors soon discovered his talents as a
exposition of doctrine and effect upon the consciences of his hearers, he
was admittedly inferior to Massillon. The latter, moreover, has, of all
French preachers (for Fénelon, it must be remembered, has left but few
sermons), the purest style, and possesses the greatest range. His special
function was considered to be persuasion; yet few pulpit orators have
managed the sterner parts of their duty more forcibly. Massillon's sermon
on the Prodigal Son, and that on the Deaths of the Just and the Unjust, are
models of his style. It is, moreover, very much to his credit that he was the
most uncompromising, despite his gentleness, of all the great preachers of
the time, and, therefore, the least popular at court. Louis the Fourteenth's
famous epigram, to the effect that other preachers made him contented with
them, but Massillon made him discontented with himself, was somewhat
comically illustrated by the fact that, after the second course of sermons
preached before him, that of Lent 1704, the preacher, though then in the
very height of his powers, was never asked again to preach at court. We are,
however, more concerned with the manner than with the matter of his
orations. He had (after the example of Bourdaloue, it is true) entirely
discarded the frippery of erudition with which most of his predecessors had
been wont to load their sermons, as well as the occasional oddities of
gesticulation and anecdote which had once been fashionable. His style is
simple, straightforward, and yet extremely elegant. In the commonplaces of
French literary history of the old school he is called the Racine of the pulpit,
a compliment determined by the extreme purity and elegance of his style,
but not otherwise very applicable, inasmuch as one chief characteristic of
Massillon is an energy and masculine vigour of expression in which Racine
is, for the most part, wanting.
If we have postponed Bourdaloue to Massillon, despite
the order of chronology, it has been in accordance with Bourdaloue.
Bourdaloue's own remark when Massillon made his first
reputation, 'He must increase, but I must decrease.' This remark is
characteristic of the disposition of the man, which was as stainless as
Massillon's own. Louis Bourdaloue was born at Bourges on the 20th
August, 1632, and was thus not many years the junior of Bossuet. He
entered the Society of Jesus early, and served it as professor of philosophy
and kindred subjects. But his superiors soon discovered his talents as a
Page 409
preacher, and he was sent to make his way before the court, where he
became a great favourite, especially with Madame de Sévigné, who was no
mean critic. He died in 1704.
The chief characteristic of Bourdaloue's eloquence is a remarkable absence
of ornament, and a strict adherence to dialectical order. None of the great
French preachers admit of logical abstraction and précis so well as he.
Another peculiarity is his preference for ethical subjects. More than any of
his contemporaries he was an expounder of Christian morality, and his
sermons are wont to deal with simple virtues and vices rather than with
points of devotional piety. He was, like Massillon, and even more than
Massillon, absolutely fearless and uncompromising, preaching against
adultery in the very face of Louis XIV. in his early days, and sparing no
vice or folly of the court. But, perhaps owing to the somewhat severe and
exclusively intellectual character of his oratory, it does not appear to have
produced the effects, salutary doubtless for the hearers, but somewhat
inconvenient for the preacher, which attended the more cunningly-aimed
attacks of Massillon.
The example of the three great preachers—Bossuet, Bourdaloue, and
Massillon—raised up many imitators, some of whom, such as De la Rue,
Cheminais, and others, were popular in their day. There are, however, four
orators—two Roman Catholics, and two belonging to the French Protestant
Church—to whom is usually and rightly accorded the second rank, while
sectarian partiality sometimes claims even the first for them. These were
Fléchier, Mascaron, Claude, and Saurin.
Esprit Fléchier was born at Pesmes in 1632. For a time
he was a member of the congregation of the Brothers of Minor Preachers.
Christian Doctrine, which, however, on an alteration of
its constitution by a new superior-general (he had been introduced to it by
his uncle, who held that office), he quitted. He then went to Paris and tried
various methods of gaining a livelihood, such as writing verses in Latin and
French, and teaching in a school. In these early days he indulged in various
forms of miscellaneous literature. The most curious and interesting of these
works is a little account of the Grands Jours d'Auvergne, a sort of
provincial assize which he visited. This has much liveliness, and the
sketches of character and manners show a good deal of skill. But at length
became a great favourite, especially with Madame de Sévigné, who was no
mean critic. He died in 1704.
The chief characteristic of Bourdaloue's eloquence is a remarkable absence
of ornament, and a strict adherence to dialectical order. None of the great
French preachers admit of logical abstraction and précis so well as he.
Another peculiarity is his preference for ethical subjects. More than any of
his contemporaries he was an expounder of Christian morality, and his
sermons are wont to deal with simple virtues and vices rather than with
points of devotional piety. He was, like Massillon, and even more than
Massillon, absolutely fearless and uncompromising, preaching against
adultery in the very face of Louis XIV. in his early days, and sparing no
vice or folly of the court. But, perhaps owing to the somewhat severe and
exclusively intellectual character of his oratory, it does not appear to have
produced the effects, salutary doubtless for the hearers, but somewhat
inconvenient for the preacher, which attended the more cunningly-aimed
attacks of Massillon.
The example of the three great preachers—Bossuet, Bourdaloue, and
Massillon—raised up many imitators, some of whom, such as De la Rue,
Cheminais, and others, were popular in their day. There are, however, four
orators—two Roman Catholics, and two belonging to the French Protestant
Church—to whom is usually and rightly accorded the second rank, while
sectarian partiality sometimes claims even the first for them. These were
Fléchier, Mascaron, Claude, and Saurin.
Esprit Fléchier was born at Pesmes in 1632. For a time
he was a member of the congregation of the Brothers of Minor Preachers.
Christian Doctrine, which, however, on an alteration of
its constitution by a new superior-general (he had been introduced to it by
his uncle, who held that office), he quitted. He then went to Paris and tried
various methods of gaining a livelihood, such as writing verses in Latin and
French, and teaching in a school. In these early days he indulged in various
forms of miscellaneous literature. The most curious and interesting of these
works is a little account of the Grands Jours d'Auvergne, a sort of
provincial assize which he visited. This has much liveliness, and the
sketches of character and manners show a good deal of skill. But at length
Page 410
he found his proper sphere in the pulpit. He acquired reputation by his
Oraison Funèbre on Turenne. He became a member of the Academy (being
admitted on the same day as Racine); and he was appointed, first, to the
bishopric of Lavaur, then to that of Nîmes, where, in a very difficult
position (for the revocation of the edict of Nantes had exasperated the
Protestants, who were numerous in the diocese), he made himself
universally beloved. He died in 1710. The most famous of Fléchier's
discourses are those on Madame de Montausier (the heroine of the
Guirlande de Julie[282] and the idol of the Hôtel de Rambouillet), that on
Madame de Montausier's husband, and that on Turenne. Fléchier represents
a somewhat older style of diction and expression than either of his great
contemporaries, Bossuet and Bourdaloue; and his style, unlike some other
work of this older school, is not characterised by many striking occasional
phrases, but his sermons as a whole are vigorous and well expressed.
Jean Mascaron was born at Marseilles in 1634. It is worth noticing that
almost all these orators came from the south of France. He preached
frequently before the king, and did not hesitate to rebuke his vices,
notwithstanding or because of which he was appointed to the bishopric of
Tulle, whence he was afterwards translated to Agen. He died in 1703.
Mascaron is chiefly remembered for his Oraison on that same death of
Turenne which gave occasion to so many orators. He is usually reproached
with a certain affectation of style, and there is justice in the reproach.
Of the two Protestant divines who have been mentioned Claude was the less
distinguished, though he sustained on pretty even terms a public
controversy with Bossuet himself. Jacques Saurin was of less political
influence with his own sect, but he possessed greater eloquence, and critics
of his own persuasion in France and Switzerland have equalled him to
Bossuet. His works, moreover, long continued to be the most popular body
of household divinity with French Protestants. He was born at Nîmes, 1677,
and was thus considerably younger even than Massillon. The revocation of
the edict of Nantes (which had formed the subject of some of Claude's most
famous discourses) prevented him from making a name for himself in
France. He was at first appointed, in 1701, after studying at Geneva, to a
Walloon congregation in London, but soon moved, in consequence of weak
health, to the Hague. He there became a victim of the petty dissensions
which seem to have been more frequent among Dutch Protestant sects than
Oraison Funèbre on Turenne. He became a member of the Academy (being
admitted on the same day as Racine); and he was appointed, first, to the
bishopric of Lavaur, then to that of Nîmes, where, in a very difficult
position (for the revocation of the edict of Nantes had exasperated the
Protestants, who were numerous in the diocese), he made himself
universally beloved. He died in 1710. The most famous of Fléchier's
discourses are those on Madame de Montausier (the heroine of the
Guirlande de Julie[282] and the idol of the Hôtel de Rambouillet), that on
Madame de Montausier's husband, and that on Turenne. Fléchier represents
a somewhat older style of diction and expression than either of his great
contemporaries, Bossuet and Bourdaloue; and his style, unlike some other
work of this older school, is not characterised by many striking occasional
phrases, but his sermons as a whole are vigorous and well expressed.
Jean Mascaron was born at Marseilles in 1634. It is worth noticing that
almost all these orators came from the south of France. He preached
frequently before the king, and did not hesitate to rebuke his vices,
notwithstanding or because of which he was appointed to the bishopric of
Tulle, whence he was afterwards translated to Agen. He died in 1703.
Mascaron is chiefly remembered for his Oraison on that same death of
Turenne which gave occasion to so many orators. He is usually reproached
with a certain affectation of style, and there is justice in the reproach.
Of the two Protestant divines who have been mentioned Claude was the less
distinguished, though he sustained on pretty even terms a public
controversy with Bossuet himself. Jacques Saurin was of less political
influence with his own sect, but he possessed greater eloquence, and critics
of his own persuasion in France and Switzerland have equalled him to
Bossuet. His works, moreover, long continued to be the most popular body
of household divinity with French Protestants. He was born at Nîmes, 1677,
and was thus considerably younger even than Massillon. The revocation of
the edict of Nantes (which had formed the subject of some of Claude's most
famous discourses) prevented him from making a name for himself in
France. He was at first appointed, in 1701, after studying at Geneva, to a
Walloon congregation in London, but soon moved, in consequence of weak
health, to the Hague. He there became a victim of the petty dissensions
which seem to have been more frequent among Dutch Protestant sects than
Page 411
anywhere else, and to the vexation of these is said to have been partly due
his comparatively early death in 1730. He left a very considerable number
of sermons and some theological treatises. He was admittedly a great orator,
excelling in striking pictures and forcible imagery.
It will have been observed that, though this age contributes more to
theology of the literary kind than almost any other, its most memorable
contributions are almost exclusively oratorical. Incidentally, however, much
that was intended to be read, not heard, was of course written. But less of it
has been thought worthy the attention of posterity. The chief theological
names in this department have already been named in naming those of the
other. Of the school of Port Royal, who preached little but wrote much, J. J.
Duguet, a man of great talent and saintly life, deserves mention.
FOOTNOTES:
[279] Bossuet's works are extremely voluminous. The most important of them
are easily obtainable in the Collection Didot and similar libraries.
[280] There is a fairly representative edition of Fénelon in five vols. large 8vo.
Didot. Separate works are easily accessible.
[281] Edition as in Fénelon's case. Selections of all the orthodox sermon-writers
are abundant.
[282] This was an album to which the poets of the day, from Corneille
downwards, contributed verses, each on a different flower.
his comparatively early death in 1730. He left a very considerable number
of sermons and some theological treatises. He was admittedly a great orator,
excelling in striking pictures and forcible imagery.
It will have been observed that, though this age contributes more to
theology of the literary kind than almost any other, its most memorable
contributions are almost exclusively oratorical. Incidentally, however, much
that was intended to be read, not heard, was of course written. But less of it
has been thought worthy the attention of posterity. The chief theological
names in this department have already been named in naming those of the
other. Of the school of Port Royal, who preached little but wrote much, J. J.
Duguet, a man of great talent and saintly life, deserves mention.
FOOTNOTES:
[279] Bossuet's works are extremely voluminous. The most important of them
are easily obtainable in the Collection Didot and similar libraries.
[280] There is a fairly representative edition of Fénelon in five vols. large 8vo.
Didot. Separate works are easily accessible.
[281] Edition as in Fénelon's case. Selections of all the orthodox sermon-writers
are abundant.
[282] This was an album to which the poets of the day, from Corneille
downwards, contributed verses, each on a different flower.
Page 412
INTERCHAPTER III.
SUMMARY OF SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY LITERATURE.
The tendencies of the period which has been surveyed in the foregoing
book must be sufficiently obvious from the survey itself. They had been, as
far as the unsatisfactory result of them went, indicated with remarkably
prophetic precision by Regnier in lines quoted above[283]. The work, not
merely of Malherbe, which the satirist had directly in view, but of Boileau,
who succeeded Malherbe and completed his task, had tended far too much
in the direction of substituting a formal regularity for an elastic freedom and
of discouraging the more poetical utterances of thought. In prose, however,
the operation of not dissimilar tendencies had been almost wholly good. For
it is in the nature of prose not to admit of too absolute regulation, and it is at
the same time in its nature to require that regulation up to a certain point. If
the French vocabulary had been somewhat impoverished, it had been
considerably refined. All good authorities admit that the influence of the
salon-coteries and the précieuses—mischievous as it was in some ways—
was of no small benefit in purifying not merely manners but speech. A
single book, the Historiettes of Tallemant des Réaux, shows sufficiently the
need of this double purification. French literature has at no time been
distinguished by prudery, but from the fifteenth to the middle of the
seventeenth century (for, as has been pointed out, the courtly literature at
least of the middle ages is free from this defect) it had added to its liberty in
choice and treatment of subjects a liberty which amounted to the extremest
licence in the choice of words. It had become in fact exceedingly coarse.
The poetry of the Pléiade was not as a rule open to this charge, but the early
poetry and prose of the seventeenth century must submit to it. One effect of
the process of correction and reform was a decided improvement in this
matter.
But the vocabulary was by no means the only thing that underwent revision.
Other constituents of literature shared in the same experience, and much
more beneficially, for the expurgation of the dictionary was unfortunately
SUMMARY OF SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY LITERATURE.
The tendencies of the period which has been surveyed in the foregoing
book must be sufficiently obvious from the survey itself. They had been, as
far as the unsatisfactory result of them went, indicated with remarkably
prophetic precision by Regnier in lines quoted above[283]. The work, not
merely of Malherbe, which the satirist had directly in view, but of Boileau,
who succeeded Malherbe and completed his task, had tended far too much
in the direction of substituting a formal regularity for an elastic freedom and
of discouraging the more poetical utterances of thought. In prose, however,
the operation of not dissimilar tendencies had been almost wholly good. For
it is in the nature of prose not to admit of too absolute regulation, and it is at
the same time in its nature to require that regulation up to a certain point. If
the French vocabulary had been somewhat impoverished, it had been
considerably refined. All good authorities admit that the influence of the
salon-coteries and the précieuses—mischievous as it was in some ways—
was of no small benefit in purifying not merely manners but speech. A
single book, the Historiettes of Tallemant des Réaux, shows sufficiently the
need of this double purification. French literature has at no time been
distinguished by prudery, but from the fifteenth to the middle of the
seventeenth century (for, as has been pointed out, the courtly literature at
least of the middle ages is free from this defect) it had added to its liberty in
choice and treatment of subjects a liberty which amounted to the extremest
licence in the choice of words. It had become in fact exceedingly coarse.
The poetry of the Pléiade was not as a rule open to this charge, but the early
poetry and prose of the seventeenth century must submit to it. One effect of
the process of correction and reform was a decided improvement in this
matter.
But the vocabulary was by no means the only thing that underwent revision.
Other constituents of literature shared in the same experience, and much
more beneficially, for the expurgation of the dictionary was unfortunately
Page 413
made to involve the weeding out of many terms which were not open to the
slightest exception, and the loss of which deprived the tongue of much of its
picturesqueness. No such concomitant defect attended the reformations in
grammar which, begun by the grammarians of the sixteenth century, were
pursued still more systematically by Vaugelas and his followers. There can
hardly be too much precision observed in matters of accidence and syntax;
while it is desirable that the vocabulary should be as rich as possible,
provided that its terms are vernacular or properly naturalised. The same
may be said of some at least of the reforms of Malherbe in prosody and the
minutiæ of poetical art. So too the advance made to something like a
uniform orthography was of no small importance. The result of this general
criticism was the group (or rather groups, for they may be divided into at
least two, the earlier comprising Descartes, Corneille, Pascal, Saint
Evremond, La Rochefoucauld, Bossuet, Madame de Sévigné, La Fontaine,
and Molière, in other words, most of the greatest names) illustrating the so-
called Grand Siècle, or Siècle de Louis Quatorze. The two names that stand
first in this list, Descartes and Corneille, represent at once the initial change
and in addition the greatest accomplishment in the direction of change
effected by any individual. The others worthily followed where they led.
This group, as has been more than once pointed out, does not shine in
poetry proper. But it has hardly a rival in prose and in that measured and
declamatory or easy and pedestrian verse which is half prose, half poetry.
Long, however, before the century ended, the evils which invariably attend
upon a critical period, especially—it is paradoxical but true—when it is at
the same time a period of considerable creative power, began to manifest
themselves. These evils may be briefly described as the natural results of
the drawing up of too straight and definite rules for each department of
literature, and the following with too great exactness of the more brilliant
examples in each kind. The one practice leads to what is called, in Sterne's
well-known phrase, 'looking at the stop-watch;' the other, to an endeavour
to be like somebody. It was not till the eighteenth century that these evils
were fully patent; and then, though they were somewhat mitigated in
departments other than the Belles Lettres by the eager spirit of enquiry and
adventure which characterised the time, they are evident enough. The
mischief showed itself in various ways. Besides the two which have been
already indicated, there was a third and subtler form, which has produced
slightest exception, and the loss of which deprived the tongue of much of its
picturesqueness. No such concomitant defect attended the reformations in
grammar which, begun by the grammarians of the sixteenth century, were
pursued still more systematically by Vaugelas and his followers. There can
hardly be too much precision observed in matters of accidence and syntax;
while it is desirable that the vocabulary should be as rich as possible,
provided that its terms are vernacular or properly naturalised. The same
may be said of some at least of the reforms of Malherbe in prosody and the
minutiæ of poetical art. So too the advance made to something like a
uniform orthography was of no small importance. The result of this general
criticism was the group (or rather groups, for they may be divided into at
least two, the earlier comprising Descartes, Corneille, Pascal, Saint
Evremond, La Rochefoucauld, Bossuet, Madame de Sévigné, La Fontaine,
and Molière, in other words, most of the greatest names) illustrating the so-
called Grand Siècle, or Siècle de Louis Quatorze. The two names that stand
first in this list, Descartes and Corneille, represent at once the initial change
and in addition the greatest accomplishment in the direction of change
effected by any individual. The others worthily followed where they led.
This group, as has been more than once pointed out, does not shine in
poetry proper. But it has hardly a rival in prose and in that measured and
declamatory or easy and pedestrian verse which is half prose, half poetry.
Long, however, before the century ended, the evils which invariably attend
upon a critical period, especially—it is paradoxical but true—when it is at
the same time a period of considerable creative power, began to manifest
themselves. These evils may be briefly described as the natural results of
the drawing up of too straight and definite rules for each department of
literature, and the following with too great exactness of the more brilliant
examples in each kind. The one practice leads to what is called, in Sterne's
well-known phrase, 'looking at the stop-watch;' the other, to an endeavour
to be like somebody. It was not till the eighteenth century that these evils
were fully patent; and then, though they were somewhat mitigated in
departments other than the Belles Lettres by the eager spirit of enquiry and
adventure which characterised the time, they are evident enough. The
mischief showed itself in various ways. Besides the two which have been
already indicated, there was a third and subtler form, which has produced
Page 414
some curious and interesting work, but which is obviously an indication of
decadence. Those who did not resign themselves to the mere recasting of
old material in the old moulds, or to simple following of the great models,
were apt to echo, aloud or silently, La Bruyère's opening sentence, 'tout est
dit,' and to draw from this discouraging fact the same conclusion that he did
—that the only way to innovate was to vary in cunning fashion the manners
of saying. In itself there might be no great harm in the conclusion,
especially if it had led to a revolt against the narrow limits imposed by
current criticism. But it did not, it only led to an attempt to innovate within
those limits, which could only be done by a kind of new 'preciousness'—an
affectation in short. This affectation showed itself first (though La Bruyère
himself is not quite free from it, enemy of Fontenelle as he was) in
Fontenelle, who was a descendant of the old précieuse school itself, and
reached a climax in the author from whose name it thenceforward took its
name of Marivaudage.
Thus the literary produce of the seventeenth century was better than its
tendency. The latter has been sufficiently described; a very few words will
suffice for the former. In the special characteristics of the genius of French,
which may be said to be clearness, polish of form and expression, and a
certain quality which perhaps cannot be so well expressed by any other
word as by alertness, the best work of the seventeenth century has no rivals.
Except in Corneille and Bossuet, it is not often grand, it is still seldomer
passionate, or suggestively harmonious, or quaintly humorous, or even
picturesquely narrative. But the charm of precision, of elegance, of
expressing what is expressed in the best possible manner, belongs to it in a
supreme degree. There are not many things in literature more absolutely
incapable of improvement in their own style, and as far as they go, than a
scene of Molière, a tirade of Racine, a maxim of La Rochefoucauld, a letter
of Madame de Sévigné, a character of La Bruyère, a peroration of
Massillon, when each is at his or her best. The reader may in some cases
feel that he likes something else better, but he is incapable of pointing out a
blemish. If he objects, he must object to something extra-literary, to the
writer's conception of human nature, his political views, his range of
thought, his selection of subject. When the one supreme question of
criticism formulated by Victor Hugo, 'l'ouvrage est-il bon ou est-il
mauvais?' (not 'aimez-vous l'ouvrage?' which is the illegitimate question
decadence. Those who did not resign themselves to the mere recasting of
old material in the old moulds, or to simple following of the great models,
were apt to echo, aloud or silently, La Bruyère's opening sentence, 'tout est
dit,' and to draw from this discouraging fact the same conclusion that he did
—that the only way to innovate was to vary in cunning fashion the manners
of saying. In itself there might be no great harm in the conclusion,
especially if it had led to a revolt against the narrow limits imposed by
current criticism. But it did not, it only led to an attempt to innovate within
those limits, which could only be done by a kind of new 'preciousness'—an
affectation in short. This affectation showed itself first (though La Bruyère
himself is not quite free from it, enemy of Fontenelle as he was) in
Fontenelle, who was a descendant of the old précieuse school itself, and
reached a climax in the author from whose name it thenceforward took its
name of Marivaudage.
Thus the literary produce of the seventeenth century was better than its
tendency. The latter has been sufficiently described; a very few words will
suffice for the former. In the special characteristics of the genius of French,
which may be said to be clearness, polish of form and expression, and a
certain quality which perhaps cannot be so well expressed by any other
word as by alertness, the best work of the seventeenth century has no rivals.
Except in Corneille and Bossuet, it is not often grand, it is still seldomer
passionate, or suggestively harmonious, or quaintly humorous, or even
picturesquely narrative. But the charm of precision, of elegance, of
expressing what is expressed in the best possible manner, belongs to it in a
supreme degree. There are not many things in literature more absolutely
incapable of improvement in their own style, and as far as they go, than a
scene of Molière, a tirade of Racine, a maxim of La Rochefoucauld, a letter
of Madame de Sévigné, a character of La Bruyère, a peroration of
Massillon, when each is at his or her best. The reader may in some cases
feel that he likes something else better, but he is incapable of pointing out a
blemish. If he objects, he must object to something extra-literary, to the
writer's conception of human nature, his political views, his range of
thought, his selection of subject. When the one supreme question of
criticism formulated by Victor Hugo, 'l'ouvrage est-il bon ou est-il
mauvais?' (not 'aimez-vous l'ouvrage?' which is the illegitimate question
Page 415
which nine critics out of ten put to themselves), is set in reference to the
best work of this time, the answer cannot be dubious for one moment in the
case of any one qualified to give an answer at all. It is good, and in very
many cases it could not possibly be better.
FOOTNOTES:
[283] p. 267.
best work of this time, the answer cannot be dubious for one moment in the
case of any one qualified to give an answer at all. It is good, and in very
many cases it could not possibly be better.
FOOTNOTES:
[283] p. 267.
Page 416
BOOK IV.
THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY.
THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY.
Page 417
CHAPTER I.
POETS.
The literature of the eighteenth century, despite the
many great names which adorn it, and the extraordinary Literary
Degeneracy of the
practical influence which it exercised, is, from the point Eighteenth Century.
of view of strict literary criticism, which busies itself
with form rather than matter, a period of decadence. In all the departments
of Belles Lettres a servile imitation of the models of the great classical
period is observable. The language, according to an inevitable process
which the more clearsighted of the men of Louis the Fourteenth's time, such
as Fénelon and La Bruyère, themselves foresaw and deprecated, became
more and more incapable of expressing deep passion, varied scenery, the
intricacies and eccentricities of character. For a time a few survivors of the
older class and manner, such as Fontenelle, Saint Simon, Massillon, resisted
the tendency of the age more or less successfully. As they one by one
dropped off, the militant energy of the great philosophe movement, which
may be said to coincide with the second and third quarters of the century,
communicated a temporary brilliance to prose. But during the reign of
Louis XVI., the Revolution and the Empire (for in the widest sense the
eighteenth century of literature does not cease till the Restoration, or even
later), the average literary value of what is written in French is but small,
and, with few exceptions, what is valuable belongs to those who,
consciously or unconsciously, were in an attitude of revolt, and were
clearing the way for the men of 1830.
Poetry and the drama naturally suffered most from this
course of events, and poetry pure and simple suffered especially manifest
in Poetry.
even more than the drama. By the opening of the
eighteenth century epic and lyric in the proper sense had been rendered
nearly impossible by the full and apparently final adoption of the
conception of poetry recommended by Malherbe, and finally rendered
orthodox by Boileau. The impossibility was not recognised, and France, in
the opinion of her own critics, at last got her epic poem in the Henriade,
POETS.
The literature of the eighteenth century, despite the
many great names which adorn it, and the extraordinary Literary
Degeneracy of the
practical influence which it exercised, is, from the point Eighteenth Century.
of view of strict literary criticism, which busies itself
with form rather than matter, a period of decadence. In all the departments
of Belles Lettres a servile imitation of the models of the great classical
period is observable. The language, according to an inevitable process
which the more clearsighted of the men of Louis the Fourteenth's time, such
as Fénelon and La Bruyère, themselves foresaw and deprecated, became
more and more incapable of expressing deep passion, varied scenery, the
intricacies and eccentricities of character. For a time a few survivors of the
older class and manner, such as Fontenelle, Saint Simon, Massillon, resisted
the tendency of the age more or less successfully. As they one by one
dropped off, the militant energy of the great philosophe movement, which
may be said to coincide with the second and third quarters of the century,
communicated a temporary brilliance to prose. But during the reign of
Louis XVI., the Revolution and the Empire (for in the widest sense the
eighteenth century of literature does not cease till the Restoration, or even
later), the average literary value of what is written in French is but small,
and, with few exceptions, what is valuable belongs to those who,
consciously or unconsciously, were in an attitude of revolt, and were
clearing the way for the men of 1830.
Poetry and the drama naturally suffered most from this
course of events, and poetry pure and simple suffered especially manifest
in Poetry.
even more than the drama. By the opening of the
eighteenth century epic and lyric in the proper sense had been rendered
nearly impossible by the full and apparently final adoption of the
conception of poetry recommended by Malherbe, and finally rendered
orthodox by Boileau. The impossibility was not recognised, and France, in
the opinion of her own critics, at last got her epic poem in the Henriade,
Page 418
and her perfect lyrists in Rousseau and Lebrun. But posterity has not
ratified these judgments. Fortunately, however, the men of the eighteenth
century had in La Fontaine a model for lighter work which their principles
permitted them to follow, and the irresistible attractions of the song left
song-writers tolerably free from the fatal restrictions of dignified poetry.
Once, towards the close of the century, a poet of exceptional genius, André
Chénier, showed what he might have done under happier circumstances.
But for the most part the history of poetry during this time in France is the
history of verse almost uninspired by the poetic spirit, and destitute even of
the choicer graces of poetic form.
For convenience' sake it will be well to separate the
graver and the lighter poets, and to treat each in order, J. B. Rousseau.
with the proviso that in most cases those mentioned in
the first division have some claim to figure in the second also, for few poets
of the time were wholly serious. The first poet who is distinctively of the
eighteenth century, and not the least remarkable, was Jean Baptiste
Rousseau[284] (1669-1741). Rousseau's life was a singular and rather an
unfortunate one. In the first place he was exiled for a piece of scandalous
literature, of which in all probability he was quite guiltless; and, in the
second, meeting in his exile with Voltaire, who professed (and seems really
to have felt) admiration for him, he offended the irritable disciple and was
long the butt of his attacks. Here, however, Rousseau concerns us as a direct
pupil of Boileau, who, with great faculties for the formal part of poetry, and
not without some tincture of its spirit, set himself to be a lyric poet after
Boileau's fashion. He tried play-writing also, but his dramas are quite
unimportant. Rousseau's principal works are certain odes, most of which are
either panegyrical after the fashion of the celebrated Namur specimen
(though he is seldom so absurd as his master), or else sacred and drawn
from the Bible. The Cantates are of the same kind as the latter. These
elaborate and formal works, which owed much of their popularity to the
vogue given to piety at court in the later years of Louis XVI., are curiously
contrasted with the third principal division of his poems, consisting of
epigrams which allow themselves the full epigrammatic licence in subject
and treatment. The contrast is, however, probably due to a very simple
cause, the state of demand at the time, and perhaps also to the study of
Marot, the only pre-seventeenth century poet of France who was allowed to
ratified these judgments. Fortunately, however, the men of the eighteenth
century had in La Fontaine a model for lighter work which their principles
permitted them to follow, and the irresistible attractions of the song left
song-writers tolerably free from the fatal restrictions of dignified poetry.
Once, towards the close of the century, a poet of exceptional genius, André
Chénier, showed what he might have done under happier circumstances.
But for the most part the history of poetry during this time in France is the
history of verse almost uninspired by the poetic spirit, and destitute even of
the choicer graces of poetic form.
For convenience' sake it will be well to separate the
graver and the lighter poets, and to treat each in order, J. B. Rousseau.
with the proviso that in most cases those mentioned in
the first division have some claim to figure in the second also, for few poets
of the time were wholly serious. The first poet who is distinctively of the
eighteenth century, and not the least remarkable, was Jean Baptiste
Rousseau[284] (1669-1741). Rousseau's life was a singular and rather an
unfortunate one. In the first place he was exiled for a piece of scandalous
literature, of which in all probability he was quite guiltless; and, in the
second, meeting in his exile with Voltaire, who professed (and seems really
to have felt) admiration for him, he offended the irritable disciple and was
long the butt of his attacks. Here, however, Rousseau concerns us as a direct
pupil of Boileau, who, with great faculties for the formal part of poetry, and
not without some tincture of its spirit, set himself to be a lyric poet after
Boileau's fashion. He tried play-writing also, but his dramas are quite
unimportant. Rousseau's principal works are certain odes, most of which are
either panegyrical after the fashion of the celebrated Namur specimen
(though he is seldom so absurd as his master), or else sacred and drawn
from the Bible. The Cantates are of the same kind as the latter. These
elaborate and formal works, which owed much of their popularity to the
vogue given to piety at court in the later years of Louis XVI., are curiously
contrasted with the third principal division of his poems, consisting of
epigrams which allow themselves the full epigrammatic licence in subject
and treatment. The contrast is, however, probably due to a very simple
cause, the state of demand at the time, and perhaps also to the study of
Marot, the only pre-seventeenth century poet of France who was allowed to
Page 419
pass muster in the school of Boileau. Rousseau's merits have been already
indicated, and his defects may be easily divined, even from this brief notice.
He is almost always adroit, often eloquent, sometimes remarkably clever;
but he is seldom other than artificial, never passionate, and only once or
twice sublime. Nor is it superfluous to mention that he is more responsible
than any other person for the intolerable frippery of classical mythology
which loads eighteenth-century verse.
La Motte-Houdart (1672-1731), a successful dramatist, an excellent prose-
writer, and an ingenious but paradoxical critic, was at the time considered
Rousseau's rival in point of ode-making. His work displays the same defects
in a greater and the same merits in a lesser degree, but his fables in the style
of La Fontaine are not unhappy. Lagrange-Chancel, a partisan of the
Duchess du Maine, is chiefly famous for his ferocious satires on the Duke
of Orleans. Louis Racine (1692—1763), undeterred by his father's
reputation and the dissuasion of the redoubtable Boileau, attempted poetry
of a serious kind. He was brought up by the Jansenists, and his two chief
works are poems on 'Grace' and 'Religion.' The latter is better than the
former; but both exhibit a considerable faculty in the style of verse which
his father had made fashionable. The 'Sacred Odes' of Louis Racine are, like
most French poetry of the kind, stiff with a double mannerism, literary and
devotional.
It would not be easy to give a clearer idea of the strange
conception of poetry which prevailed in France at this Voltaire.
time than is given in the simple statement that Voltaire
was acknowledged to be its greatest poet. It is probable that few
Englishmen think of Voltaire as a poet at all; and he has indeed no claim to
the title except such as may be derived from his remarkable skill in the
mechanism of the art of poetry, and from the extraordinary felicity of his
light occasional pieces. It is, however, as a poet that he was chiefly regarded
by his contemporaries; and though he will figure in almost every one of the
chapters of this book, such brief notice of his life as can alone be attempted
in this volume may best be given here. He was born in Paris in 1694, being
the younger son of a wealthy notary. The Jesuits had charge of his
education, and he very early displayed inclinations towards verse which
were not agreeable to his father. His youth seemed destined to scrapes. He
became identified with the party hostile to the Regent, and was twice
indicated, and his defects may be easily divined, even from this brief notice.
He is almost always adroit, often eloquent, sometimes remarkably clever;
but he is seldom other than artificial, never passionate, and only once or
twice sublime. Nor is it superfluous to mention that he is more responsible
than any other person for the intolerable frippery of classical mythology
which loads eighteenth-century verse.
La Motte-Houdart (1672-1731), a successful dramatist, an excellent prose-
writer, and an ingenious but paradoxical critic, was at the time considered
Rousseau's rival in point of ode-making. His work displays the same defects
in a greater and the same merits in a lesser degree, but his fables in the style
of La Fontaine are not unhappy. Lagrange-Chancel, a partisan of the
Duchess du Maine, is chiefly famous for his ferocious satires on the Duke
of Orleans. Louis Racine (1692—1763), undeterred by his father's
reputation and the dissuasion of the redoubtable Boileau, attempted poetry
of a serious kind. He was brought up by the Jansenists, and his two chief
works are poems on 'Grace' and 'Religion.' The latter is better than the
former; but both exhibit a considerable faculty in the style of verse which
his father had made fashionable. The 'Sacred Odes' of Louis Racine are, like
most French poetry of the kind, stiff with a double mannerism, literary and
devotional.
It would not be easy to give a clearer idea of the strange
conception of poetry which prevailed in France at this Voltaire.
time than is given in the simple statement that Voltaire
was acknowledged to be its greatest poet. It is probable that few
Englishmen think of Voltaire as a poet at all; and he has indeed no claim to
the title except such as may be derived from his remarkable skill in the
mechanism of the art of poetry, and from the extraordinary felicity of his
light occasional pieces. It is, however, as a poet that he was chiefly regarded
by his contemporaries; and though he will figure in almost every one of the
chapters of this book, such brief notice of his life as can alone be attempted
in this volume may best be given here. He was born in Paris in 1694, being
the younger son of a wealthy notary. The Jesuits had charge of his
education, and he very early displayed inclinations towards verse which
were not agreeable to his father. His youth seemed destined to scrapes. He
became identified with the party hostile to the Regent, and was twice
Page 420
imprisoned in the Bastile (the second time in consequence of no fault of his
own), while he was at least twice bastinadoed by personal enemies. Being
sent in the suite of an ambassador to Holland, he became entangled in a
foolish love affair, and had to be hastily recalled. But by degrees his literary
talent developed itself. His first visit to the Bastile is identified, more or less
correctly, with the composition of Œdipe, his second with that of the
Henriade. After his second release he had to go to England, and there the
poem was published. He was soon enabled to return to France, and from
that time forward was careful to keep himself out of difficulties by residing
first with his friend, Madame du Châtelet, at the remote frontier château of
Circy, then with Frederick II. at Berlin, then on the neutral territory of
Switzerland, or close to its border, at Les Délices and Ferney. During the
whole of his long life his literary production was incessant, and the form
most congenial to him was poetry, or at least verse. Besides the Henriade,
his only poem of great bulk is the scandalous burlesque epic of the Pucelle,
nominally imitated from Ariosto, but destitute of the poetical feeling
prominent in the Orlando. Voltaire's talent, however, was so much greater
in the lighter kinds of poetry than in the severer, that the Pucelle is not only
more amusing, but actually better as poetry, than the Henriade, the latter
being stiff in plan and servilely modelled on the classical epics, declamatory
in tone, tedious in action, and commonplace in character. Besides these two
long poems Voltaire produced an immense quantity of miscellaneous work,
tales in verse, epistles in verse, discourses in verse, satires, epigrams, vers
de société of every possible kind. These are almost invariably distinguished
by the felicity of expression—spoilt only by too close adherence to the
mannerism of the time—the brilliant wit, the keen observation which are
identified with the name of Voltaire. The number and the small individual
size of these works make it impossible to particularise them here. But Le
Pauvre Diable may be specified as an almost unique example of easy
Horatian satire less conventional than most of its kind; and the verses to the
Princess Ulrique of Prussia as a model of artificial but exquisitely polished
gallantry in verse.
Le Franc de Pompignan had the misfortune to incur the
enmity of Voltaire, and has consequently borne in France Descriptive Poets.
the traditional ignominy which in England hangs on Delille.
certain victims of Dryden and Pope. He had, however, some poetical talent,
own), while he was at least twice bastinadoed by personal enemies. Being
sent in the suite of an ambassador to Holland, he became entangled in a
foolish love affair, and had to be hastily recalled. But by degrees his literary
talent developed itself. His first visit to the Bastile is identified, more or less
correctly, with the composition of Œdipe, his second with that of the
Henriade. After his second release he had to go to England, and there the
poem was published. He was soon enabled to return to France, and from
that time forward was careful to keep himself out of difficulties by residing
first with his friend, Madame du Châtelet, at the remote frontier château of
Circy, then with Frederick II. at Berlin, then on the neutral territory of
Switzerland, or close to its border, at Les Délices and Ferney. During the
whole of his long life his literary production was incessant, and the form
most congenial to him was poetry, or at least verse. Besides the Henriade,
his only poem of great bulk is the scandalous burlesque epic of the Pucelle,
nominally imitated from Ariosto, but destitute of the poetical feeling
prominent in the Orlando. Voltaire's talent, however, was so much greater
in the lighter kinds of poetry than in the severer, that the Pucelle is not only
more amusing, but actually better as poetry, than the Henriade, the latter
being stiff in plan and servilely modelled on the classical epics, declamatory
in tone, tedious in action, and commonplace in character. Besides these two
long poems Voltaire produced an immense quantity of miscellaneous work,
tales in verse, epistles in verse, discourses in verse, satires, epigrams, vers
de société of every possible kind. These are almost invariably distinguished
by the felicity of expression—spoilt only by too close adherence to the
mannerism of the time—the brilliant wit, the keen observation which are
identified with the name of Voltaire. The number and the small individual
size of these works make it impossible to particularise them here. But Le
Pauvre Diable may be specified as an almost unique example of easy
Horatian satire less conventional than most of its kind; and the verses to the
Princess Ulrique of Prussia as a model of artificial but exquisitely polished
gallantry in verse.
Le Franc de Pompignan had the misfortune to incur the
enmity of Voltaire, and has consequently borne in France Descriptive Poets.
the traditional ignominy which in England hangs on Delille.
certain victims of Dryden and Pope. He had, however, some poetical talent,
Page 421
which was shown principally in his ode on the death of J. B. Rousseau. The
charming poem of Ver-Vert (the burlesque history of a parrot, the pet of a
convent) made, and not unjustly, the reputation of Gresset. This reputation
his other poetical works—though he wrote a comedy of much merit—failed
to sustain. Saint Lambert, the rival of Voltaire in love if not in literature,
imitated Thomson's Seasons very closely in a poem of the same name,
which set the fashion of descriptive poetry in France for a considerable
time. The three most remarkable of his followers, all considerably superior
to himself in power, were Lemierre, Delille, and Roucher. Some
paradoxical critics have endeavoured to make Lemierre into a great poet;
but his poems (La Peinture, Les Fastes, etc.), written on ill-selected
subjects and in a style full of conventional mannerism, have at best the
occasional striking lines which are to be found in Armstrong and other
followers of Young or Thomson in England. Jacques Delille and his
extraordinary popularity form, perhaps, the greatest satire on the taste of the
eighteenth century in France. His translation of the Georgics was supposed
to make him the equal of Virgil, and brought him not merely fame, but solid
reward. His principal work was the poem of Les Jardins, which he followed
up with others of a not dissimilar kind. Though he emigrated he did not lose
his fame, and to the day of his death was considered to be the first poet of
France, or to share that honour with Lebrun-Pindare. Delille has expiated
his popularity by a full half-century of contempt, and his work is, indeed,
valueless as poetry. But it is interesting as one of the most striking examples
of talent, adjusting itself exactly to the demands made on it. The age of
Delille wished to see everything described in elegant periphrases, and the
periphrases arranged in harmonious verses. Delille did this and nothing
more. Chess is 'le jeu réveur qu'inventa Palamède.' Backgammon is 'le jeu
bruyant où, le cornet en main, L'adroit joueur calcule un hasard incertain.'
Sugar is 'le miel Américain Que du suc des roseaux exprima l'Africain.' In
short, poetry becomes an elaborate conundrum; nothing is called by its
proper name when a circumlocution is in any way possible. Given the
demand, Delille may justly claim the honour of supplying it with
unequalled adroitness. Roucher, the author of Les Mois, who fell a victim to
the guillotine, was a member of this school, possessing not a little vigour,
though he was not free from the defects of his predecessors. To these may,
perhaps, be joined the pastoral and idyllic poet Léonard.
charming poem of Ver-Vert (the burlesque history of a parrot, the pet of a
convent) made, and not unjustly, the reputation of Gresset. This reputation
his other poetical works—though he wrote a comedy of much merit—failed
to sustain. Saint Lambert, the rival of Voltaire in love if not in literature,
imitated Thomson's Seasons very closely in a poem of the same name,
which set the fashion of descriptive poetry in France for a considerable
time. The three most remarkable of his followers, all considerably superior
to himself in power, were Lemierre, Delille, and Roucher. Some
paradoxical critics have endeavoured to make Lemierre into a great poet;
but his poems (La Peinture, Les Fastes, etc.), written on ill-selected
subjects and in a style full of conventional mannerism, have at best the
occasional striking lines which are to be found in Armstrong and other
followers of Young or Thomson in England. Jacques Delille and his
extraordinary popularity form, perhaps, the greatest satire on the taste of the
eighteenth century in France. His translation of the Georgics was supposed
to make him the equal of Virgil, and brought him not merely fame, but solid
reward. His principal work was the poem of Les Jardins, which he followed
up with others of a not dissimilar kind. Though he emigrated he did not lose
his fame, and to the day of his death was considered to be the first poet of
France, or to share that honour with Lebrun-Pindare. Delille has expiated
his popularity by a full half-century of contempt, and his work is, indeed,
valueless as poetry. But it is interesting as one of the most striking examples
of talent, adjusting itself exactly to the demands made on it. The age of
Delille wished to see everything described in elegant periphrases, and the
periphrases arranged in harmonious verses. Delille did this and nothing
more. Chess is 'le jeu réveur qu'inventa Palamède.' Backgammon is 'le jeu
bruyant où, le cornet en main, L'adroit joueur calcule un hasard incertain.'
Sugar is 'le miel Américain Que du suc des roseaux exprima l'Africain.' In
short, poetry becomes an elaborate conundrum; nothing is called by its
proper name when a circumlocution is in any way possible. Given the
demand, Delille may justly claim the honour of supplying it with
unequalled adroitness. Roucher, the author of Les Mois, who fell a victim to
the guillotine, was a member of this school, possessing not a little vigour,
though he was not free from the defects of his predecessors. To these may,
perhaps, be joined the pastoral and idyllic poet Léonard.
Page 422
It has been said that the glory of Delille as the greatest
poet of the last quarter of the century was shared by a Lebrun.
writer whom his contemporaries surnamed (absurdly
enough) Pindar. Escouchard Lebrun had a strange resemblance to J. B.
Rousseau, of whom, however, he was by no means a warm admirer. Like
his forerunner, he divided his time between bombastic lyrics and epigrams
of very considerable merit. Lebrun was not destitute of a certain force, but
his time was too much for him. He was a very long-lived man, and in his
old age celebrated by turns the Republic and Bonaparte. His chief rivals as
poets of the Republic were M. J. Chénier and the hunchback Desorgues, a
voluminous and vigorous but crude and unfinished writer, who died in a
madhouse at the age of forty-five.
Two young poets, who lived about the middle of the century, are usually
mentioned together, from the fact of the younger of them having used the
misfortunes of the elder to point his own complaints. Malfilâtre, a Norman
by birth, had the ill-luck to write a piece of verse which gained a provincial
success. He at once set out for Paris to make his fortune. He obtained the
post of secretary to the Count de Lauraguais, wrote verses not without grace
and full of a certain tender melancholy, and died at the age of thirty, his
health broken by privations and disappointment. Gilbert, a stronger man,
but who has been somewhat honoured by being called the French
Chatterton, died still younger, after writing some vigorous satire, and a
'complaint' or elegy which has a good deal of pathos. But he did not, as is
generally said, die of want, though he did die in a public hospital, having
been carried thither after a fall from his horse.
The places accorded by their contemporaries to Delille
and Lebrun really belonged to two writers of very Parny.
different character and fortune, Parny and André
Chénier. Evariste de Parny, a native of the island of Bourbon, was called by
the aged Voltaire 'mon cher Tibulle,' and displays, with much of the frivolity
and false gallantry of the time, an extraordinary command of simple elegiac
verse, and a manner almost antique in its simplicity and sweetness. Parny's
best piece, a short epitaph on a young girl, is one of the best things of its
kind in literature. His merits, however, are confined to his early works. In
his maturer years he wrote long poems, on the model of the Pucelle, against
England, Christianity, and Monarchism, which are equally remarkable for
poet of the last quarter of the century was shared by a Lebrun.
writer whom his contemporaries surnamed (absurdly
enough) Pindar. Escouchard Lebrun had a strange resemblance to J. B.
Rousseau, of whom, however, he was by no means a warm admirer. Like
his forerunner, he divided his time between bombastic lyrics and epigrams
of very considerable merit. Lebrun was not destitute of a certain force, but
his time was too much for him. He was a very long-lived man, and in his
old age celebrated by turns the Republic and Bonaparte. His chief rivals as
poets of the Republic were M. J. Chénier and the hunchback Desorgues, a
voluminous and vigorous but crude and unfinished writer, who died in a
madhouse at the age of forty-five.
Two young poets, who lived about the middle of the century, are usually
mentioned together, from the fact of the younger of them having used the
misfortunes of the elder to point his own complaints. Malfilâtre, a Norman
by birth, had the ill-luck to write a piece of verse which gained a provincial
success. He at once set out for Paris to make his fortune. He obtained the
post of secretary to the Count de Lauraguais, wrote verses not without grace
and full of a certain tender melancholy, and died at the age of thirty, his
health broken by privations and disappointment. Gilbert, a stronger man,
but who has been somewhat honoured by being called the French
Chatterton, died still younger, after writing some vigorous satire, and a
'complaint' or elegy which has a good deal of pathos. But he did not, as is
generally said, die of want, though he did die in a public hospital, having
been carried thither after a fall from his horse.
The places accorded by their contemporaries to Delille
and Lebrun really belonged to two writers of very Parny.
different character and fortune, Parny and André
Chénier. Evariste de Parny, a native of the island of Bourbon, was called by
the aged Voltaire 'mon cher Tibulle,' and displays, with much of the frivolity
and false gallantry of the time, an extraordinary command of simple elegiac
verse, and a manner almost antique in its simplicity and sweetness. Parny's
best piece, a short epitaph on a young girl, is one of the best things of its
kind in literature. His merits, however, are confined to his early works. In
his maturer years he wrote long poems, on the model of the Pucelle, against
England, Christianity, and Monarchism, which are equally remarkable for
Page 423
blasphemy, obscenity, extravagance, and dulness. His friend Bertin, like
him a creole, resembled him in the command of graceful elegiac and
epistolary verse, but had not what Parny sometimes had, genuine passion.
André Marie de Chénier[285], beyond question the
greatest poet of the eighteenth century in France, was Chénier.
born at Constantinople, where his father was consul-
general, in 1762. His mother was a Greek. His family returned to France
when he was a child; he was educated carefully, and for a short time served
in the army, but soon left it. After a time he was attached (in 1787) to the
French embassy in London. Here he spent four years. Returning to France
he sympathised, but on the moderate side, with the Revolution. The growth
of the Jacobin spirit horrified him, and the excesses of the summer of 1792
decided his attitude and his fate. He wrote frequently in the Journal de
Paris, the organ of the moderate royalist party. Although he did not in any
way put himself forward, he was at last arrested in March, 1794, and was
guillotined on the seventh Thermidor, two days only before the event which
would have saved him, the fall of Robespierre. His poems were not
published till long after his death, and the text of them is even now in an
unsatisfactory condition, many having been left unfinished and uncorrected
by the author. André Chénier is sometimes considered as a precursor of the
Romantic reform, but this is a mistake. His critical comments on
Shakespeare and other writers, his favourite studies, which were confined to
the Greek and Latin classics and the humanists of the Italian Renaissance,
above all his poems themselves, prove the contrary. A Greek by birthplace,
and half a Greek by blood, his tastes and standards were wholly classical.
But the fire and force of his poetical genius made the blood circulate afresh
in the veins of the old French classical tradition, without, however,
permanently strengthening or renovating it. The poetry of Chénier is still in
the main the poetry of Racine, though with infinitely more glow of colour
and variety of harmony. His poems are mostly antique in their titles and
plan, eclogues, elegies, and so forth, and are not free from a certain
artificiality inseparable from the style. La Jeune Tarentine, La Jeune
Captive, L'Aveugle, and some others, are of extreme merit, and all over his
work (much of which is in the most fragmentary condition) lines and
phrases of extraordinary beauty are scattered. The noble Iambes, or political
and satirical poems, which he wrote in prison, just before his death, bear
him a creole, resembled him in the command of graceful elegiac and
epistolary verse, but had not what Parny sometimes had, genuine passion.
André Marie de Chénier[285], beyond question the
greatest poet of the eighteenth century in France, was Chénier.
born at Constantinople, where his father was consul-
general, in 1762. His mother was a Greek. His family returned to France
when he was a child; he was educated carefully, and for a short time served
in the army, but soon left it. After a time he was attached (in 1787) to the
French embassy in London. Here he spent four years. Returning to France
he sympathised, but on the moderate side, with the Revolution. The growth
of the Jacobin spirit horrified him, and the excesses of the summer of 1792
decided his attitude and his fate. He wrote frequently in the Journal de
Paris, the organ of the moderate royalist party. Although he did not in any
way put himself forward, he was at last arrested in March, 1794, and was
guillotined on the seventh Thermidor, two days only before the event which
would have saved him, the fall of Robespierre. His poems were not
published till long after his death, and the text of them is even now in an
unsatisfactory condition, many having been left unfinished and uncorrected
by the author. André Chénier is sometimes considered as a precursor of the
Romantic reform, but this is a mistake. His critical comments on
Shakespeare and other writers, his favourite studies, which were confined to
the Greek and Latin classics and the humanists of the Italian Renaissance,
above all his poems themselves, prove the contrary. A Greek by birthplace,
and half a Greek by blood, his tastes and standards were wholly classical.
But the fire and force of his poetical genius made the blood circulate afresh
in the veins of the old French classical tradition, without, however,
permanently strengthening or renovating it. The poetry of Chénier is still in
the main the poetry of Racine, though with infinitely more glow of colour
and variety of harmony. His poems are mostly antique in their titles and
plan, eclogues, elegies, and so forth, and are not free from a certain
artificiality inseparable from the style. La Jeune Tarentine, La Jeune
Captive, L'Aveugle, and some others, are of extreme merit, and all over his
work (much of which is in the most fragmentary condition) lines and
phrases of extraordinary beauty are scattered. The noble Iambes, or political
and satirical poems, which he wrote in prison, just before his death, bear
Page 424
out, perhaps better than anything else, his well-known saying, as he touched
his head when sentence had been passed, 'et pourtant il y avait quelque
chose là.'
A few other poets or verse-makers of merit before the
revival of poetry proper must be rapidly noticed. The Minor Poets.
fable of La Fontaine was cultivated vigorously, in
particular by Florian, a favourite pupil of Voltaire, who will reappear in
these pages. Florian's fables are graceful copies of his master. Those of
Arnault, with less grace, have more originality; often, indeed, Arnault's
short moral poems are not so much fables as what used to be called in
English 'emblems.' The most famous of these, which of itself deserves to
keep Arnault's memory green, is 'La Feuille.' Marie Joseph Chénier, the
younger brother of André, and, unlike him, a fervent republican, is chiefly
known as a dramatist. He had, however, a vein of satirical verse, which was
not commonplace. Another dramatist, Andrieux, also deserves mention in
passing. Superior to either of these as a poet, and wanting only the good-
fortune of having been born a little later, was Nepomucène Lemercier, a
playwright of no small merit, and a poet of extraordinary but unequal
vigour. The Panhypocrisiade, a kind of satirical epic par personnages (to
use the old French expression for a dramatic narrative), is his principal
work, and a very remarkable one. Last of all have to be mentioned Fontanes
and Chênedollé, who are the characteristic poets of the Empire, with the
exception of an epic school of no value. The chief importance of Fontanes
in literature is derived not from any performances of his own, but from the
fact that he was the appointed intermediary between Napoleon and the men
of letters of the time, and was able to exercise a good deal of useful
patronage. Chênedollé was in production, if not in publication, for he
published late in life, a precursor of Lamartine, much of whose style and
manner may be found in him. An amiable appreciation of natural beauty,
and a tendency to facile pathos, derived from the contemplation of natural
objects, distinguish him from his predecessors.
The vigorous, if not always edifying, work of the song-
writers and authors of vers de société during this century Light verse. Piron.
remains to be noticed. The example of La Fontaine's
tales was followed by many writers of more talent than Désaugiers.
scruple, but their literary value is not sufficient to entitle
his head when sentence had been passed, 'et pourtant il y avait quelque
chose là.'
A few other poets or verse-makers of merit before the
revival of poetry proper must be rapidly noticed. The Minor Poets.
fable of La Fontaine was cultivated vigorously, in
particular by Florian, a favourite pupil of Voltaire, who will reappear in
these pages. Florian's fables are graceful copies of his master. Those of
Arnault, with less grace, have more originality; often, indeed, Arnault's
short moral poems are not so much fables as what used to be called in
English 'emblems.' The most famous of these, which of itself deserves to
keep Arnault's memory green, is 'La Feuille.' Marie Joseph Chénier, the
younger brother of André, and, unlike him, a fervent republican, is chiefly
known as a dramatist. He had, however, a vein of satirical verse, which was
not commonplace. Another dramatist, Andrieux, also deserves mention in
passing. Superior to either of these as a poet, and wanting only the good-
fortune of having been born a little later, was Nepomucène Lemercier, a
playwright of no small merit, and a poet of extraordinary but unequal
vigour. The Panhypocrisiade, a kind of satirical epic par personnages (to
use the old French expression for a dramatic narrative), is his principal
work, and a very remarkable one. Last of all have to be mentioned Fontanes
and Chênedollé, who are the characteristic poets of the Empire, with the
exception of an epic school of no value. The chief importance of Fontanes
in literature is derived not from any performances of his own, but from the
fact that he was the appointed intermediary between Napoleon and the men
of letters of the time, and was able to exercise a good deal of useful
patronage. Chênedollé was in production, if not in publication, for he
published late in life, a precursor of Lamartine, much of whose style and
manner may be found in him. An amiable appreciation of natural beauty,
and a tendency to facile pathos, derived from the contemplation of natural
objects, distinguish him from his predecessors.
The vigorous, if not always edifying, work of the song-
writers and authors of vers de société during this century Light verse. Piron.
remains to be noticed. The example of La Fontaine's
tales was followed by many writers of more talent than Désaugiers.
scruple, but their literary value is not sufficient to entitle
Page 425
them to a place here. No history of French literature, however, would be
complete without a notice of Piron, the greatest epigrammatist of France,
and one of her keenest and brightest wits. Piron's temper was an idle one,
and he did little solid work in literature, except his epigrams and one
comedy, La Métromanie. He wrote many vaudevilles and operettas, and no
one, with the possible exception of Catullus, has ever excelled him in the art
of packing in a few light and graceful lines the greatest possible quantity of
malicious wit. Panard, also a vaudevillist, is remarkable for the number and
excellence of his drinking songs, and the variety and melody of their
rhythm. Collé, author of amusing but spiteful memoirs, and, like Piron and
Panard, a writer of comic operettas, excelled rather in the political chanson.
Gentil Bernard, the Cardinal de Bernis, the Abbé Boufflers, and Dorat, were
all writers of vers de société, the last being much the best. Their style of
writing was frivolous and conventional in the extreme, but long practice
and the vogue which it enjoyed in French society had brought it to
something like the condition of a fine art. Dorat was surnamed by a
contemporary the 'glowworm of Parnassus.' The expression was not an
unhappy one, and may be fairly applied to the other authors who have been
mentioned in his company. He himself was a rather voluminous author in
different styles. The literary baggage of the others is not heavy. Vadé, a
writer of light and trifling verse, who died comparatively young, devoted
himself to composing poems in the 'poissard' dialect of Paris, which are
among the best of such things. At the close of the century, and deserving
more particular notice, appeared Désaugiers, the best light song-writer of
France, with the single exception of Béranger, and preferred to him by some
critics. Désaugiers escaped the revolution by good fortune, had a short but
rather adventurous career of foreign travel, and then settled down to
vaudeville-writing, song-making, and jovial living in Paris. He was a great
frequenter of the Caveau, a kind of irregular club of men of letters which
had been instituted by Piron and his friends, and which long continued to be
a literary and social rendezvous. Désaugiers was the last of the older class
of Chansonniers, who relied chiefly on love and wine for their subjects, and
who, if they touched on politics at all, touched on them merely from the
personal and satirical point of view, with occasional indulgence in cheap
patriotism. His songs have great sweetness and ease, but they contain
nothing that can compare with Béranger in his more serious and pathetic
mood[286].
complete without a notice of Piron, the greatest epigrammatist of France,
and one of her keenest and brightest wits. Piron's temper was an idle one,
and he did little solid work in literature, except his epigrams and one
comedy, La Métromanie. He wrote many vaudevilles and operettas, and no
one, with the possible exception of Catullus, has ever excelled him in the art
of packing in a few light and graceful lines the greatest possible quantity of
malicious wit. Panard, also a vaudevillist, is remarkable for the number and
excellence of his drinking songs, and the variety and melody of their
rhythm. Collé, author of amusing but spiteful memoirs, and, like Piron and
Panard, a writer of comic operettas, excelled rather in the political chanson.
Gentil Bernard, the Cardinal de Bernis, the Abbé Boufflers, and Dorat, were
all writers of vers de société, the last being much the best. Their style of
writing was frivolous and conventional in the extreme, but long practice
and the vogue which it enjoyed in French society had brought it to
something like the condition of a fine art. Dorat was surnamed by a
contemporary the 'glowworm of Parnassus.' The expression was not an
unhappy one, and may be fairly applied to the other authors who have been
mentioned in his company. He himself was a rather voluminous author in
different styles. The literary baggage of the others is not heavy. Vadé, a
writer of light and trifling verse, who died comparatively young, devoted
himself to composing poems in the 'poissard' dialect of Paris, which are
among the best of such things. At the close of the century, and deserving
more particular notice, appeared Désaugiers, the best light song-writer of
France, with the single exception of Béranger, and preferred to him by some
critics. Désaugiers escaped the revolution by good fortune, had a short but
rather adventurous career of foreign travel, and then settled down to
vaudeville-writing, song-making, and jovial living in Paris. He was a great
frequenter of the Caveau, a kind of irregular club of men of letters which
had been instituted by Piron and his friends, and which long continued to be
a literary and social rendezvous. Désaugiers was the last of the older class
of Chansonniers, who relied chiefly on love and wine for their subjects, and
who, if they touched on politics at all, touched on them merely from the
personal and satirical point of view, with occasional indulgence in cheap
patriotism. His songs have great sweetness and ease, but they contain
nothing that can compare with Béranger in his more serious and pathetic
mood[286].
Page 426
This is a sketch, necessarily and designedly rapid, of the poetical history of
the eighteenth century in France. The matter thus rapidly treated is of no
small interest to professed students of literature; it abounds in curious social
indications; it gives frequent instances of the extremest ingenuity applied to
somewhat unworthy use. But in the history of the literature as a whole, and
to those who have to regard it not as a collection of curiosities, but as a
fruitful field of great and noble work, it cannot but be of subordinate
interest, and as such requires but cursory treatment here[287].
FOOTNOTES:
[284] Editions of almost all authors of any merit from the beginning of the
eighteenth century are common and accessible enough. They will, therefore, not
be specially indicated henceforward unless there is some special reason for the
citation, such as the peculiar elegance or literary merit of a particular edition, or
else the comparative rarity of the book in any form.
[285] Chénier has been somewhat unfortunate in his editors. The only complete
and accurate edition (though it is far from perfect) is that of M. Gabriel de
Chénier. 3 vols. 1879.
[286] Excellent selections from many of these lighter poets have recently been
put forth under the editorship of M. Octave Uzanne.
[287] Rouget de L'Isle, the author of the famous Marseillaise, deserves mention
for that only. He published poems, but their singular difference from, and
inferiority to, his masterpiece were the chief causes of the scepticism (apparently
ill-founded) which has sometimes been displayed as to his authorship of it.
the eighteenth century in France. The matter thus rapidly treated is of no
small interest to professed students of literature; it abounds in curious social
indications; it gives frequent instances of the extremest ingenuity applied to
somewhat unworthy use. But in the history of the literature as a whole, and
to those who have to regard it not as a collection of curiosities, but as a
fruitful field of great and noble work, it cannot but be of subordinate
interest, and as such requires but cursory treatment here[287].
FOOTNOTES:
[284] Editions of almost all authors of any merit from the beginning of the
eighteenth century are common and accessible enough. They will, therefore, not
be specially indicated henceforward unless there is some special reason for the
citation, such as the peculiar elegance or literary merit of a particular edition, or
else the comparative rarity of the book in any form.
[285] Chénier has been somewhat unfortunate in his editors. The only complete
and accurate edition (though it is far from perfect) is that of M. Gabriel de
Chénier. 3 vols. 1879.
[286] Excellent selections from many of these lighter poets have recently been
put forth under the editorship of M. Octave Uzanne.
[287] Rouget de L'Isle, the author of the famous Marseillaise, deserves mention
for that only. He published poems, but their singular difference from, and
inferiority to, his masterpiece were the chief causes of the scepticism (apparently
ill-founded) which has sometimes been displayed as to his authorship of it.
Page 427
CHAPTER II.
DRAMATISTS.
At the beginning, and indeed during the whole course, of
the eighteenth century, the theatre continued to enjoy all Divisions of Drama.
the vogue which the extraordinary brilliancy of the
authors of the preceding age had conferred on it. There La Motte.
were three tolerably distinct kinds of dramatic work—
tragedy, comedy, and opera—the latter either artificial or comic, and
subdividing itself into a great many classes, from the dignified opera of the
Comédie Française and the Comédie Italienne, down to the vaudevilles and
operettas of the so-called 'fair' theatre, Théâtre de la Foire. Towards the
middle of the century there grew up a fourth class, to which the not very
appropriate and still less definite name of drame is applied. This was
subdivided, also somewhat arbitrarily, into tragédie bourgeoise and
comédie larmoyante. Thus the dramatic author had considerable liberty of
choice except in tragedy proper, where the model of Racine was enforced
on him with pitiless rigour. La Motte, who was, as has been said, a brilliant
writer of prose, endeavoured to break these bonds, first, by decrying the
alleged superiority of the ancients; secondly, by attacking the theory of the
unities; and, lastly, by boldly denying the necessity of verse in tragedy, and
still more the necessity of rhyme. He was, of course, answered, and the only
one of the answers which has much interest for posterity is that which
Voltaire prefixed to the second edition of Œdipe. This is, as always with its
author, lively and ingenious, but ill-informed, destitute of true critical
principles, and entirely inconclusive. La Motte himself wrote a tragedy, Inès
de Castro, in which he did not venture to carry out his own principles, and
which had some success. But the justice of his strictures was best shown by
the increasing feebleness of French tragedy throughout the century. Were it
not for the prodigious genius of Voltaire, not a single tragedy of the age
would now have much chance of being read, still less of being performed;
and were it not for that genius, and the unequal but still remarkable talent of
DRAMATISTS.
At the beginning, and indeed during the whole course, of
the eighteenth century, the theatre continued to enjoy all Divisions of Drama.
the vogue which the extraordinary brilliancy of the
authors of the preceding age had conferred on it. There La Motte.
were three tolerably distinct kinds of dramatic work—
tragedy, comedy, and opera—the latter either artificial or comic, and
subdividing itself into a great many classes, from the dignified opera of the
Comédie Française and the Comédie Italienne, down to the vaudevilles and
operettas of the so-called 'fair' theatre, Théâtre de la Foire. Towards the
middle of the century there grew up a fourth class, to which the not very
appropriate and still less definite name of drame is applied. This was
subdivided, also somewhat arbitrarily, into tragédie bourgeoise and
comédie larmoyante. Thus the dramatic author had considerable liberty of
choice except in tragedy proper, where the model of Racine was enforced
on him with pitiless rigour. La Motte, who was, as has been said, a brilliant
writer of prose, endeavoured to break these bonds, first, by decrying the
alleged superiority of the ancients; secondly, by attacking the theory of the
unities; and, lastly, by boldly denying the necessity of verse in tragedy, and
still more the necessity of rhyme. He was, of course, answered, and the only
one of the answers which has much interest for posterity is that which
Voltaire prefixed to the second edition of Œdipe. This is, as always with its
author, lively and ingenious, but ill-informed, destitute of true critical
principles, and entirely inconclusive. La Motte himself wrote a tragedy, Inès
de Castro, in which he did not venture to carry out his own principles, and
which had some success. But the justice of his strictures was best shown by
the increasing feebleness of French tragedy throughout the century. Were it
not for the prodigious genius of Voltaire, not a single tragedy of the age
would now have much chance of being read, still less of being performed;
and were it not for that genius, and the unequal but still remarkable talent of
Page 428
Crébillon the elder, not a single tragedy of the age would be worth reading
for any motive except curiosity, simple or studious.
Crébillon was born in 1674, and lived to the age of
eighty-nine. His family name was Jolyot, and the most Crébillon the Elder.
remarkable thing about his private history is, that, being
clerk to a lawyer, he was enthusiastically encouraged by his master in his
poetical attempts. His first acted tragedy, Idoménée, appeared in 1703; his
last, 'The Triumvirate,' more than fifty years later. In the interval he was
irregularly busy, and the duel of tragedies, which in his old age his partisans
got up between him and Voltaire, was not entirely in favour of the more
famous and gifted writer. Crébillon's best works were Atrée, 1707, and
Rhadamiste et Zénobie, 1711, the latter being his masterpiece. He had in the
eyes of the minute critics of his time some technical defects of style and
construction. But, despite the restraints of the French stage, he succeeded in
being truly tragical and truly natural; and not a few of his verses have a
grandeur which has been said to be hardly discoverable elsewhere in French
tragedy between Corneille and Hugo.
Voltaire's own tragedies have been very differently
judged by different persons. It has been said that they Voltaire and his
followers.
owed their popularity chiefly to the adroit manner in
which, without going too far, the author made them opportunities for
insinuating the popular opinions of the time. Yet Zaïre at least is still a
successful and popular play on the stage; and it is admitted that Voltaire had
both a most intimate acquaintance with the objects and methods of the
playwright, and an extraordinary affection for the theatre. If to this be added
his astonishing dexterity as a literary workman, his acuteness in discerning
the taste of the public, and his complete mastery of the language, and if it be
remembered that the classical French tragedy is almost wholly a tour de
force, it will appear that it would have been very surprising if he had not
succeeded in it. His tragedies, however, are by no means of equal merit. The
best is, beyond all doubt, the already-mentioned Zaïre, 1732, in which
Voltaire took just so much from the Othello of that Shakespeare whom he
was never tired of decrying as would suffice to animate and support his own
skilful workmanship. The earlier play, Œdipe, 1718, was astonishingly
successful, and is still astonishingly clever. La Mort de César, another
Shakespearian adaptation, is less happy. In Alzire, a play written in the time
for any motive except curiosity, simple or studious.
Crébillon was born in 1674, and lived to the age of
eighty-nine. His family name was Jolyot, and the most Crébillon the Elder.
remarkable thing about his private history is, that, being
clerk to a lawyer, he was enthusiastically encouraged by his master in his
poetical attempts. His first acted tragedy, Idoménée, appeared in 1703; his
last, 'The Triumvirate,' more than fifty years later. In the interval he was
irregularly busy, and the duel of tragedies, which in his old age his partisans
got up between him and Voltaire, was not entirely in favour of the more
famous and gifted writer. Crébillon's best works were Atrée, 1707, and
Rhadamiste et Zénobie, 1711, the latter being his masterpiece. He had in the
eyes of the minute critics of his time some technical defects of style and
construction. But, despite the restraints of the French stage, he succeeded in
being truly tragical and truly natural; and not a few of his verses have a
grandeur which has been said to be hardly discoverable elsewhere in French
tragedy between Corneille and Hugo.
Voltaire's own tragedies have been very differently
judged by different persons. It has been said that they Voltaire and his
followers.
owed their popularity chiefly to the adroit manner in
which, without going too far, the author made them opportunities for
insinuating the popular opinions of the time. Yet Zaïre at least is still a
successful and popular play on the stage; and it is admitted that Voltaire had
both a most intimate acquaintance with the objects and methods of the
playwright, and an extraordinary affection for the theatre. If to this be added
his astonishing dexterity as a literary workman, his acuteness in discerning
the taste of the public, and his complete mastery of the language, and if it be
remembered that the classical French tragedy is almost wholly a tour de
force, it will appear that it would have been very surprising if he had not
succeeded in it. His tragedies, however, are by no means of equal merit. The
best is, beyond all doubt, the already-mentioned Zaïre, 1732, in which
Voltaire took just so much from the Othello of that Shakespeare whom he
was never tired of decrying as would suffice to animate and support his own
skilful workmanship. The earlier play, Œdipe, 1718, was astonishingly
successful, and is still astonishingly clever. La Mort de César, another
Shakespearian adaptation, is less happy. In Alzire, a play written in the time
Page 429
of the poet's greatest intimacy with Madame du Châtelet, and dedicated to
her, his extraordinary talent once more appears, as also in Le Fanatisme,
better known as Mahomet, 1742. The best, however, of his plays, next to
Zaïre, is probably Mérope, 1743, which is a prodigy of ingenuity. The
author has deliberately eschewed the means whereby both Corneille and
Racine respectively alleviated the dryness and dulness of the Senecan
model—the heroic virtues of the one, and the sighs and flames of the other.
The play probably is the most perfect carrying out of the model pure and
simple, and its inferiority is the inferiority of the kind, not of the individual.
Indeed it may be questioned whether, on the mere technical merits, Voltaire
is not superior to both Corneille and Racine, though he is of course very far
inferior to them as a poet, and as a draughtsman of character. Voltaire wrote
many other plays, earlier and later, of which Tancrède is the only one which
requires special mention. Nor, except Crébillon, do the tragic
contemporaries and successors of Voltaire require more than very short
notice. Le Franc de Pompignan wrote a respectable Didon; Saurin, who was
in some sort a follower of Voltaire, a more than respectable Spartacus. The
subject had perhaps the chief part in the success of the Siège de Calais of
Pierre Burette, who called himself De Belloy, and who followed it up by
other patriotic tragedies or dramas. But he had the merit of attempting,
though not with much success, some innovations on the meagreness of the
established model. The tragedies of La Harpe are written throughout with
the cold correctness (as correctness was then held) which characterised his
work generally. Almost all the men of letters of this time wrote plays of this
kind, but they are for the most part valueless. Ducis is remarkable for a
serious, and to a certain extent successful, attempt to inoculate the French
tragedy with Shakespearian force. Versions of Hamlet, of Macbeth, and
other plays appeared from his hands, which were also busy during a long
life with dramatic work of all sorts. These versions have naturally been
regarded in England as mere travesties, but there seems no reason to doubt
that they really operated favourably as schoolmasters to bring their
audience somewhat nearer to dramatic truth. The classical tragedy was
indeed expiring of simple old age, and most of the names of its
practitioners, which emerge during the last quarter of the eighteenth and the
first of the nineteenth century, are those of innovators in their measure and
degree, whose innovations, however, were obliterated and made forgotten
by the great romantic reform. Marie Joseph Chénier followed Voltaire's
her, his extraordinary talent once more appears, as also in Le Fanatisme,
better known as Mahomet, 1742. The best, however, of his plays, next to
Zaïre, is probably Mérope, 1743, which is a prodigy of ingenuity. The
author has deliberately eschewed the means whereby both Corneille and
Racine respectively alleviated the dryness and dulness of the Senecan
model—the heroic virtues of the one, and the sighs and flames of the other.
The play probably is the most perfect carrying out of the model pure and
simple, and its inferiority is the inferiority of the kind, not of the individual.
Indeed it may be questioned whether, on the mere technical merits, Voltaire
is not superior to both Corneille and Racine, though he is of course very far
inferior to them as a poet, and as a draughtsman of character. Voltaire wrote
many other plays, earlier and later, of which Tancrède is the only one which
requires special mention. Nor, except Crébillon, do the tragic
contemporaries and successors of Voltaire require more than very short
notice. Le Franc de Pompignan wrote a respectable Didon; Saurin, who was
in some sort a follower of Voltaire, a more than respectable Spartacus. The
subject had perhaps the chief part in the success of the Siège de Calais of
Pierre Burette, who called himself De Belloy, and who followed it up by
other patriotic tragedies or dramas. But he had the merit of attempting,
though not with much success, some innovations on the meagreness of the
established model. The tragedies of La Harpe are written throughout with
the cold correctness (as correctness was then held) which characterised his
work generally. Almost all the men of letters of this time wrote plays of this
kind, but they are for the most part valueless. Ducis is remarkable for a
serious, and to a certain extent successful, attempt to inoculate the French
tragedy with Shakespearian force. Versions of Hamlet, of Macbeth, and
other plays appeared from his hands, which were also busy during a long
life with dramatic work of all sorts. These versions have naturally been
regarded in England as mere travesties, but there seems no reason to doubt
that they really operated favourably as schoolmasters to bring their
audience somewhat nearer to dramatic truth. The classical tragedy was
indeed expiring of simple old age, and most of the names of its
practitioners, which emerge during the last quarter of the eighteenth and the
first of the nineteenth century, are those of innovators in their measure and
degree, whose innovations, however, were obliterated and made forgotten
by the great romantic reform. Marie Joseph Chénier followed Voltaire's
Page 430
manner very closely (substituting for Voltaire's bait of insinuated free-
thinking that of republicanism more or less violently expressed) in Charles
IX., Cyrus, Caius Gracchus, Henry VIII., Tibère, the last a work of some
merit. Legouvé dramatised Gessner's Death of Abel on the principles of
Boileau. Nepomucène Lemercier, the strange failure of a genius who has
been already noticed in the last chapter, produced much more remarkable
work. His Agamemnon, his Frédégonde et Brunehault and some others
display his merits, and show that he was striving after something better.
But, like most transitional work, they are unsatisfactory as a whole. The
Hector of Luce de Lancival, the Templiers of Raynouard, and many other
pieces, were once popular, but are now utterly forgotten.
The list of comic writers, along with whom, for
convenience' sake, those of the authors of opera and Lesage.
drame may be included, is far longer and more
important. It includes two men, Lesage and Beaumarchais, of European
reputation, half-a-dozen others, Destouches, Marivaux, Piron, Gresset,
Sedaine, who have produced work of remarkable character and merit, and a
crowd of clever playwrights who amused their own times, and would amuse
ours, if it were not that all comedy, save the very highest, is of its nature
ephemeral. The list is worthily opened by Lesage, who, during the greater
part of his life, earned by vaudevilles and operettas, composed either alone
or in co-operation for the Théâtre de la Foire, the bread which his
incomparable novels would hardly have sufficed to procure him. This
lighter dramatic work is, it may be observed, among the chief products of
the century, and it has continued up to the present day to form one of the
staple elements in the journey-work of French literature. Little of it has
permanent qualities, yet the remarkable talents of many of the men who
composed it make it, ephemeral as it is, interesting historically and even
intrinsically. It derived partly from the indigenous farce, partly from the
Italian comedy of stock personages, and partly from the merry-andrew
performances already mentioned. The theatres at which it was performed
were the object of much jealousy from the Comédie Française, and
restrictions of the most annoying kind were placed on it. Once an edict
forbade more than a single actor to appear—a condition surmounted by the
ingenuity of Piron. Sometimes it was confined to dumb show, illustrated by
songs on placards which the audience chanted. Often the audience joined in
thinking that of republicanism more or less violently expressed) in Charles
IX., Cyrus, Caius Gracchus, Henry VIII., Tibère, the last a work of some
merit. Legouvé dramatised Gessner's Death of Abel on the principles of
Boileau. Nepomucène Lemercier, the strange failure of a genius who has
been already noticed in the last chapter, produced much more remarkable
work. His Agamemnon, his Frédégonde et Brunehault and some others
display his merits, and show that he was striving after something better.
But, like most transitional work, they are unsatisfactory as a whole. The
Hector of Luce de Lancival, the Templiers of Raynouard, and many other
pieces, were once popular, but are now utterly forgotten.
The list of comic writers, along with whom, for
convenience' sake, those of the authors of opera and Lesage.
drame may be included, is far longer and more
important. It includes two men, Lesage and Beaumarchais, of European
reputation, half-a-dozen others, Destouches, Marivaux, Piron, Gresset,
Sedaine, who have produced work of remarkable character and merit, and a
crowd of clever playwrights who amused their own times, and would amuse
ours, if it were not that all comedy, save the very highest, is of its nature
ephemeral. The list is worthily opened by Lesage, who, during the greater
part of his life, earned by vaudevilles and operettas, composed either alone
or in co-operation for the Théâtre de la Foire, the bread which his
incomparable novels would hardly have sufficed to procure him. This
lighter dramatic work is, it may be observed, among the chief products of
the century, and it has continued up to the present day to form one of the
staple elements in the journey-work of French literature. Little of it has
permanent qualities, yet the remarkable talents of many of the men who
composed it make it, ephemeral as it is, interesting historically and even
intrinsically. It derived partly from the indigenous farce, partly from the
Italian comedy of stock personages, and partly from the merry-andrew
performances already mentioned. The theatres at which it was performed
were the object of much jealousy from the Comédie Française, and
restrictions of the most annoying kind were placed on it. Once an edict
forbade more than a single actor to appear—a condition surmounted by the
ingenuity of Piron. Sometimes it was confined to dumb show, illustrated by
songs on placards which the audience chanted. Often the audience joined in
Page 431
the chorus, and it may be said generally that singing was always included.
Besides this rapid and perishable kind of work Lesage has left two pieces in
the true style of Molière. The more extravagant and farcical side of the
master's genius is represented by Crispin Rival de son Maître, 1707, a lively
piece, the subject of which is indicated by its title, and which carries off the
extreme and probably intentional improbability of its plot by its brisk and
rapid action, its vivid pictures of character, and the shower of wit which the
dialogue everywhere pours out. Turcaret, 1709, is a regular comedy of the
highest merit. It has been found fault with by some French critics,
enamoured of the ruling passion and central situation theory; but this is
really a testimony to its merit. Turcaret is in the strictest sense a criticism of
life at the time, and the author shows the true prodigality of genius in filling
his canvas. It is often described as a satire on the corruption and vices of the
financiers, who were the curse of France at the time; and this it is in part.
But there are combined with this satire of the loose morals of the nobility,
the follies of provincial coteries, the meanness of the trading classes; while
each character, instead of being an abstraction, is as sharp and individual as
Gil Blas himself. Like Lesage, Piron worked much for the theatre; indeed
he made his début, as has been said, by venturing on a task which even
Lesage had declined,—the writing of a comic opera with a single actor
only. Like Lesage, too, he has left one comedy of durable reputation, La
Métromanie, which, if it falls short of Turcaret in holding up the mirror to
nature, equals it in wit, and has for a French audience the attraction of being
written in very good verse, while Turcaret is in prose. With perhaps less
genius than Piron, and certainly with less than Lesage, Destouches devoted
himself to a higher class of work on the whole, and has left more pieces that
are remembered. Le Philosophe Marié, 1727, and Le Glorieux, 1732, are
among the classics of French comedy. Le Dissipateur, Le Tambour
Nocturne, L'Obstacle Imprévu have also much merit; and if La Fausse
Agnès has something of the farcical in it, it is farce of the right kind.
Destouches wrote seventeen comedies; and, if bulk and general merit of
work are taken together, he deserves the first place among the comic
dramatists of the century in France.
In contrast to these three writers, who all followed the
traditions of the comedy of Molière and Regnard, Comédie
Larmoyante. La
Nivelle de la Chaussée invented, or at least brought into Chaussée. Diderot.
Besides this rapid and perishable kind of work Lesage has left two pieces in
the true style of Molière. The more extravagant and farcical side of the
master's genius is represented by Crispin Rival de son Maître, 1707, a lively
piece, the subject of which is indicated by its title, and which carries off the
extreme and probably intentional improbability of its plot by its brisk and
rapid action, its vivid pictures of character, and the shower of wit which the
dialogue everywhere pours out. Turcaret, 1709, is a regular comedy of the
highest merit. It has been found fault with by some French critics,
enamoured of the ruling passion and central situation theory; but this is
really a testimony to its merit. Turcaret is in the strictest sense a criticism of
life at the time, and the author shows the true prodigality of genius in filling
his canvas. It is often described as a satire on the corruption and vices of the
financiers, who were the curse of France at the time; and this it is in part.
But there are combined with this satire of the loose morals of the nobility,
the follies of provincial coteries, the meanness of the trading classes; while
each character, instead of being an abstraction, is as sharp and individual as
Gil Blas himself. Like Lesage, Piron worked much for the theatre; indeed
he made his début, as has been said, by venturing on a task which even
Lesage had declined,—the writing of a comic opera with a single actor
only. Like Lesage, too, he has left one comedy of durable reputation, La
Métromanie, which, if it falls short of Turcaret in holding up the mirror to
nature, equals it in wit, and has for a French audience the attraction of being
written in very good verse, while Turcaret is in prose. With perhaps less
genius than Piron, and certainly with less than Lesage, Destouches devoted
himself to a higher class of work on the whole, and has left more pieces that
are remembered. Le Philosophe Marié, 1727, and Le Glorieux, 1732, are
among the classics of French comedy. Le Dissipateur, Le Tambour
Nocturne, L'Obstacle Imprévu have also much merit; and if La Fausse
Agnès has something of the farcical in it, it is farce of the right kind.
Destouches wrote seventeen comedies; and, if bulk and general merit of
work are taken together, he deserves the first place among the comic
dramatists of the century in France.
In contrast to these three writers, who all followed the
traditions of the comedy of Molière and Regnard, Comédie
Larmoyante. La
Nivelle de la Chaussée invented, or at least brought into Chaussée. Diderot.
Page 432
fashion, what was called comédie larmoyante, or drame. La Chaussée was a
good deal ridiculed by his contemporaries, notably by Piron, who devoted
to him some of his most admirable epigrams. But he was popular, and not
altogether undeservedly popular, though his drama occupied in French
literary history something of the same place as that of Lillo and Moore in
English. La Chaussée was followed by a greater writer, but a worse
dramatist, than himself. While La Chaussée was a clever versifier and an
adroit playwright, Diderot understood the theory both of poetry and of the
theatre much better than he understood the practice. Thus L'École des
Mères, La Gouvernante, Le Préjugé à la Mode are better plays than Le Père
de Famille or Le Fils Naturel. It ought to be said that Diderot succeeded
better in two small pieces, La Pièce et le Prologue and Est-il Bon? Est-il
Méchant? which were never acted. It should perhaps also be explained that
the peculiarity of what was almost indifferently called tragédie bourgeoise
and comédie larmoyante is the choice of possible situations in real life,
which neither of the two conventional treatments of heroic tragedy and
comedy purely comic can afford. Many writers followed La Chaussée and
Diderot. Of these the most important perhaps was Saurin, who, not content
with regular tragedy and comedy, obtained much success with Beverley, an
adaptation of Moore's Gamester, of which Diderot wrote an unacted
version.
L'École des Bourgeois and L'Embarras des Richesses, by D'Allainval, one
of the few French writers who experienced the privations of their English
contemporaries in Grub Street, are good pieces, and so are the short La
Pupille and the Originaux of Fagan, a clerk in the public service, who, like
Lesage and Piron (Collé and Panard may be added), wrote vaudevilles,
parades, etc. for the Théâtre de la Foire. In the titles of most of these pieces
the close following of Molière, which was usual, and wisely usual, during
the first half of the century, may be noticed.
The same tradition is observed in one of the best
comedies of the century, the Méchant of Gresset, which, Marivaux.
like his poem of Ver-Vert, had a great success, and
deserved it, being equally good as literature and as drama. Marivaux,
without, perhaps, attaining as positive an excellence, was more original, and
very much more productive. The fullest edition of his dramatic works
contains thirty-two pieces, and even this is not complete. Several of them,
good deal ridiculed by his contemporaries, notably by Piron, who devoted
to him some of his most admirable epigrams. But he was popular, and not
altogether undeservedly popular, though his drama occupied in French
literary history something of the same place as that of Lillo and Moore in
English. La Chaussée was followed by a greater writer, but a worse
dramatist, than himself. While La Chaussée was a clever versifier and an
adroit playwright, Diderot understood the theory both of poetry and of the
theatre much better than he understood the practice. Thus L'École des
Mères, La Gouvernante, Le Préjugé à la Mode are better plays than Le Père
de Famille or Le Fils Naturel. It ought to be said that Diderot succeeded
better in two small pieces, La Pièce et le Prologue and Est-il Bon? Est-il
Méchant? which were never acted. It should perhaps also be explained that
the peculiarity of what was almost indifferently called tragédie bourgeoise
and comédie larmoyante is the choice of possible situations in real life,
which neither of the two conventional treatments of heroic tragedy and
comedy purely comic can afford. Many writers followed La Chaussée and
Diderot. Of these the most important perhaps was Saurin, who, not content
with regular tragedy and comedy, obtained much success with Beverley, an
adaptation of Moore's Gamester, of which Diderot wrote an unacted
version.
L'École des Bourgeois and L'Embarras des Richesses, by D'Allainval, one
of the few French writers who experienced the privations of their English
contemporaries in Grub Street, are good pieces, and so are the short La
Pupille and the Originaux of Fagan, a clerk in the public service, who, like
Lesage and Piron (Collé and Panard may be added), wrote vaudevilles,
parades, etc. for the Théâtre de la Foire. In the titles of most of these pieces
the close following of Molière, which was usual, and wisely usual, during
the first half of the century, may be noticed.
The same tradition is observed in one of the best
comedies of the century, the Méchant of Gresset, which, Marivaux.
like his poem of Ver-Vert, had a great success, and
deserved it, being equally good as literature and as drama. Marivaux,
without, perhaps, attaining as positive an excellence, was more original, and
very much more productive. The fullest edition of his dramatic works
contains thirty-two pieces, and even this is not complete. Several of them,
Page 433
Le Jeu de l'Amour et du Hasard, 1730, Le Legs, 1736, Les Fausses
Confidences, 1737, have continued to be popular. All the work of Marivaux,
dramatic and non-dramatic, is pervaded more or less by a peculiarity which
at the time received the name of Marivaudage. This peculiarity consists
partly in the sentiment, and partly in the phraseology. The former is
characteristic of the eighteenth century, disguising a considerable
affectation under a mask of simplicity, and the latter (sparkling with
abundant, if somewhat precious wit) is ingeniously constructed to suit it and
carry it off.
Of the three greatest literary names of the time, Diderot, it has been seen,
tried the theatre not too happily. Voltaire, as successful in tragedy as his
models permitted him to be, was not successful at all in comedy, and,
indeed, rarely tried it. His best piece, Nanine, a dramatisation of Pamela, or
at least suggested by it, is chiefly remarkable for being written in
decasyllabic verse. The third, Rousseau, who lived to denounce the theatre,
wrote a short operetta, Le Devin du Village, which is not without merit.
Desmahis, a protégé of Voltaire, produced, in 1750, a good comedy,
L'Impertinent, on a small scale; and La Noue, another of his favourites (for
he was as indulgent to his juniors as he was jealous of men of his own
standing), the Coquette Corrigée. A third member of the same class, Saurin,
already twice mentioned, must be mentioned again, and still more
deservedly, for Les Mœurs du Temps. The best dramatists, however, among
the immediate followers of the Philosophes were Sedaine and Marmontel.
Sedaine is, indeed, with the possible exception of Beaumarchais, the best
dramatist of the last half of the century. Le Philosophe sans le Savoir, 1765,
and La Gageure Imprévue, 1768, are both admirable pieces. The author, like
many of his predecessors, was a constant worker for the Opéra Comique,
and one of the best of the class. Marmontel also adopted this line of
composition, to which the musical talent of Grétry gave, at the time, great
advantages. His best light dramatic work is a kind of comedy vaudeville,
the Ami de la Maison.
Beyond all doubt, however, the most remarkable, if not
the best, dramatist of the late eighteenth century is Beaumarchais.
Beaumarchais. Some critics have seen in the enormous
success of the Barbier de Séville, 1775, and the Mariage de Figaro, 1784,
nothing but a succès de circonstance connected with the political ideas
Confidences, 1737, have continued to be popular. All the work of Marivaux,
dramatic and non-dramatic, is pervaded more or less by a peculiarity which
at the time received the name of Marivaudage. This peculiarity consists
partly in the sentiment, and partly in the phraseology. The former is
characteristic of the eighteenth century, disguising a considerable
affectation under a mask of simplicity, and the latter (sparkling with
abundant, if somewhat precious wit) is ingeniously constructed to suit it and
carry it off.
Of the three greatest literary names of the time, Diderot, it has been seen,
tried the theatre not too happily. Voltaire, as successful in tragedy as his
models permitted him to be, was not successful at all in comedy, and,
indeed, rarely tried it. His best piece, Nanine, a dramatisation of Pamela, or
at least suggested by it, is chiefly remarkable for being written in
decasyllabic verse. The third, Rousseau, who lived to denounce the theatre,
wrote a short operetta, Le Devin du Village, which is not without merit.
Desmahis, a protégé of Voltaire, produced, in 1750, a good comedy,
L'Impertinent, on a small scale; and La Noue, another of his favourites (for
he was as indulgent to his juniors as he was jealous of men of his own
standing), the Coquette Corrigée. A third member of the same class, Saurin,
already twice mentioned, must be mentioned again, and still more
deservedly, for Les Mœurs du Temps. The best dramatists, however, among
the immediate followers of the Philosophes were Sedaine and Marmontel.
Sedaine is, indeed, with the possible exception of Beaumarchais, the best
dramatist of the last half of the century. Le Philosophe sans le Savoir, 1765,
and La Gageure Imprévue, 1768, are both admirable pieces. The author, like
many of his predecessors, was a constant worker for the Opéra Comique,
and one of the best of the class. Marmontel also adopted this line of
composition, to which the musical talent of Grétry gave, at the time, great
advantages. His best light dramatic work is a kind of comedy vaudeville,
the Ami de la Maison.
Beyond all doubt, however, the most remarkable, if not
the best, dramatist of the late eighteenth century is Beaumarchais.
Beaumarchais. Some critics have seen in the enormous
success of the Barbier de Séville, 1775, and the Mariage de Figaro, 1784,
nothing but a succès de circonstance connected with the political ideas
Page 434
which were then fermenting in men's minds. This seems to be unjust, or
rather it is unjust not to recognise something very like genius in the manner
in which the author has succeeded in shaping his subject, without choosing
a specially political one, so as to produce the effect acknowledged. The wit
of these two plays, moreover, is indisputable. But it may be allowed that
Beaumarchais' other productions are inferior, and that his Mémoires, which
are not dramatic at all, contain as much wit as the Figaro plays. As a satirist
of society and a contributor of illustrations to history, Beaumarchais must
always hold a very high place, higher perhaps than as an artist in literature.
Of his life, it is enough to say that he was born in 1731; became music
master to the daughters of Louis XV.; engaged in a law-suit, the subject of
the Mémoires, with some high legal functionaries; made a fortune by
speculating and by contracts in the American war, and lost it by further
speculations, one of which was the preparation of a sumptuous edition of
Voltaire. Besides the Figaro plays, his chief dramatic works are Eugénie,
Les Deux Amis, and lastly, La Mère Coupable, in which the characters of
his two famous works reappear.
After Beaumarchais, but few comic authors demand mention. Collin
d'Harleville, one of the pleasantest writers of light comedies in verse,
produced Les Châteaux en Espagne, L'Inconstant, L'Optimiste, and Le
Vieux Célibataire, 1792, all sparkling pieces, which only need freeing from
the restraints of rhyme. Andrieux, the author of Les Étourdis, 1787, Le
Trésor, Le Vieux Fat, and others, has something of the same character.
Nepomucène Lemercier distinguished himself in comedy, chiefly by Plaute,
in irregular verse, and by a comedy-drama, Pinto, in prose. These have his
usual characteristics of somewhat spasmodic genius. Fabre d'Eglantine, the
companion of Danton and Camille Desmoulins on the scaffold, is better
remembered for his death than for his life. But his Intrigue Epistolaire and
Philinte de Molière shew talent. Le Sourd, by Desforges, is an amusing
play.
It will be seen that the positive achievements of drama
during this period were considerably superior to those of Characteristics of
Eighteenth-century
poetry. The tragedies of Voltaire are prodigies of literary Drama.
cleverness. In comedy proper Lesage produced work of
enduring value; Destouches, Marivaux, Piron, Gresset, and some others,
work which does not require any very great indulgence to entitle it to the
rather it is unjust not to recognise something very like genius in the manner
in which the author has succeeded in shaping his subject, without choosing
a specially political one, so as to produce the effect acknowledged. The wit
of these two plays, moreover, is indisputable. But it may be allowed that
Beaumarchais' other productions are inferior, and that his Mémoires, which
are not dramatic at all, contain as much wit as the Figaro plays. As a satirist
of society and a contributor of illustrations to history, Beaumarchais must
always hold a very high place, higher perhaps than as an artist in literature.
Of his life, it is enough to say that he was born in 1731; became music
master to the daughters of Louis XV.; engaged in a law-suit, the subject of
the Mémoires, with some high legal functionaries; made a fortune by
speculating and by contracts in the American war, and lost it by further
speculations, one of which was the preparation of a sumptuous edition of
Voltaire. Besides the Figaro plays, his chief dramatic works are Eugénie,
Les Deux Amis, and lastly, La Mère Coupable, in which the characters of
his two famous works reappear.
After Beaumarchais, but few comic authors demand mention. Collin
d'Harleville, one of the pleasantest writers of light comedies in verse,
produced Les Châteaux en Espagne, L'Inconstant, L'Optimiste, and Le
Vieux Célibataire, 1792, all sparkling pieces, which only need freeing from
the restraints of rhyme. Andrieux, the author of Les Étourdis, 1787, Le
Trésor, Le Vieux Fat, and others, has something of the same character.
Nepomucène Lemercier distinguished himself in comedy, chiefly by Plaute,
in irregular verse, and by a comedy-drama, Pinto, in prose. These have his
usual characteristics of somewhat spasmodic genius. Fabre d'Eglantine, the
companion of Danton and Camille Desmoulins on the scaffold, is better
remembered for his death than for his life. But his Intrigue Epistolaire and
Philinte de Molière shew talent. Le Sourd, by Desforges, is an amusing
play.
It will be seen that the positive achievements of drama
during this period were considerably superior to those of Characteristics of
Eighteenth-century
poetry. The tragedies of Voltaire are prodigies of literary Drama.
cleverness. In comedy proper Lesage produced work of
enduring value; Destouches, Marivaux, Piron, Gresset, and some others,
work which does not require any very great indulgence to entitle it to the
Page 435
name, in the right sense, of classical; Beaumarchais, work which is
indissolubly connected with great historical events, and which is not
unworthy the connection. Moreover, as a matter of general literary history,
the drama during this time displays numerous evidences of life and
promise, as well as of decadence. The gradual recognition of the vaudeville
as a separate literary kind gave occasion to much work, the ephemeral
character of which should not be allowed to obscure its real literary
excellence, and founded a school which is still living and flourishing with
by no means simulated life. The attempt of La Chaussée and Diderot to
widen the range and break down the barriers of legitimate drama was
premature, and not altogether well directed; but it was the forerunner of the
great and durable reaction of nearly a century later. Still the actual dramatic
accomplishment of this period, though in many ways interesting, and to a
certain extent positively valuable, is not of the first class. It is made up
either of clever imitations and variations of modes which had already been
expressed with greater perfection, and with far greater genius, by the
preceding century, or of what may be fairly called dramatic pamphleteering,
or else of tentative and immature experiments in reform, which came to
nothing, or to very little, for the time being. Even its most gifted
practitioners regarded it as a kind of journey-work, which was understood
to lead to honour and profit, rather than as an art, in which honour and
profit, if not entirely to be ignored, are altogether secondary considerations.
Hence, in a lesser degree, the drama of the eighteenth century shares the
same disadvantage which has been noted as characterising its poetry. Its
value is a value of curiosity chiefly, a relative value. Indeed, as a mere
mechanical art, drama sank even lower than poetry proper ever sank; and
for fifty years at least before the romantic revival it may be doubted
whether a single play was written, the destruction of which need greatly
grieve even the most sensitive and appreciative student of French literary
history.
indissolubly connected with great historical events, and which is not
unworthy the connection. Moreover, as a matter of general literary history,
the drama during this time displays numerous evidences of life and
promise, as well as of decadence. The gradual recognition of the vaudeville
as a separate literary kind gave occasion to much work, the ephemeral
character of which should not be allowed to obscure its real literary
excellence, and founded a school which is still living and flourishing with
by no means simulated life. The attempt of La Chaussée and Diderot to
widen the range and break down the barriers of legitimate drama was
premature, and not altogether well directed; but it was the forerunner of the
great and durable reaction of nearly a century later. Still the actual dramatic
accomplishment of this period, though in many ways interesting, and to a
certain extent positively valuable, is not of the first class. It is made up
either of clever imitations and variations of modes which had already been
expressed with greater perfection, and with far greater genius, by the
preceding century, or of what may be fairly called dramatic pamphleteering,
or else of tentative and immature experiments in reform, which came to
nothing, or to very little, for the time being. Even its most gifted
practitioners regarded it as a kind of journey-work, which was understood
to lead to honour and profit, rather than as an art, in which honour and
profit, if not entirely to be ignored, are altogether secondary considerations.
Hence, in a lesser degree, the drama of the eighteenth century shares the
same disadvantage which has been noted as characterising its poetry. Its
value is a value of curiosity chiefly, a relative value. Indeed, as a mere
mechanical art, drama sank even lower than poetry proper ever sank; and
for fifty years at least before the romantic revival it may be doubted
whether a single play was written, the destruction of which need greatly
grieve even the most sensitive and appreciative student of French literary
history.
Page 436
CHAPTER III.
NOVELISTS.
The peculiarity of the eighteenth century in France as regards literature——
that is to say, the application of great talents to almost every branch of
literary production without the result of a distinct original growth in any
one department——is nowhere more noticeable than in the department of
prose fiction[288]. The names of Lesage, Prévost, Marivaux, Voltaire,
Rousseau, are deservedly recorded among the list of the best novel writers.
Yet, with the exception of Manon Lescaut, which for the time had no
imitators, of the great works of Lesage which, admirable in execution, were
by no means original in conception, and of the exquisite but comparatively
insignificant variety of the prose Conte, of which Voltaire was the chief
practitioner, nothing in the nature of a masterpiece, still less anything in the
nature of an epoch-making work, was composed. The example of Manon
was left for the nineteenth century to develop, the others either died out (the
adventure romance, after Lesage's model, flourishing brilliantly in England,
but hardly at all in France), or else were subordinated to a purpose, the
purpose of advocating philosophe views, or of pandering to the not very
healthy cravings of an altogether artificial society. Yet, so far as merely
literary merits are concerned, few branches of literature were more fertile
than this during the period.
The first, and on the whole, the most considerable name
of the century in fiction is that of the author of Gil Blas. Lesage.
Alain René Lesage was born at Sarzeau, near Vannes, on
the 8th of May, 1668, and died at Boulogne on the 17th of November, 1747.
He was bred a lawyer, and should have had a fair competence, but, being
early left an orphan, was deprived of most of his property by the dishonesty
of his guardian. He married young, moreover, and, unlike most of the
prominent men of letters of his day, never seems to have enjoyed any solid
patronage or protection from any powerful man or woman. This is indeed
sufficiently accounted for by anecdotes which exist showing his extreme
NOVELISTS.
The peculiarity of the eighteenth century in France as regards literature——
that is to say, the application of great talents to almost every branch of
literary production without the result of a distinct original growth in any
one department——is nowhere more noticeable than in the department of
prose fiction[288]. The names of Lesage, Prévost, Marivaux, Voltaire,
Rousseau, are deservedly recorded among the list of the best novel writers.
Yet, with the exception of Manon Lescaut, which for the time had no
imitators, of the great works of Lesage which, admirable in execution, were
by no means original in conception, and of the exquisite but comparatively
insignificant variety of the prose Conte, of which Voltaire was the chief
practitioner, nothing in the nature of a masterpiece, still less anything in the
nature of an epoch-making work, was composed. The example of Manon
was left for the nineteenth century to develop, the others either died out (the
adventure romance, after Lesage's model, flourishing brilliantly in England,
but hardly at all in France), or else were subordinated to a purpose, the
purpose of advocating philosophe views, or of pandering to the not very
healthy cravings of an altogether artificial society. Yet, so far as merely
literary merits are concerned, few branches of literature were more fertile
than this during the period.
The first, and on the whole, the most considerable name
of the century in fiction is that of the author of Gil Blas. Lesage.
Alain René Lesage was born at Sarzeau, near Vannes, on
the 8th of May, 1668, and died at Boulogne on the 17th of November, 1747.
He was bred a lawyer, and should have had a fair competence, but, being
early left an orphan, was deprived of most of his property by the dishonesty
of his guardian. He married young, moreover, and, unlike most of the
prominent men of letters of his day, never seems to have enjoyed any solid
patronage or protection from any powerful man or woman. This is indeed
sufficiently accounted for by anecdotes which exist showing his extreme
Page 437
independence of character. Like most men of talent in such circumstances,
he turned, though not very early, to literature, and began by a translation of
the 'Letters' of Aristaenetus. No great success could have awaited him in
this line, and perhaps the greatest stroke of good-fortune in his life was the
suggestion of the Abbé de Lyonne that he should turn his attention to
Spanish literature, a suggestion which was not made more unpalatable by
the present of a small annuity. He translated the 'New Don Quixote' of
Avellaneda (than which he might have found a better subject), and he
adapted freely plays from Rojas, Lope de Vega, and Calderon. It was not,
however, till he was nearly forty that he produced anything of real merit.
The Diable Boiteux appeared in 1707, and was at once popular. Still Lesage
did not desert the stage, and the production of his admirable comedy
Turcaret ought to have secured him success there. But the Comédie
Française was at that time more under the influence of clique than at any
other time of its history; and Lesage, disgusted with the treatment he
received from it, gave himself up entirely to writing farces and operettas for
the minor theatres, and to prose fiction. Gil Blas, his greatest work,
originally appeared in 1715, but was not completed till twenty years later.
He also wrote—besides one or two bright but trifling minor works of a
fictitious character, La Valise Trouvée (a letter-bag supposed to be picked
up), Une Journée des Parques, a keen piece of Lucianic satire, etc.—many
other romances in the same general style as his great works, and more or
less borrowed from Spanish originals. The chief of these are Guzman
d'Alfarache, Estévanille Gonzalez, Le Bachelier de Salamanque, and a
curious Defoe-like book entitled Vie et Aventures de M. de Beauchéne. In
his old age he retired to the house of his second son, who held a canonry at
Boulogne, and resided there for some years, until, in 1747, he died in his
eightieth year. His works have hitherto been very insufficiently collected
and edited.
Le Diable Boiteux and Gil Blas are far the greatest of Lesage's romances,
and, as it happens, they are the most original, little except the starting-point
being borrowed in the one case, and nothing but a few detached details in
the other. Lesage was, however, true to the general spirit of his model, the
picaroon romance of Spain, a kind of Roman d'Aventures transported from
the days and conventional conditions of chivalry to those of ordinary but
still adventurous life in the Peninsula. The directly satirical intention
he turned, though not very early, to literature, and began by a translation of
the 'Letters' of Aristaenetus. No great success could have awaited him in
this line, and perhaps the greatest stroke of good-fortune in his life was the
suggestion of the Abbé de Lyonne that he should turn his attention to
Spanish literature, a suggestion which was not made more unpalatable by
the present of a small annuity. He translated the 'New Don Quixote' of
Avellaneda (than which he might have found a better subject), and he
adapted freely plays from Rojas, Lope de Vega, and Calderon. It was not,
however, till he was nearly forty that he produced anything of real merit.
The Diable Boiteux appeared in 1707, and was at once popular. Still Lesage
did not desert the stage, and the production of his admirable comedy
Turcaret ought to have secured him success there. But the Comédie
Française was at that time more under the influence of clique than at any
other time of its history; and Lesage, disgusted with the treatment he
received from it, gave himself up entirely to writing farces and operettas for
the minor theatres, and to prose fiction. Gil Blas, his greatest work,
originally appeared in 1715, but was not completed till twenty years later.
He also wrote—besides one or two bright but trifling minor works of a
fictitious character, La Valise Trouvée (a letter-bag supposed to be picked
up), Une Journée des Parques, a keen piece of Lucianic satire, etc.—many
other romances in the same general style as his great works, and more or
less borrowed from Spanish originals. The chief of these are Guzman
d'Alfarache, Estévanille Gonzalez, Le Bachelier de Salamanque, and a
curious Defoe-like book entitled Vie et Aventures de M. de Beauchéne. In
his old age he retired to the house of his second son, who held a canonry at
Boulogne, and resided there for some years, until, in 1747, he died in his
eightieth year. His works have hitherto been very insufficiently collected
and edited.
Le Diable Boiteux and Gil Blas are far the greatest of Lesage's romances,
and, as it happens, they are the most original, little except the starting-point
being borrowed in the one case, and nothing but a few detached details in
the other. Lesage was, however, true to the general spirit of his model, the
picaroon romance of Spain, a kind of Roman d'Aventures transported from
the days and conventional conditions of chivalry to those of ordinary but
still adventurous life in the Peninsula. The directly satirical intention
Page 438
predominates in the Diable Boiteux, the more purely narrative faculty in Gil
Blas. In both the piercing observation of human character, which Lesage
possessed in a greater degree perhaps than any other French writer, appears,
and so does his remarkable power of making the results of this observation
live and move. No French writer is so little of a mere Frenchman as Lesage,
and in this point of cosmopolitan humanity he may be compared, without
extravagance, in kind if not in degree, to Shakespeare. Besides his skill in
character-drawing, and his faculty of spicing his narrative with epigram,
Lesage also possessed extraordinary narrative ability. His books are not
remarkable for what is called plot, that is to say, the action rather continues
indefinitely in a straight line than converges on a given and definite point.
But this continuance is so adroitly managed that no break is felt, and the
succession very seldom becomes tedious. The novel of Lesage is the
immediate parent and pattern of that of Fielding and Smollett in England. It
is somewhat remarkable that it had no successors of importance or merit in
France. This is probably to be accounted for by the cosmopolitan tone
which has been already remarked upon. Indeed Lesage, as a rule, has had
less justice done to him by his countrymen than any other of their great
writers. Yet his style, looked at merely from the point of view of art, is
excellent, and perhaps superior to that of any of his contemporaries
properly so called.
Close in the track of Madame de la Fayette followed Madame de Fontaines
(Marie Louise Charlotte de Givri), the date of whose birth is unknown, but
who died in 1730. She was a friend of Voltaire's youth, and her best work is
named La Comtesse de Savoie, the date of the story being the eleventh
century. She also wrote a short story of less merit called Aménophis.
Madame de Tencin (Claudine Alexandrine Guérin), the mother of
D'Alembert, the friend of Fontenelle, and one of the most famous salon-
holders of the early eighteenth century, was a more fertile and a cleverer
writer. She was born in 1681, and died in 1749. She had a bad heart, but an
excellent head, and she showed her powers in the Mémoires du Comte de
Comminges and the Siége de Calais, besides some minor works. The fault
of almost all romances of the La Fayette school, the habit of throwing the
scene into periods about which the writers knew nothing, appears in these
works.
Blas. In both the piercing observation of human character, which Lesage
possessed in a greater degree perhaps than any other French writer, appears,
and so does his remarkable power of making the results of this observation
live and move. No French writer is so little of a mere Frenchman as Lesage,
and in this point of cosmopolitan humanity he may be compared, without
extravagance, in kind if not in degree, to Shakespeare. Besides his skill in
character-drawing, and his faculty of spicing his narrative with epigram,
Lesage also possessed extraordinary narrative ability. His books are not
remarkable for what is called plot, that is to say, the action rather continues
indefinitely in a straight line than converges on a given and definite point.
But this continuance is so adroitly managed that no break is felt, and the
succession very seldom becomes tedious. The novel of Lesage is the
immediate parent and pattern of that of Fielding and Smollett in England. It
is somewhat remarkable that it had no successors of importance or merit in
France. This is probably to be accounted for by the cosmopolitan tone
which has been already remarked upon. Indeed Lesage, as a rule, has had
less justice done to him by his countrymen than any other of their great
writers. Yet his style, looked at merely from the point of view of art, is
excellent, and perhaps superior to that of any of his contemporaries
properly so called.
Close in the track of Madame de la Fayette followed Madame de Fontaines
(Marie Louise Charlotte de Givri), the date of whose birth is unknown, but
who died in 1730. She was a friend of Voltaire's youth, and her best work is
named La Comtesse de Savoie, the date of the story being the eleventh
century. She also wrote a short story of less merit called Aménophis.
Madame de Tencin (Claudine Alexandrine Guérin), the mother of
D'Alembert, the friend of Fontenelle, and one of the most famous salon-
holders of the early eighteenth century, was a more fertile and a cleverer
writer. She was born in 1681, and died in 1749. She had a bad heart, but an
excellent head, and she showed her powers in the Mémoires du Comte de
Comminges and the Siége de Calais, besides some minor works. The fault
of almost all romances of the La Fayette school, the habit of throwing the
scene into periods about which the writers knew nothing, appears in these
works.
Page 439
But the first writer of fiction after Lesage who is worthy
of separate mention at any length (for in these later Marivaux.
centuries of our history there are, as any reader of books
will understand, vast numbers of practitioners in every branch of literary art
who are entirely unworthy of notice in a compendious history of literature)
is Marivaux, an original and remarkable novelist, who, though by no
possibility to be ranked among the great names of French literature,
occupies a not inconsiderable place among those who are remarkable
without being great. Pierre Carlet de Marivaux, whose strict paternal
appellation was simply Pierre Carlet, was born at Paris on the 8th of
February, 1688. His father was of Norman origin, and held employments in
the financial branch of the public service. Very little is known of the son's
youth, and indeed not much of his life. He is said to have produced his first
play, Le Père Prudent et Equitable, at the age of eighteen, and his dramatic
industry was thenceforward considerable. As a romancer he worked more
by fits and starts. His first attempt at prose fiction is said to have been—for
the authenticity of the attribution is not certain—a romance in a kind of
pseudo-Spanish style, called Les Effets surprenants de la Sympathie,
published six years later. Then he took to the sterile and ignoble literature of
travesty, attacking Homer and Fénelon in the style of Scarron and Cotton.
This brought him, through La Motte, under the influence of Fontenelle, to
whom he owed not a little. He made a fortune and lost it in Law's bubble.
Then he turned journalist, and after writing social articles in the Mercure,
started a periodical himself, the nature of which is sufficiently shown by its
borrowed title, Le Spectateur Français, 1722. At a later period he began
another paper of the same kind, Le Cabinet du Philosophe, 1734. His plays,
which have been already noticed, were written partly for the Comédie
Française, and partly for a very popular Italian company which appeared in
France during the second quarter of the century. But for the present purpose
his works which concern us are the famous romance of Marianne, 1731-
1742, and the less-known one of the Paysan Parvenu, 1735. His dramas,
rather than his fictions, procured him a place in the Academy in 1742, and
he died in 1763.
Marianne has been said to be the origin of Pamela, which may not be
exactly the fact, though it is difficult not to believe that it gave Richardson
his idea. But it is certain that it is a remarkable novel, and that it, rather than
of separate mention at any length (for in these later Marivaux.
centuries of our history there are, as any reader of books
will understand, vast numbers of practitioners in every branch of literary art
who are entirely unworthy of notice in a compendious history of literature)
is Marivaux, an original and remarkable novelist, who, though by no
possibility to be ranked among the great names of French literature,
occupies a not inconsiderable place among those who are remarkable
without being great. Pierre Carlet de Marivaux, whose strict paternal
appellation was simply Pierre Carlet, was born at Paris on the 8th of
February, 1688. His father was of Norman origin, and held employments in
the financial branch of the public service. Very little is known of the son's
youth, and indeed not much of his life. He is said to have produced his first
play, Le Père Prudent et Equitable, at the age of eighteen, and his dramatic
industry was thenceforward considerable. As a romancer he worked more
by fits and starts. His first attempt at prose fiction is said to have been—for
the authenticity of the attribution is not certain—a romance in a kind of
pseudo-Spanish style, called Les Effets surprenants de la Sympathie,
published six years later. Then he took to the sterile and ignoble literature of
travesty, attacking Homer and Fénelon in the style of Scarron and Cotton.
This brought him, through La Motte, under the influence of Fontenelle, to
whom he owed not a little. He made a fortune and lost it in Law's bubble.
Then he turned journalist, and after writing social articles in the Mercure,
started a periodical himself, the nature of which is sufficiently shown by its
borrowed title, Le Spectateur Français, 1722. At a later period he began
another paper of the same kind, Le Cabinet du Philosophe, 1734. His plays,
which have been already noticed, were written partly for the Comédie
Française, and partly for a very popular Italian company which appeared in
France during the second quarter of the century. But for the present purpose
his works which concern us are the famous romance of Marianne, 1731-
1742, and the less-known one of the Paysan Parvenu, 1735. His dramas,
rather than his fictions, procured him a place in the Academy in 1742, and
he died in 1763.
Marianne has been said to be the origin of Pamela, which may not be
exactly the fact, though it is difficult not to believe that it gave Richardson
his idea. But it is certain that it is a remarkable novel, and that it, rather than
Page 440
the plays, gave rise to the singular phrase Marivaudage, with which the
author, not at all voluntarily, has enriched literature. The plot is simple
enough. A poor but virtuous girl has adventures and recounts them, and the
manner of recounting is extremely original. A morally faulty but
intellectually admirable contemporary, Crébillon the younger, described this
manner excellently by saying that the characters not only say everything
that they have done and everything that they have thought, but everything
that they would have liked to think but did not. This curious kind of mental
analysis is expressed in a style which cannot be defended from the charge
of affectation notwithstanding its extreme ingenuity and occasional wit. The
real importance of Marianne in the history of fiction is that it is the first
example of the novel of analysis rather than of incident (though incident is
still prominent), and the first in which an elaborate style, strongly imbued
with mannerism, is applied to this purpose. The Paysan Parvenu, the title of
which suggested Restif's novel Le Paysan Perverti, and which was
probably not without influence on Joseph Andrews, is not very different in
manner from Marianne, and, like it, was left unfinished after publication in
parts at long intervals.
A third eminent writer of novels was, in point of
production, a contemporary of Lesage and Marivaux, Prévost
though he was nearly thirty years younger than the first,
and fully ten years younger than the second, and he more than either of
them set the example of the modern novel. The Abbé Prévost, sometimes
called Prévost d'Exilles, was born at Hesdin, in Picardy, in April, 1697. He
was brought up by the Jesuits, and after a curious hesitation between
entering the order and becoming a soldier (he actually served for some
time) he joined the famous community of the Benedictines of Saint Maur,
the most learned monastic body in the Roman church. When he did this he
was four-and-twenty, and he continued for some six years to give himself
up to study, not without interludes of professorial work and of preaching.
He became, however, disgusted with his order, and unfortunately left his
convent before technical permission had been given; a proceeding which
kept him an exile from France for several years. It was at this time (1728)
that he threw himself into novel-writing, taking his models, and in some
cases, his scenes and characters, from England, which he visited, and of
which he was a fervent admirer. He obtained permission to return in 1735,
author, not at all voluntarily, has enriched literature. The plot is simple
enough. A poor but virtuous girl has adventures and recounts them, and the
manner of recounting is extremely original. A morally faulty but
intellectually admirable contemporary, Crébillon the younger, described this
manner excellently by saying that the characters not only say everything
that they have done and everything that they have thought, but everything
that they would have liked to think but did not. This curious kind of mental
analysis is expressed in a style which cannot be defended from the charge
of affectation notwithstanding its extreme ingenuity and occasional wit. The
real importance of Marianne in the history of fiction is that it is the first
example of the novel of analysis rather than of incident (though incident is
still prominent), and the first in which an elaborate style, strongly imbued
with mannerism, is applied to this purpose. The Paysan Parvenu, the title of
which suggested Restif's novel Le Paysan Perverti, and which was
probably not without influence on Joseph Andrews, is not very different in
manner from Marianne, and, like it, was left unfinished after publication in
parts at long intervals.
A third eminent writer of novels was, in point of
production, a contemporary of Lesage and Marivaux, Prévost
though he was nearly thirty years younger than the first,
and fully ten years younger than the second, and he more than either of
them set the example of the modern novel. The Abbé Prévost, sometimes
called Prévost d'Exilles, was born at Hesdin, in Picardy, in April, 1697. He
was brought up by the Jesuits, and after a curious hesitation between
entering the order and becoming a soldier (he actually served for some
time) he joined the famous community of the Benedictines of Saint Maur,
the most learned monastic body in the Roman church. When he did this he
was four-and-twenty, and he continued for some six years to give himself
up to study, not without interludes of professorial work and of preaching.
He became, however, disgusted with his order, and unfortunately left his
convent before technical permission had been given; a proceeding which
kept him an exile from France for several years. It was at this time (1728)
that he threw himself into novel-writing, taking his models, and in some
cases, his scenes and characters, from England, which he visited, and of
which he was a fervent admirer. He obtained permission to return in 1735,
Page 441
and then started a paper called Le Pour et le Contre, something like those of
Marivaux, but more like a modern critical review. He received the
protection of several persons of position and influence, notably the Prince
de Conti and the Chancellor D'Aguesseau, and for nearly thirty years led a
laborious literary life, in the course of which he is said to have written
nearly a hundred volumes, mostly compilations. His death, which occurred
in November, 1763, was perhaps the most horrible in literary history. He
was on his way from Paris to his cottage near Chantilly, when he was struck
by apoplexy. A stupid village doctor took him for dead, and began a post-
mortem examination to discover the cause. Prévost revived at the stroke of
the knife, but was so injured by it that he expired shortly afterwards.
His chief works of fiction are the Mémoires d'un Homme de Qualité, 1729,
Clèveland, and the Doyen de Killérine, 1735, romances of adventure
occupying a middle place between those of Lesage and Marivaux. But he
would have been long forgotten had it not been for an episode or rather
postscript of the Mémoires entitled Manon Lescaut, in which all competent
criticism recognises the first masterpiece of French literature which can
properly be called a novel. Manon is a young girl with whom the Chevalier
des Grieux, almost as young as herself, falls frantically in love. The pair fly
to Paris, and the novel is occupied with the description of Manon's
faithlessness—a faithlessness based not on want of love for Des Grieux, but
on an overmastering desire for luxury and comfort with which he cannot
always supply her. The story, which is narrated by Des Grieux, and which
has a most pathetic ending, is chiefly remarkable for the perfect simplicity
and absolute life-likeness of the character-drawing. The despairing
constancy of Des Grieux, conscious of the vileness of his idol, yet unable to
help loving her, the sober goodness of his friend Tiberge, the roystering
villany of Manon's brother Lescaut, and, above all, the surprising and novel,
but strictly practical and reasonable, figure of Manon, who, in her way,
loves Des Grieux, who has no objection to deceive her richer lovers for
him, but whose first craving is for material well-being and prosperity—
make up a gallery which has rarely been exceeded in power and interest.
A novelist of merit, slightly junior to these, was Madame Riccoboni (Marie
Jeanne Laboras de Mézières), who was born in 1713, married an actor and
dramatic author of little talent, and died at a great age in 1792. Her best
works of fiction are Le Marquis de Cressy, Mylady Catesby, and Ernestine,
Marivaux, but more like a modern critical review. He received the
protection of several persons of position and influence, notably the Prince
de Conti and the Chancellor D'Aguesseau, and for nearly thirty years led a
laborious literary life, in the course of which he is said to have written
nearly a hundred volumes, mostly compilations. His death, which occurred
in November, 1763, was perhaps the most horrible in literary history. He
was on his way from Paris to his cottage near Chantilly, when he was struck
by apoplexy. A stupid village doctor took him for dead, and began a post-
mortem examination to discover the cause. Prévost revived at the stroke of
the knife, but was so injured by it that he expired shortly afterwards.
His chief works of fiction are the Mémoires d'un Homme de Qualité, 1729,
Clèveland, and the Doyen de Killérine, 1735, romances of adventure
occupying a middle place between those of Lesage and Marivaux. But he
would have been long forgotten had it not been for an episode or rather
postscript of the Mémoires entitled Manon Lescaut, in which all competent
criticism recognises the first masterpiece of French literature which can
properly be called a novel. Manon is a young girl with whom the Chevalier
des Grieux, almost as young as herself, falls frantically in love. The pair fly
to Paris, and the novel is occupied with the description of Manon's
faithlessness—a faithlessness based not on want of love for Des Grieux, but
on an overmastering desire for luxury and comfort with which he cannot
always supply her. The story, which is narrated by Des Grieux, and which
has a most pathetic ending, is chiefly remarkable for the perfect simplicity
and absolute life-likeness of the character-drawing. The despairing
constancy of Des Grieux, conscious of the vileness of his idol, yet unable to
help loving her, the sober goodness of his friend Tiberge, the roystering
villany of Manon's brother Lescaut, and, above all, the surprising and novel,
but strictly practical and reasonable, figure of Manon, who, in her way,
loves Des Grieux, who has no objection to deceive her richer lovers for
him, but whose first craving is for material well-being and prosperity—
make up a gallery which has rarely been exceeded in power and interest.
A novelist of merit, slightly junior to these, was Madame Riccoboni (Marie
Jeanne Laboras de Mézières), who was born in 1713, married an actor and
dramatic author of little talent, and died at a great age in 1792. Her best
works of fiction are Le Marquis de Cressy, Mylady Catesby, and Ernestine,
Page 442
with an exceedingly clever continuation (which, however, stops short of the
conclusion) of Marivaux' Marianne. All these books are constructed with
considerable skill, and are good examples of what may be called the
sentimental romance. Duclos, better known now for his historical and
historical-ethical work, was also a novel-writer at this period. The Lettres
du Marquis de Roselle, of Madame Elie de Beaumont, rather resembles the
work of Madame Riccoboni.
The works of the three principal writers who have just been discussed
belong to the first half of the century, and do not exhibit those
characteristics by which it is most generally known. Marivaux is indeed an
important representative of the laborious gallantry which descended from
the days of the précieuses—Fontenelle being a link between the two ages—
and Prévost exhibits, in at least its earlier stage, the sensibility which was
one of the great characteristics of the eighteenth century. But neither of
them can in the least be called a philosophe. On the other hand, the
philosophe movement, which dominated the middle and latter portions of
the age, was not long in invading the department of fiction. Each of the
three celebrated men who stood at its head devoted himself to the novel in
one or other of its forms; while Montesquieu, in the Lettres Persanes, came
near to it, and each of the trio themselves had more or fewer followers in
fiction.
No long work of prose fiction stands under the name of
Voltaire, but it may be doubted whether any of his works Voltaire.
displays his peculiar genius more fully and more
characteristically than the short tales in prose which he has left. Every one
of them has a moral, political, social, or theological purpose. Zadig, 1748,
is, perhaps, in its general aim, rather philosophical in the proper sense;
Babouc, 1746, social; Memnon, 1747, ethical. Micromegas, 1752, is a satire
on certain forms of science; the group of smaller tales, such as Le Taureau
Blanc, are theological or rather anti-theological. L'Ingénu, 1767, and
L'Homme aux Quarante Écus (same date), are political from different
points of view. All these objects meet and unite in the most famous and
most daring of all, Candide, 1758. Written ostensibly to ridicule
philosophical optimism, and on the spur given to pessimist theories by the
Lisbon earthquake, Candide is really as comprehensive as it is desultory.
Religion, political government, national peculiarities, human weakness,
conclusion) of Marivaux' Marianne. All these books are constructed with
considerable skill, and are good examples of what may be called the
sentimental romance. Duclos, better known now for his historical and
historical-ethical work, was also a novel-writer at this period. The Lettres
du Marquis de Roselle, of Madame Elie de Beaumont, rather resembles the
work of Madame Riccoboni.
The works of the three principal writers who have just been discussed
belong to the first half of the century, and do not exhibit those
characteristics by which it is most generally known. Marivaux is indeed an
important representative of the laborious gallantry which descended from
the days of the précieuses—Fontenelle being a link between the two ages—
and Prévost exhibits, in at least its earlier stage, the sensibility which was
one of the great characteristics of the eighteenth century. But neither of
them can in the least be called a philosophe. On the other hand, the
philosophe movement, which dominated the middle and latter portions of
the age, was not long in invading the department of fiction. Each of the
three celebrated men who stood at its head devoted himself to the novel in
one or other of its forms; while Montesquieu, in the Lettres Persanes, came
near to it, and each of the trio themselves had more or fewer followers in
fiction.
No long work of prose fiction stands under the name of
Voltaire, but it may be doubted whether any of his works Voltaire.
displays his peculiar genius more fully and more
characteristically than the short tales in prose which he has left. Every one
of them has a moral, political, social, or theological purpose. Zadig, 1748,
is, perhaps, in its general aim, rather philosophical in the proper sense;
Babouc, 1746, social; Memnon, 1747, ethical. Micromegas, 1752, is a satire
on certain forms of science; the group of smaller tales, such as Le Taureau
Blanc, are theological or rather anti-theological. L'Ingénu, 1767, and
L'Homme aux Quarante Écus (same date), are political from different
points of view. All these objects meet and unite in the most famous and
most daring of all, Candide, 1758. Written ostensibly to ridicule
philosophical optimism, and on the spur given to pessimist theories by the
Lisbon earthquake, Candide is really as comprehensive as it is desultory.
Religion, political government, national peculiarities, human weakness,
Page 443
ambition, love, loyalty, all come in for the unfailing sneer. The moral,
wherever there is a moral, is, 'be tolerant, and cultivez votre jardin,' that is
to say, do whatsoever work you have to do diligently. But in all these tales
the destructive element has a good deal the better of the constructive. As
literature, however, they are almost invariably admirable. There is probably
no single book in existence which contains so much wit, pure and simple, as
the moderate sized octavo in which are comprised these two or three dozen
short stories, none of which exceeds a hundred pages or so in length, while
many do not extend beyond two or three. Nowhere is the capacity of the
French language for persiflage better shown, and nowhere, perhaps, are
more phrases which have become household words to be found. Nowhere
also, it is true, is the utter want of reverence, which was Voltaire's greatest
fault, and the absence of profundity, which accompanied his marvellous
superficial range and acuteness, more constantly displayed.
No inconsiderable portion of the extensive and unequal
work of Diderot is occupied by prose fiction. He began Diderot.
by a licentious tale in the manner, but without the wit, of
Crébillon the younger; a tale in which, save a little social satire, there was
no purpose whatever. But by degrees he, like Voltaire, began to use the
novel as a polemical weapon. The powerful story of La Religieuse, 1760,
was the boldest attack which, since the Reformation and the licence of Latin
writing, had been made on the drawbacks and dangers of conventual life.
Jacques le Fataliste, 1766, is a curious book, partly suggested, no doubt, by
Sterne, but having a legitimate French ancestry in the fatrasie of the
sixteenth century. Jacques is a manservant who travels with his master, has
adventures with him, talks incessantly to him, and tells him stories, as also
does another character, the mistress of a country inn. One of these stories,
the history of the jealousy and attempted revenge of a great lady on her
faithless lover by making him fall in love with a girl of no character, is
admirably told, and has often since been adapted in fiction and drama.
Other episodes of Jacques le Fataliste are good, but the whole is unequal.
The strangest of all Diderot's attempts in prose fiction—if it is to be called a
fiction and not a dramatic study—is the so-called Neveu de Rameau, in
which, in the guise of a dialogue between himself and a hanger-on of
society (or rather a monologue of the latter), the follies and vices, not
wherever there is a moral, is, 'be tolerant, and cultivez votre jardin,' that is
to say, do whatsoever work you have to do diligently. But in all these tales
the destructive element has a good deal the better of the constructive. As
literature, however, they are almost invariably admirable. There is probably
no single book in existence which contains so much wit, pure and simple, as
the moderate sized octavo in which are comprised these two or three dozen
short stories, none of which exceeds a hundred pages or so in length, while
many do not extend beyond two or three. Nowhere is the capacity of the
French language for persiflage better shown, and nowhere, perhaps, are
more phrases which have become household words to be found. Nowhere
also, it is true, is the utter want of reverence, which was Voltaire's greatest
fault, and the absence of profundity, which accompanied his marvellous
superficial range and acuteness, more constantly displayed.
No inconsiderable portion of the extensive and unequal
work of Diderot is occupied by prose fiction. He began Diderot.
by a licentious tale in the manner, but without the wit, of
Crébillon the younger; a tale in which, save a little social satire, there was
no purpose whatever. But by degrees he, like Voltaire, began to use the
novel as a polemical weapon. The powerful story of La Religieuse, 1760,
was the boldest attack which, since the Reformation and the licence of Latin
writing, had been made on the drawbacks and dangers of conventual life.
Jacques le Fataliste, 1766, is a curious book, partly suggested, no doubt, by
Sterne, but having a legitimate French ancestry in the fatrasie of the
sixteenth century. Jacques is a manservant who travels with his master, has
adventures with him, talks incessantly to him, and tells him stories, as also
does another character, the mistress of a country inn. One of these stories,
the history of the jealousy and attempted revenge of a great lady on her
faithless lover by making him fall in love with a girl of no character, is
admirably told, and has often since been adapted in fiction and drama.
Other episodes of Jacques le Fataliste are good, but the whole is unequal.
The strangest of all Diderot's attempts in prose fiction—if it is to be called a
fiction and not a dramatic study—is the so-called Neveu de Rameau, in
which, in the guise of a dialogue between himself and a hanger-on of
society (or rather a monologue of the latter), the follies and vices, not
Page 444
merely of the time, but of human nature itself, are exposed with a masterly
hand, and in a manner wonderfully original and piquant.
Neither Voltaire, however, nor Diderot devoted, in
proportion to their other work, as much attention to Rousseau.
prose fiction as did Jean Jacques Rousseau. Even the
Confessions might be classed under this head without a Crébillon the
great violation of propriety, and Rousseau's only other Younger.
large books, La Nouvelle Héloïse, 1760, and Emile, 1764, are avowed
novels. In both of these the didactic purpose asserts itself. In the latter,
indeed, it asserts itself to a degree sufficient seriously to impair the literary
merit of the story. The second title of Emile is L'Education, and it is devoted
to the unfolding of Rousseau's views on that subject by the aid of an actual
example in Emile the hero. It had a great vogue and a very considerable
practical influence, nor can the race of novels with political or ethical
purposes be said to have ever died out since. As a novel, properly so called,
it has but little merit. The case is different with Julie or La Nouvelle
Héloïse. This is a story told chiefly in the form of letters, and recounting the
love of a noble young lady, Julie, for Saint Preux, a man of low rank, with a
kind of afterpiece, depicting Julie's married life with a respectable but
prosaic free-thinker, M. de Wolmar. This famous book set the example,
first, of the novel of sentiment, secondly, of the novel of landscape painting.
Many efforts have been made to dethrone Rousseau from his position of
teacher of Europe in point of sentiment and the picturesque, but they have
had no real success. It is to La Nouvelle Héloïse that both sentimental and
picturesque fictions fairly owe their original popularity; yet Julie cannot be
called a good novel. Its direct narrative interest is but small, its characters
are too intensely drawn or else too merely conventional, its plot far too
meagre. It is in isolated passages of description, and in the fervent passion
which pervades parts of it, that its value, and at the same time its
importance in the history of novel-writing, consist.
Some lesser names group themselves naturally round those of the greater
Philosophes in the department of prose fiction. Voltaire's style was largely
followed, but scarcely from Voltaire's point of view, and those who
practised it fell rather under the head of Conteurs pure and simple than of
novelists with a purpose. The prose Conte of the eighteenth century forms a
remarkable branch of literature, redeemed from triviality by the exceptional
hand, and in a manner wonderfully original and piquant.
Neither Voltaire, however, nor Diderot devoted, in
proportion to their other work, as much attention to Rousseau.
prose fiction as did Jean Jacques Rousseau. Even the
Confessions might be classed under this head without a Crébillon the
great violation of propriety, and Rousseau's only other Younger.
large books, La Nouvelle Héloïse, 1760, and Emile, 1764, are avowed
novels. In both of these the didactic purpose asserts itself. In the latter,
indeed, it asserts itself to a degree sufficient seriously to impair the literary
merit of the story. The second title of Emile is L'Education, and it is devoted
to the unfolding of Rousseau's views on that subject by the aid of an actual
example in Emile the hero. It had a great vogue and a very considerable
practical influence, nor can the race of novels with political or ethical
purposes be said to have ever died out since. As a novel, properly so called,
it has but little merit. The case is different with Julie or La Nouvelle
Héloïse. This is a story told chiefly in the form of letters, and recounting the
love of a noble young lady, Julie, for Saint Preux, a man of low rank, with a
kind of afterpiece, depicting Julie's married life with a respectable but
prosaic free-thinker, M. de Wolmar. This famous book set the example,
first, of the novel of sentiment, secondly, of the novel of landscape painting.
Many efforts have been made to dethrone Rousseau from his position of
teacher of Europe in point of sentiment and the picturesque, but they have
had no real success. It is to La Nouvelle Héloïse that both sentimental and
picturesque fictions fairly owe their original popularity; yet Julie cannot be
called a good novel. Its direct narrative interest is but small, its characters
are too intensely drawn or else too merely conventional, its plot far too
meagre. It is in isolated passages of description, and in the fervent passion
which pervades parts of it, that its value, and at the same time its
importance in the history of novel-writing, consist.
Some lesser names group themselves naturally round those of the greater
Philosophes in the department of prose fiction. Voltaire's style was largely
followed, but scarcely from Voltaire's point of view, and those who
practised it fell rather under the head of Conteurs pure and simple than of
novelists with a purpose. The prose Conte of the eighteenth century forms a
remarkable branch of literature, redeemed from triviality by the exceptional
Page 445
skill expended on it. The master of the style was Crébillon the younger, in
whom its merits and defects were both eminently present. Son of the tragic
author, Crébillon led an easy but a rather mysterious life, married an
Englishwoman, and was supposed by his friends to be dead long before he
had actually quitted this world. His works, of which it is unnecessary to
mention the names here, exhibit the moral corruption of the times in almost
the highest possible degree. But they abound in keen social satire, in acute
literary criticism, and in verbal wit. What is more, they show an
extraordinary mastery of the art of narrative of the lighter kind. Around
Crébillon are grouped a large number of writers, some of whom almost
rival him in delicate literary knack, and most of whom equal him in
perverse immorality of subject and tone. Much of the formal exercise of this
tale literature was a tradition from the slightly earlier school of fairy tale-
writing, which has already been noticed. Voisenon, Caylus, Boufflers,
Moncrif (the most original and most eccentric of all), La Morlière, are
names of this class. Their prose may, on the analogy of Vers de Société, be
called Prose de Société, and of a very corrupt society too. But its formal
excellence is considerable.
Of exceptional excellence among the short tales of this time, and free from
their drawbacks, is the Diable Amoureux, 1772, of Cazotte, a singular
person, strongly tinged with the 'illuminism,' or belief in occult sciences and
arts, which was a natural result of the philosophe movement. Cazotte's
melancholy story has a place in all histories of the French Revolution, and
his name was (probably) borrowed by La Harpe for a bold and striking
apologue, the authenticity or spuriousness of which is very much a matter
of guess-work. The Diable Amoureux is a singularly powerful story of its
kind, uniting, in the fashion so difficult with tales of diablerie, literary
verisimilitude and exactness of presentation with strangeness of subject.
Voltaire's chief pupils and followers, while taking his own view of the
utility of the prose tale for controversial purposes, followed another model
for the most part in point of form. The immense influence of Télémaque
was felt by Voltaire himself, though in his case it resulted in history pure
and simple. Marmontel in his Bélisaire, and Florian in his Numa Pompilius
and Gonsalve de Cordoue, returned to the historical romance. Something of
the same class, though based upon much more solid scholarship, was the
Voyage du Jeune Anacharsis of the Abbé Barthélemy. All these books, like
whom its merits and defects were both eminently present. Son of the tragic
author, Crébillon led an easy but a rather mysterious life, married an
Englishwoman, and was supposed by his friends to be dead long before he
had actually quitted this world. His works, of which it is unnecessary to
mention the names here, exhibit the moral corruption of the times in almost
the highest possible degree. But they abound in keen social satire, in acute
literary criticism, and in verbal wit. What is more, they show an
extraordinary mastery of the art of narrative of the lighter kind. Around
Crébillon are grouped a large number of writers, some of whom almost
rival him in delicate literary knack, and most of whom equal him in
perverse immorality of subject and tone. Much of the formal exercise of this
tale literature was a tradition from the slightly earlier school of fairy tale-
writing, which has already been noticed. Voisenon, Caylus, Boufflers,
Moncrif (the most original and most eccentric of all), La Morlière, are
names of this class. Their prose may, on the analogy of Vers de Société, be
called Prose de Société, and of a very corrupt society too. But its formal
excellence is considerable.
Of exceptional excellence among the short tales of this time, and free from
their drawbacks, is the Diable Amoureux, 1772, of Cazotte, a singular
person, strongly tinged with the 'illuminism,' or belief in occult sciences and
arts, which was a natural result of the philosophe movement. Cazotte's
melancholy story has a place in all histories of the French Revolution, and
his name was (probably) borrowed by La Harpe for a bold and striking
apologue, the authenticity or spuriousness of which is very much a matter
of guess-work. The Diable Amoureux is a singularly powerful story of its
kind, uniting, in the fashion so difficult with tales of diablerie, literary
verisimilitude and exactness of presentation with strangeness of subject.
Voltaire's chief pupils and followers, while taking his own view of the
utility of the prose tale for controversial purposes, followed another model
for the most part in point of form. The immense influence of Télémaque
was felt by Voltaire himself, though in his case it resulted in history pure
and simple. Marmontel in his Bélisaire, and Florian in his Numa Pompilius
and Gonsalve de Cordoue, returned to the historical romance. Something of
the same class, though based upon much more solid scholarship, was the
Voyage du Jeune Anacharsis of the Abbé Barthélemy. All these books, like
Page 446
their predecessor, have somewhat passed out of the range of literature
proper into that of school books. They are, however, all good examples of
the easy, correct, and lucid, if cold and conventional, tongue of the later
eighteenth century.
Rousseau had a far more important disciple in fiction.
Jacques Henri Bernardin de Saint-Pierre was born at Bernardin de Saint-
Pierre.
Havre in 1737. He was by profession an engineer, and
both professionally and on his private account wandered about the world in
a curious fashion. At last he met Rousseau, and the influence of Jean
Jacques developed the sentimental morality, the speculative republicanism,
and the ardent, if rather affected, love of nature which had already
distinguished him. His best book, Paul et Virginie, is perhaps the only one
of his works which can properly be called a novel; but La Chaumière
Indienne deserves to be classed with it, and even the Études de la Nature
are half fiction. Paul et Virginie was written when the author's admiration of
nature and of the savage state, imbibed from Rousseau or quickened by his
society, had been further inflamed by a three years' residence in Mauritius.
Like the books mentioned in the last paragraph, Paul et Virginie has lost
something by becoming a school-book, but its faults and merits are in a
literary sense greater than theirs. The over-ripe sentiment and the false
delicacy of it will always remain evidence of the stimulating but unhealthy
atmosphere in which it was written. But it cannot be denied that, both here
and elsewhere in Bernardin de Saint-Pierre, there is a very remarkable
faculty of word-painting, and also of influencing the feelings.
The later eighteenth century saw a vast number of
novelists and novels, few of which were of much literary Restif de la
Bretonne.
value, while most of them displayed the evil influences
of the time in more ways than one. Dulaurens, a vagabond and disreputable
writer, is chiefly remembered for his Compère Mathieu, a book presenting
some points of likeness to Jacques le Fataliste, and like it inspired partly by
Sterne, and partly by Sterne's master, Rabelais. Writers like Louvet and La
Clos continued the worst part of Crébillon's tradition without exhibiting
either his literary skill or his wit. A much more remarkable name is that of
Restif de la Bretonne, who has been called, and not without reason, the
French Defoe. He was born at Sacy in Burgundy in 1734, and died at Paris
in 1806. Although of very humble birth, he seems to have acquired an
proper into that of school books. They are, however, all good examples of
the easy, correct, and lucid, if cold and conventional, tongue of the later
eighteenth century.
Rousseau had a far more important disciple in fiction.
Jacques Henri Bernardin de Saint-Pierre was born at Bernardin de Saint-
Pierre.
Havre in 1737. He was by profession an engineer, and
both professionally and on his private account wandered about the world in
a curious fashion. At last he met Rousseau, and the influence of Jean
Jacques developed the sentimental morality, the speculative republicanism,
and the ardent, if rather affected, love of nature which had already
distinguished him. His best book, Paul et Virginie, is perhaps the only one
of his works which can properly be called a novel; but La Chaumière
Indienne deserves to be classed with it, and even the Études de la Nature
are half fiction. Paul et Virginie was written when the author's admiration of
nature and of the savage state, imbibed from Rousseau or quickened by his
society, had been further inflamed by a three years' residence in Mauritius.
Like the books mentioned in the last paragraph, Paul et Virginie has lost
something by becoming a school-book, but its faults and merits are in a
literary sense greater than theirs. The over-ripe sentiment and the false
delicacy of it will always remain evidence of the stimulating but unhealthy
atmosphere in which it was written. But it cannot be denied that, both here
and elsewhere in Bernardin de Saint-Pierre, there is a very remarkable
faculty of word-painting, and also of influencing the feelings.
The later eighteenth century saw a vast number of
novelists and novels, few of which were of much literary Restif de la
Bretonne.
value, while most of them displayed the evil influences
of the time in more ways than one. Dulaurens, a vagabond and disreputable
writer, is chiefly remembered for his Compère Mathieu, a book presenting
some points of likeness to Jacques le Fataliste, and like it inspired partly by
Sterne, and partly by Sterne's master, Rabelais. Writers like Louvet and La
Clos continued the worst part of Crébillon's tradition without exhibiting
either his literary skill or his wit. A much more remarkable name is that of
Restif de la Bretonne, who has been called, and not without reason, the
French Defoe. He was born at Sacy in Burgundy in 1734, and died at Paris
in 1806. Although of very humble birth, he seems to have acquired an
Page 447
irregular but considerable education, and, establishing himself early in
Paris, he became an indefatigable author. About fifty separate works of his
exist, some of which are of great extent, and one of which, Les
Contemporaines, includes forty-two volumes and nearly three hundred
separate articles or tales. Restif, whose entire sanity may reasonably be
doubted, was a novelist, a philosopher, a social innovator, a diligent
observer of the manners of his times, a spelling reformer. His work is for
the most part destitute of the most rudimentary notions of decency, but it is
apparently produced in good faith and with no evil purpose. His portraiture
of manners is remarkably vivid. It is in this, in his earnest but eccentric
philanthropy, and in his grasp of character, not seldom vigorous and close,
that he chiefly resembles Defoe. He has been called in France the Rousseau
of the gutter, which also is a comparison not without truth and instruction,
despite the jingle ('Rousseau du ruisseau') by which it was no doubt
suggested.
The law which seems to have ordained that, though the eighteenth century
in France should produce no masterpiece in fictitious literature, or only one,
all the most distinguished literary names should be connected with fiction,
extended to the long and, in a literary sense, dreary debateable land between
the eighteenth century itself and the nineteenth. Of this period the two
dominant names are beyond question those of Chateaubriand and of
Madame de Stael. Both attempted various kinds of writing, but some of the
most important work of both comes under the heading of the present
chapter, and both as literary figures are best treated here.
François Auguste de Chateaubriand was born at Saint
Malo, where he is now buried, in 1768, and died in Chateaubriand.
1848. He belonged to a family which was among the
noblest of Britanny and of France, but which was not wealthy, and he was a
younger son. Intended at first for the navy, he was allowed, at the outbreak
of the Revolution, to indulge his fancy for travelling, and journeyed to
North America. There he learnt the anti-monarchical turn which things had
taken in France. He at once returned and joined the emigrants at Coblentz.
He was seriously wounded at the siege of Thionville, and had some
difficulty in making his way, by Holland and Jersey, to England, where he
lived in great poverty. Chateaubriand's acceptance of the Legitimist side had
been but half-hearted, and his first published work, Sur les Révolutions
Paris, he became an indefatigable author. About fifty separate works of his
exist, some of which are of great extent, and one of which, Les
Contemporaines, includes forty-two volumes and nearly three hundred
separate articles or tales. Restif, whose entire sanity may reasonably be
doubted, was a novelist, a philosopher, a social innovator, a diligent
observer of the manners of his times, a spelling reformer. His work is for
the most part destitute of the most rudimentary notions of decency, but it is
apparently produced in good faith and with no evil purpose. His portraiture
of manners is remarkably vivid. It is in this, in his earnest but eccentric
philanthropy, and in his grasp of character, not seldom vigorous and close,
that he chiefly resembles Defoe. He has been called in France the Rousseau
of the gutter, which also is a comparison not without truth and instruction,
despite the jingle ('Rousseau du ruisseau') by which it was no doubt
suggested.
The law which seems to have ordained that, though the eighteenth century
in France should produce no masterpiece in fictitious literature, or only one,
all the most distinguished literary names should be connected with fiction,
extended to the long and, in a literary sense, dreary debateable land between
the eighteenth century itself and the nineteenth. Of this period the two
dominant names are beyond question those of Chateaubriand and of
Madame de Stael. Both attempted various kinds of writing, but some of the
most important work of both comes under the heading of the present
chapter, and both as literary figures are best treated here.
François Auguste de Chateaubriand was born at Saint
Malo, where he is now buried, in 1768, and died in Chateaubriand.
1848. He belonged to a family which was among the
noblest of Britanny and of France, but which was not wealthy, and he was a
younger son. Intended at first for the navy, he was allowed, at the outbreak
of the Revolution, to indulge his fancy for travelling, and journeyed to
North America. There he learnt the anti-monarchical turn which things had
taken in France. He at once returned and joined the emigrants at Coblentz.
He was seriously wounded at the siege of Thionville, and had some
difficulty in making his way, by Holland and Jersey, to England, where he
lived in great poverty. Chateaubriand's acceptance of the Legitimist side had
been but half-hearted, and his first published work, Sur les Révolutions
Page 448
Anciennes et Modernes, still expresses the peculiar liberalism which—it is
sometimes forgotten—was much more deeply rooted in the French noblesse
of the eighteenth century than in any other class. This opened the way to his
return at the time that Napoleon, then entering on the consulate,
endeavoured, by all the means in his power, to conciliate the emigrants. The
Génie du Christianisme, which had been preceded by Atala (a kind of
specimen of it), was his first original, and his most characteristic, work.
This curious book, which it is impossible to analyse, consists partly of a
rather desultory apology for Christian doctrine, partly of a series of
historical illustrations of Christian life: it appeared in 1802. It suited the
policy of Napoleon, who made Chateaubriand, first, secretary to the Roman
Embassy, and then ambassador to the Valais. But Chateaubriand had never
given up his legitimism, and the murder of the Duke d'Enghien shocked
him irresistibly. He at once resigned his post, and thenceforward was in
more or less covert opposition, though he was not actually banished from
France. Pursuing the vein which he had opened in the Génie, he made a
journey to the East, the result of which was his Itinéraire de Paris à
Jerusalem, and the unequal but remarkable prose epic of Les Martyrs. This,
the story of which is laid in the time of Diocletian, shifts its scene from
classical countries to Gaul, where the half-mythical heroes of the Franks
appear, and then back to Greece, Rome, and Purgatory. The fall of
Napoleon opened once more a political career, of which Chateaubriand had
always been ardently desirous. His pamphlet, De Bonaparte et des
Bourbons, was, perhaps, the most important literary contribution to the re-
establishment of the ancient monarchy. During the fifteen years which
elapsed between the battle of Waterloo and the Revolution of July,
Chateaubriand underwent vicissitudes due to the difficulty of adjusting his
liberalism and his legitimism, sentiments which seem both to have been
genuine, but to have been quite unreconciled by any reasoning process on
the part of their holder. Yet, though he had again and again experienced the
most ungracious treatment both from Louis XVIII. and Charles X., the July
monarchy had no sooner established itself than he resigned his positions
and pensions, and took no further official part in political affairs during the
rest of his life. In his latter days he was much with the celebrated Madame
Recamier, and completed his affectedly-named but admirable Mémoires
d'Outre Tombe,—an autobiography which, though marred by some of his
peculiarities, contains much of his most brilliant writing. Of the works not
sometimes forgotten—was much more deeply rooted in the French noblesse
of the eighteenth century than in any other class. This opened the way to his
return at the time that Napoleon, then entering on the consulate,
endeavoured, by all the means in his power, to conciliate the emigrants. The
Génie du Christianisme, which had been preceded by Atala (a kind of
specimen of it), was his first original, and his most characteristic, work.
This curious book, which it is impossible to analyse, consists partly of a
rather desultory apology for Christian doctrine, partly of a series of
historical illustrations of Christian life: it appeared in 1802. It suited the
policy of Napoleon, who made Chateaubriand, first, secretary to the Roman
Embassy, and then ambassador to the Valais. But Chateaubriand had never
given up his legitimism, and the murder of the Duke d'Enghien shocked
him irresistibly. He at once resigned his post, and thenceforward was in
more or less covert opposition, though he was not actually banished from
France. Pursuing the vein which he had opened in the Génie, he made a
journey to the East, the result of which was his Itinéraire de Paris à
Jerusalem, and the unequal but remarkable prose epic of Les Martyrs. This,
the story of which is laid in the time of Diocletian, shifts its scene from
classical countries to Gaul, where the half-mythical heroes of the Franks
appear, and then back to Greece, Rome, and Purgatory. The fall of
Napoleon opened once more a political career, of which Chateaubriand had
always been ardently desirous. His pamphlet, De Bonaparte et des
Bourbons, was, perhaps, the most important literary contribution to the re-
establishment of the ancient monarchy. During the fifteen years which
elapsed between the battle of Waterloo and the Revolution of July,
Chateaubriand underwent vicissitudes due to the difficulty of adjusting his
liberalism and his legitimism, sentiments which seem both to have been
genuine, but to have been quite unreconciled by any reasoning process on
the part of their holder. Yet, though he had again and again experienced the
most ungracious treatment both from Louis XVIII. and Charles X., the July
monarchy had no sooner established itself than he resigned his positions
and pensions, and took no further official part in political affairs during the
rest of his life. In his latter days he was much with the celebrated Madame
Recamier, and completed his affectedly-named but admirable Mémoires
d'Outre Tombe,—an autobiography which, though marred by some of his
peculiarities, contains much of his most brilliant writing. Of the works not
Page 449
hitherto noticed, René, Le Dernier Abencérage, Les Natchez, and some
sketches of travels and of French history, are the most remarkable.
For some thirty years, from 1810 to 1840, Chateaubriand was
unquestionably the greatest man of letters of France in the estimation of his
contemporaries. His fame has since then diminished considerably, and
much has been written to account for the change. It is not, however, very
difficult to understand it. Chateaubriand is one of the chief representatives
in literature of the working of two conditions, which, while they lend for the
time much adventitious importance to the man who takes full advantage of
them, invariably lead to rapidly-diminished estimates of him when they
have ceased to work. He was a representative at once of transition and
reaction—of transition from the hard and fast classical standards of the
eighteenth century to the principles of the romantic and eclectic schools, of
reaction against the philosophe era. He was one of the earliest and most
influential exponents of the so-called maladie du siècle, of what, from his
most illustrious pupil, is generally called Byronism. His immediate literary
teachers were Rousseau and Ossian. He was not a thoroughly well-educated
man, and he was exceptionally deficient in the purely logical and analytic
faculty as distinguished from the rhetorical and synthetic. What he could do
and did, was to glorify Christianity and monarchism in a series of
brilliantly-coloured pictures, which had an immense effect on an age
accustomed to the grey tints and monotonous argument of the opposite
school, but which, to a posterity which is placed at a different point of view,
seem to lack accuracy of detail and sincerity of emotion. Nevertheless
Chateaubriand, if not a very great man, was a very great man of letters. His
best passages are not easily to be surpassed in brilliancy of style and
vividness of colouring. If the sentiment of his René seems hollow now-a-
days, it must be remembered that this is almost entirely a matter of fashion
and of novelty. The Génie du Christianisme, despite many defects of taste,
more of insight, and most of mere learning, remains one of the most
eloquent pleadings in literature, and not one of the least effective; while the
Itinéraire is the pattern of all the picturesque travels of modern times. All
these works, and most of the rest, are practically novels with a purpose.
Even in the autobiography the historic part is entirely subdued and moulded
to the exigencies of the dramatic and narrative construction. Regarded
merely as an individual writer, Chateaubriand would supply a volume of
sketches of travels and of French history, are the most remarkable.
For some thirty years, from 1810 to 1840, Chateaubriand was
unquestionably the greatest man of letters of France in the estimation of his
contemporaries. His fame has since then diminished considerably, and
much has been written to account for the change. It is not, however, very
difficult to understand it. Chateaubriand is one of the chief representatives
in literature of the working of two conditions, which, while they lend for the
time much adventitious importance to the man who takes full advantage of
them, invariably lead to rapidly-diminished estimates of him when they
have ceased to work. He was a representative at once of transition and
reaction—of transition from the hard and fast classical standards of the
eighteenth century to the principles of the romantic and eclectic schools, of
reaction against the philosophe era. He was one of the earliest and most
influential exponents of the so-called maladie du siècle, of what, from his
most illustrious pupil, is generally called Byronism. His immediate literary
teachers were Rousseau and Ossian. He was not a thoroughly well-educated
man, and he was exceptionally deficient in the purely logical and analytic
faculty as distinguished from the rhetorical and synthetic. What he could do
and did, was to glorify Christianity and monarchism in a series of
brilliantly-coloured pictures, which had an immense effect on an age
accustomed to the grey tints and monotonous argument of the opposite
school, but which, to a posterity which is placed at a different point of view,
seem to lack accuracy of detail and sincerity of emotion. Nevertheless
Chateaubriand, if not a very great man, was a very great man of letters. His
best passages are not easily to be surpassed in brilliancy of style and
vividness of colouring. If the sentiment of his René seems hollow now-a-
days, it must be remembered that this is almost entirely a matter of fashion
and of novelty. The Génie du Christianisme, despite many defects of taste,
more of insight, and most of mere learning, remains one of the most
eloquent pleadings in literature, and not one of the least effective; while the
Itinéraire is the pattern of all the picturesque travels of modern times. All
these works, and most of the rest, are practically novels with a purpose.
Even in the autobiography the historic part is entirely subdued and moulded
to the exigencies of the dramatic and narrative construction. Regarded
merely as an individual writer, Chateaubriand would supply a volume of
Page 450
'Beauties' hardly inferior to that which could be gathered from any other
prose author in France. Regarded as a precursor, he deserves far more than
any other single man, and almost more than all others put together, the title
of father of the Romantic movement.
His chief rival in the literature of the empire was also
essentially, though not wholly or professedly, a novelist. Madame de Stael.
Anne Louise Germaine Necker, who married a Swedish
diplomatist, the Baron de Stael Holstein, and is, therefore, generally known
as Madame de Stael, was the daughter of the great financier Necker, and of
Susanne Curchod, Gibbon's early love. She was introduced young to salon
life in Paris, and early displayed ungovernable vanity, and much of the
sensibilité of the time, that is to say, an indulgence in sentiment which paid
equally little heed to morality and to good sense. Her marriage was one
purely of convenience: and while her husband, of whom she seems to have
had no reason whatever to complain, obtained some wealth by it, she
herself secured a very agreeable position, inasmuch as the king of Sweden
pledged himself either to maintain M. de Stael in the Swedish embassy at
Paris, or to provide for him in other ways. She approved the early stages of
the Revolution, but was shocked at the deposition and death of the king and
queen. Whereupon she fled the country. Before she was thirty she had
written various books, Lettres sur J. J. Rousseau, Défense de la Reine, De
l'Influence des Passions, and other pieces of many kinds. When the
influence of Napoleon became paramount, Madame de Stael, who had
returned to Paris, found herself in an awkward position, for she was equally
determined to say what she chose, and to have gallant attentions paid to her,
and Napoleon would not comply with either of her wishes. She, therefore,
had to leave France, but not before she had published her first romance,
Delphine, and a book on literature. She now travelled for some years in
Germany and Italy in the company of Benjamin Constant, who was the
object of one of her numerous accesses of affection. Corinne, her principal
novel, and her greatest work but one, appeared in 1807, her book De
l'Allemagne being suppressed in Paris, whither she had returned, but which
she soon had to leave again. The Restoration gave her access once more to
France, and enabled her to resume possession of property which had been
unjustly seized, but she died not long afterwards, in 1817. Her Dix Années
d'Exil and her Considérations sur la Révolution Française were published
prose author in France. Regarded as a precursor, he deserves far more than
any other single man, and almost more than all others put together, the title
of father of the Romantic movement.
His chief rival in the literature of the empire was also
essentially, though not wholly or professedly, a novelist. Madame de Stael.
Anne Louise Germaine Necker, who married a Swedish
diplomatist, the Baron de Stael Holstein, and is, therefore, generally known
as Madame de Stael, was the daughter of the great financier Necker, and of
Susanne Curchod, Gibbon's early love. She was introduced young to salon
life in Paris, and early displayed ungovernable vanity, and much of the
sensibilité of the time, that is to say, an indulgence in sentiment which paid
equally little heed to morality and to good sense. Her marriage was one
purely of convenience: and while her husband, of whom she seems to have
had no reason whatever to complain, obtained some wealth by it, she
herself secured a very agreeable position, inasmuch as the king of Sweden
pledged himself either to maintain M. de Stael in the Swedish embassy at
Paris, or to provide for him in other ways. She approved the early stages of
the Revolution, but was shocked at the deposition and death of the king and
queen. Whereupon she fled the country. Before she was thirty she had
written various books, Lettres sur J. J. Rousseau, Défense de la Reine, De
l'Influence des Passions, and other pieces of many kinds. When the
influence of Napoleon became paramount, Madame de Stael, who had
returned to Paris, found herself in an awkward position, for she was equally
determined to say what she chose, and to have gallant attentions paid to her,
and Napoleon would not comply with either of her wishes. She, therefore,
had to leave France, but not before she had published her first romance,
Delphine, and a book on literature. She now travelled for some years in
Germany and Italy in the company of Benjamin Constant, who was the
object of one of her numerous accesses of affection. Corinne, her principal
novel, and her greatest work but one, appeared in 1807, her book De
l'Allemagne being suppressed in Paris, whither she had returned, but which
she soon had to leave again. The Restoration gave her access once more to
France, and enabled her to resume possession of property which had been
unjustly seized, but she died not long afterwards, in 1817. Her Dix Années
d'Exil and her Considérations sur la Révolution Française were published
Page 451
posthumously, the latter being one of her chief works. She had married
secretly, in 1812, a M. de Rocca, a man more than young enough to be her
son.
The personality of Madame de Stael is far from being attractive owing to
her excessive vanity, which disgusted all her contemporaries, and the folly
which made a woman, who had never been beautiful, continue, long after
she had ceased to be young, to give herself in life and literature the airs of a
newest Héloïse. But she is a very important figure in French literature. Part
of her influence, as represented by the book De l'Allemagne, does not
directly concern us in this chapter; this part was mainly, but not wholly,
literary. It was helped and continued, however, by her other works,
especially by her novels, and, above all, by Corinne. This influence, put
briefly, was to break up the narrowness of French notions on all subjects,
and to open it to fresh ideas. Her political and general works led the way to
the nineteenth century, side by side with Chateaubriand's, but in an entirely
different sense. What Chateaubriand inculcated was the sense of the beauty
of older and simpler times, countries, and faiths which the self-satisfaction
of the eighteenth century had obscured; what Madame de Stael had to
impress were general ideas of liberalism and progress to which the same
century, in its crusade against superstition and its rather short-sighted belief
in its own enlightenment, was equally blind. Delphine, which is in the main
a romance of French society only, written before the author had seen much
of any other world except a close circle of French emigrants abroad,
exhibits this tendency much less than Corinne, which was written after that
German visit—by far the most important event of Madame de Stael's life.
Here, as Rousseau had inculcated the story of nature and savage life, as
Chateaubriand was, at the same time, inculcating the study of Christian
antiquity and the middle ages, so Madame de Stael inculcated the
cultivation of æsthetic emotions and impulses as a new influence to be
brought to bear on life. Her style, though not to be spoken of
disrespectfully, is, on the whole, inferior to her matter. It is full of the
drawbacks of eighteenth-century éloges and academic discourses, now
tawdry, now deficient in colour, flexibility, and life, at one time below the
subject, at another puffed up with commonplace and insincere declamation.
Yet when she understood a subject, which was by no means invariably the
secretly, in 1812, a M. de Rocca, a man more than young enough to be her
son.
The personality of Madame de Stael is far from being attractive owing to
her excessive vanity, which disgusted all her contemporaries, and the folly
which made a woman, who had never been beautiful, continue, long after
she had ceased to be young, to give herself in life and literature the airs of a
newest Héloïse. But she is a very important figure in French literature. Part
of her influence, as represented by the book De l'Allemagne, does not
directly concern us in this chapter; this part was mainly, but not wholly,
literary. It was helped and continued, however, by her other works,
especially by her novels, and, above all, by Corinne. This influence, put
briefly, was to break up the narrowness of French notions on all subjects,
and to open it to fresh ideas. Her political and general works led the way to
the nineteenth century, side by side with Chateaubriand's, but in an entirely
different sense. What Chateaubriand inculcated was the sense of the beauty
of older and simpler times, countries, and faiths which the self-satisfaction
of the eighteenth century had obscured; what Madame de Stael had to
impress were general ideas of liberalism and progress to which the same
century, in its crusade against superstition and its rather short-sighted belief
in its own enlightenment, was equally blind. Delphine, which is in the main
a romance of French society only, written before the author had seen much
of any other world except a close circle of French emigrants abroad,
exhibits this tendency much less than Corinne, which was written after that
German visit—by far the most important event of Madame de Stael's life.
Here, as Rousseau had inculcated the story of nature and savage life, as
Chateaubriand was, at the same time, inculcating the study of Christian
antiquity and the middle ages, so Madame de Stael inculcated the
cultivation of æsthetic emotions and impulses as a new influence to be
brought to bear on life. Her style, though not to be spoken of
disrespectfully, is, on the whole, inferior to her matter. It is full of the
drawbacks of eighteenth-century éloges and academic discourses, now
tawdry, now deficient in colour, flexibility, and life, at one time below the
subject, at another puffed up with commonplace and insincere declamation.
Yet when she understood a subject, which was by no means invariably the
Page 452
case, Madame de Stael was an excellent exponent; and when her feelings
were sincere, which they sometimes were, she was a fair mistress of pathos.
A considerable number of names of writers of fiction during the later
republic and the empire have a traditional place in the history of literature,
and some of their works are still read, but chiefly as school-books. Madame
de Genlis, the author of Les Veillées du Château, and also of many volumes
of ill-natured, and not too accurate, memoirs and reminiscences, continued
the moral tale of the eighteenth century, and in Mlle. de Clermont produced
work of merit. Fiévée, a journalist and critic of some talent, is remembered
for the pretty story of the Dot de Suzette. Madame de Souza, in her Adèle de
Sénanges and other works, revived, to a certain extent, the style of Madame
de la Fayette. Ourika and Edouard, especially the latter, preserve the name
of Madame de Duras. Madame Cottin, in Malek Adel, Elizabeth or Les
Exiles de Sibérie, etc., combined a mild flavour of romance with
irreproachable moral sentiments. A vigorous continuator of the licentious
style of novel, with hardly any of the literary refinement of its eighteenth-
century contributors, but with more fertility of incident and fancy, was
Pigault Lebrun, the forerunner of Paul de Kock. Madame de Krudener, a
woman of remarkable history, produced a good novel of sentiment in
Valérie.
were sincere, which they sometimes were, she was a fair mistress of pathos.
A considerable number of names of writers of fiction during the later
republic and the empire have a traditional place in the history of literature,
and some of their works are still read, but chiefly as school-books. Madame
de Genlis, the author of Les Veillées du Château, and also of many volumes
of ill-natured, and not too accurate, memoirs and reminiscences, continued
the moral tale of the eighteenth century, and in Mlle. de Clermont produced
work of merit. Fiévée, a journalist and critic of some talent, is remembered
for the pretty story of the Dot de Suzette. Madame de Souza, in her Adèle de
Sénanges and other works, revived, to a certain extent, the style of Madame
de la Fayette. Ourika and Edouard, especially the latter, preserve the name
of Madame de Duras. Madame Cottin, in Malek Adel, Elizabeth or Les
Exiles de Sibérie, etc., combined a mild flavour of romance with
irreproachable moral sentiments. A vigorous continuator of the licentious
style of novel, with hardly any of the literary refinement of its eighteenth-
century contributors, but with more fertility of incident and fancy, was
Pigault Lebrun, the forerunner of Paul de Kock. Madame de Krudener, a
woman of remarkable history, produced a good novel of sentiment in
Valérie.
Page 453
Two novelists, singularly different in idiosyncrasy,
complete what may be called the eighteenth-century Xavier de Maistre.
school. Xavier de Maistre, younger brother of the great
Catholic polemist, Joseph de Maistre, was born at Chambéry, in 1763. He
served in the Piedmontese army during his youth, and his most famous
work, the Voyage autour de ma Chambre, was published in 1794. The
national extinction of Savoy and Piedmont, at least the annexation of Savoy
and the effacement of Piedmont, made Xavier de Maistre an exile. He
joined his brother in St. Petersburg, served in the Russian army, fought, and
was wounded in the Caucasus; attained the rank of general, and died at St.
Petersburg, in 1852, at the great age of eighty-nine. His work consists of the
Voyage, an account of a temporary imprisonment in his quarters at Turin,
obviously suggested by Sterne, but exceedingly original in execution; Le
Lépreux de la Cité d'Aoste, in which the same inspiration and the same
independent use of it are noticeable; and Les Prisonniers du Caucase, a
vivid narrative rather in the manner of the nineteenth than of the eighteenth
century, with a continuation of the Voyage called Expédition Nocturne,
which has not escaped the usual fate of continuations, and a short version of
the touching story of Prascovia, which contrasts very curiously with
Madame Cottin's more artificial handling of the same subject. The
important point about Xavier de Maistre is that he unites the sentimentality
of the eighteenth century, and not a little of its Marivaudage, with an
exactness of observation, a general truth of description, and a sense of
narrative art which belong rather to the nineteenth. Although he was not a
Frenchman, his style has always been regarded as a model of French; and
the great authority of Sainte Beuve justly places him and Mérimée side by
side as the most perfect tellers of tales in the simple fashion.
Benjamin Constant's Adolphe, 1815, is a very different
work, but an equally remarkable one. It may be a Benjamin Constant.
question whether it is not entitled to take rank rather as
the first book of the nineteenth-century school than as the last of the
eighteenth. But its author (better known as a politician) published no further
attempt to pursue the way he had opened; and though he himself denied its
application to the persons who were usually identified with its characters,
there is every reason to believe that it was rather the record of a personal
experience than a deliberate effort of art. It is very short, dealing with the
complete what may be called the eighteenth-century Xavier de Maistre.
school. Xavier de Maistre, younger brother of the great
Catholic polemist, Joseph de Maistre, was born at Chambéry, in 1763. He
served in the Piedmontese army during his youth, and his most famous
work, the Voyage autour de ma Chambre, was published in 1794. The
national extinction of Savoy and Piedmont, at least the annexation of Savoy
and the effacement of Piedmont, made Xavier de Maistre an exile. He
joined his brother in St. Petersburg, served in the Russian army, fought, and
was wounded in the Caucasus; attained the rank of general, and died at St.
Petersburg, in 1852, at the great age of eighty-nine. His work consists of the
Voyage, an account of a temporary imprisonment in his quarters at Turin,
obviously suggested by Sterne, but exceedingly original in execution; Le
Lépreux de la Cité d'Aoste, in which the same inspiration and the same
independent use of it are noticeable; and Les Prisonniers du Caucase, a
vivid narrative rather in the manner of the nineteenth than of the eighteenth
century, with a continuation of the Voyage called Expédition Nocturne,
which has not escaped the usual fate of continuations, and a short version of
the touching story of Prascovia, which contrasts very curiously with
Madame Cottin's more artificial handling of the same subject. The
important point about Xavier de Maistre is that he unites the sentimentality
of the eighteenth century, and not a little of its Marivaudage, with an
exactness of observation, a general truth of description, and a sense of
narrative art which belong rather to the nineteenth. Although he was not a
Frenchman, his style has always been regarded as a model of French; and
the great authority of Sainte Beuve justly places him and Mérimée side by
side as the most perfect tellers of tales in the simple fashion.
Benjamin Constant's Adolphe, 1815, is a very different
work, but an equally remarkable one. It may be a Benjamin Constant.
question whether it is not entitled to take rank rather as
the first book of the nineteenth-century school than as the last of the
eighteenth. But its author (better known as a politician) published no further
attempt to pursue the way he had opened; and though he himself denied its
application to the persons who were usually identified with its characters,
there is every reason to believe that it was rather the record of a personal
experience than a deliberate effort of art. It is very short, dealing with the
Page 454
love of a certain Adolphe for a certain Ellénore and his disenchantment. The
psychological drawing, though one-sided, is astonishingly true, and though
sensibilité is still present, it has obviously lost its hold both on the
characters represented and their creator. Deliberate analysis appears almost
as much as in the work of Beyle himself. It is in every respect a remarkable
book, and many parts of it might have been written at the present day. What
distinguishes it from almost all its forerunners is that there is hardly any
attempt at incident, far less at adventure. The play of thought and feeling is
the sole source of interest. It is true that the situation is one that could not
support a long book, and that it is thus rather an essay at the modern
analytic novel than a finished example of it. But it is such an essay, and
very far from an unsuccessful one.
FOOTNOTES:
[288] The works of fiction written by the great authors of the century are easily
obtainable. Manon Lescaut has been frequently and satisfactorily reproduced of
late years—the two editions of Glady, with and without illustrations, being
especially noteworthy. Restif de la Bretonne is a literary curiosity whose
voluminous works hardly any collector possesses in their entirety; but the three
volumes of the Contemporaines, selected and edited for the Nouvelle Collection
Jannet by M. Assézat, will give a very fair idea of his peculiarities. Of most of
the other authors mentioned convenient, handsome, and not too expensive
editions will be found in the Bibliothèque Amusante of MM. Garnier Frères. This
includes Mesdames de Tencin, de Fontaines, Riccoboni, de Beaumont, de
Genlis, de Duras, de Souza, as well as Marivaux and Fiévée. Lesage's more
remarkable fictions are obtainable at every library. Xavier de Maistre forms a
single cheap volume. A handsome little edition of Constant's Adolphe has been
edited by M. de Lescure for the Librairie des Bibliophiles. Cazotte's Diable
Amoureux is in the Nouvelle Collection Jannet. M. Uzanne's reproductions of the
prose tale-tellers are excellent.
psychological drawing, though one-sided, is astonishingly true, and though
sensibilité is still present, it has obviously lost its hold both on the
characters represented and their creator. Deliberate analysis appears almost
as much as in the work of Beyle himself. It is in every respect a remarkable
book, and many parts of it might have been written at the present day. What
distinguishes it from almost all its forerunners is that there is hardly any
attempt at incident, far less at adventure. The play of thought and feeling is
the sole source of interest. It is true that the situation is one that could not
support a long book, and that it is thus rather an essay at the modern
analytic novel than a finished example of it. But it is such an essay, and
very far from an unsuccessful one.
FOOTNOTES:
[288] The works of fiction written by the great authors of the century are easily
obtainable. Manon Lescaut has been frequently and satisfactorily reproduced of
late years—the two editions of Glady, with and without illustrations, being
especially noteworthy. Restif de la Bretonne is a literary curiosity whose
voluminous works hardly any collector possesses in their entirety; but the three
volumes of the Contemporaines, selected and edited for the Nouvelle Collection
Jannet by M. Assézat, will give a very fair idea of his peculiarities. Of most of
the other authors mentioned convenient, handsome, and not too expensive
editions will be found in the Bibliothèque Amusante of MM. Garnier Frères. This
includes Mesdames de Tencin, de Fontaines, Riccoboni, de Beaumont, de
Genlis, de Duras, de Souza, as well as Marivaux and Fiévée. Lesage's more
remarkable fictions are obtainable at every library. Xavier de Maistre forms a
single cheap volume. A handsome little edition of Constant's Adolphe has been
edited by M. de Lescure for the Librairie des Bibliophiles. Cazotte's Diable
Amoureux is in the Nouvelle Collection Jannet. M. Uzanne's reproductions of the
prose tale-tellers are excellent.
Page 455
CHAPTER IV.
HISTORIANS, MEMOIR-WRITERS, LETTER-WRITERS.
In the three branches of literature included in this
chapter the interest of the eighteenth century is great, but Characteristics and
Divisions of
unequally divided. In history proper, that is to say, the Eighteenth-century
connected survey from documents of a greater or lesser History.
period of the past, the age saw, if not the beginning,
certainly the maturing of a philosophical conception of the science. Putting
Bossuet out of the question, Vico in Italy, Montesquieu and Turgot in
France, are usually and rightly credited with the working out of this great
conception. But though pretty fully worked, or at least sketched out, it was
not applied in any book of bulk and merit. The writings of Montesquieu and
Turgot themselves are not history—they are essays of lesser or greater
length in historical philosophy. Nor from the merely literary point of view
has France any historical production of the first rank to put forward at this
time. The works of greater extent, such as Rollin's, are of no special literary
value; the works of literary value, such as Voltaire's studies, are of but small
extent, and rather resemble the historical essay of the preceding century,
which still continued to be practised, and which had one special practitioner
of merit in Rulhière. But nothing even distantly approaching the English
masterpiece of the period, the Decline and Fall, was produced; hardly
anything approaching Hume's History. Nor again do the memoirs[289] of this
time equal those of the seventeenth century in literary power, though they
are useful as sources of historical and social information. No man of letters
of the first class has left such work, and no one, not by profession a man of
letters, has by such work come even near the position of the Cardinal de
Retz or the Duke de Saint Simon, the latter of whom, it is fair to remember,
actually lived into the second half of the century. On the other hand, the
letter-writers of the time are numerous and excellent. Although no one of
them equals Madame de Sévigné in bulk and in completeness of merit, the
letters of Mademoiselle de l'Espinasse, of Madame du Deffand, of Diderot
to Mademoiselle Volland, and some others, are of very great excellence, and
HISTORIANS, MEMOIR-WRITERS, LETTER-WRITERS.
In the three branches of literature included in this
chapter the interest of the eighteenth century is great, but Characteristics and
Divisions of
unequally divided. In history proper, that is to say, the Eighteenth-century
connected survey from documents of a greater or lesser History.
period of the past, the age saw, if not the beginning,
certainly the maturing of a philosophical conception of the science. Putting
Bossuet out of the question, Vico in Italy, Montesquieu and Turgot in
France, are usually and rightly credited with the working out of this great
conception. But though pretty fully worked, or at least sketched out, it was
not applied in any book of bulk and merit. The writings of Montesquieu and
Turgot themselves are not history—they are essays of lesser or greater
length in historical philosophy. Nor from the merely literary point of view
has France any historical production of the first rank to put forward at this
time. The works of greater extent, such as Rollin's, are of no special literary
value; the works of literary value, such as Voltaire's studies, are of but small
extent, and rather resemble the historical essay of the preceding century,
which still continued to be practised, and which had one special practitioner
of merit in Rulhière. But nothing even distantly approaching the English
masterpiece of the period, the Decline and Fall, was produced; hardly
anything approaching Hume's History. Nor again do the memoirs[289] of this
time equal those of the seventeenth century in literary power, though they
are useful as sources of historical and social information. No man of letters
of the first class has left such work, and no one, not by profession a man of
letters, has by such work come even near the position of the Cardinal de
Retz or the Duke de Saint Simon, the latter of whom, it is fair to remember,
actually lived into the second half of the century. On the other hand, the
letter-writers of the time are numerous and excellent. Although no one of
them equals Madame de Sévigné in bulk and in completeness of merit, the
letters of Mademoiselle de l'Espinasse, of Madame du Deffand, of Diderot
to Mademoiselle Volland, and some others, are of very great excellence, and
Page 456
almost unsurpassed in their characterization of the intellectual and social
peculiarities of the time. The absence of regular histories of the first merit
would be more surprising than it is if it were not fully accounted for by the
dominant peculiarity of the day, which is never to be forgotten in studying
its history—the absorption, that is to say, of the greater part of the intellect
of the time in the philosophe polemic. Almost all the histories that were
written, except as works of pure erudition, were in reality pamphlets
intended to point, more or less allegorically, some moral as to real or
supposed abuses in the social, ecclesiastical, or political state of France.
This peculiarity could not fail to detract from their permanent interest, even
if it did not (as it too often did) make the authors less careful to give a
correct account of their subject than to make it serve their purpose.
The first regular historian who deserves mention is
Charles Rollin, who perhaps had a longer and wider Rollin.
monopoly of a certain kind of historical instruction than
any other author. He was born at Paris in January, 1661, of the middle class,
and, after studying at the Collège du Plessis, he became Professor at the
Collége de France, and, in 1694, Rector of the University; a post in which
he distinguished himself by introducing many useful and much-needed
reforms. He was a Jansenist, but was not much inconvenienced in
consequence. Rollin's book (that is to say the only one by which he is
remembered) is his extensive Histoire Ancienne, 1730-1738, the work of his
advanced years, which was the standard treatise on the subject for nearly a
century, and was translated into most languages. Although showing no
particular historical grasp, written with no power of style, and not
universally accurate, it deserves such praise as may be due to a work of
great practical utility requiring much industrious labour, and not imitated
from or much assisted by any previous book. The Histoire Romaine, which
followed it, was of little worth, but Rollin's Traité des Études was a very
useful book in its time.
Two historians, who hardly deserve the name, are
usually ranked together in this part of French history, Dubos.
partly because they represent almost the last of the
fabulous school of history-writers, partly because their Boulainvilliers.
disputes (for they were of opposite factions) have had
the honour to be noticed by Montesquieu. These were Dubos and
peculiarities of the time. The absence of regular histories of the first merit
would be more surprising than it is if it were not fully accounted for by the
dominant peculiarity of the day, which is never to be forgotten in studying
its history—the absorption, that is to say, of the greater part of the intellect
of the time in the philosophe polemic. Almost all the histories that were
written, except as works of pure erudition, were in reality pamphlets
intended to point, more or less allegorically, some moral as to real or
supposed abuses in the social, ecclesiastical, or political state of France.
This peculiarity could not fail to detract from their permanent interest, even
if it did not (as it too often did) make the authors less careful to give a
correct account of their subject than to make it serve their purpose.
The first regular historian who deserves mention is
Charles Rollin, who perhaps had a longer and wider Rollin.
monopoly of a certain kind of historical instruction than
any other author. He was born at Paris in January, 1661, of the middle class,
and, after studying at the Collège du Plessis, he became Professor at the
Collége de France, and, in 1694, Rector of the University; a post in which
he distinguished himself by introducing many useful and much-needed
reforms. He was a Jansenist, but was not much inconvenienced in
consequence. Rollin's book (that is to say the only one by which he is
remembered) is his extensive Histoire Ancienne, 1730-1738, the work of his
advanced years, which was the standard treatise on the subject for nearly a
century, and was translated into most languages. Although showing no
particular historical grasp, written with no power of style, and not
universally accurate, it deserves such praise as may be due to a work of
great practical utility requiring much industrious labour, and not imitated
from or much assisted by any previous book. The Histoire Romaine, which
followed it, was of little worth, but Rollin's Traité des Études was a very
useful book in its time.
Two historians, who hardly deserve the name, are
usually ranked together in this part of French history, Dubos.
partly because they represent almost the last of the
fabulous school of history-writers, partly because their Boulainvilliers.
disputes (for they were of opposite factions) have had
the honour to be noticed by Montesquieu. These were Dubos and
Page 457
Boulainvilliers. The Abbé Dubos was a writer of some merit on a great
variety of subjects; his Réflexions sur la Poésie et la Peinture being of
value. His chief historical work is entitled Histoire Critique de
l'Etablissement de la Monarchie Française dans les Gaules, in which, with
a paradoxical patriotism, which has found some echoes among living
historians, he maintained that the Frankish invasion of Gaul was the
consequence of an amicable invitation, that the Gauls were in no sense
conquered, and that all conclusions based on the supposition of such a
conquest were therefore erroneous. It is fair to Dubos to say that he had
been in a manner provoked by the arguments of the Count de
Boulainvilliers. According to this latter, the Frankish conquest had resulted
in the establishment of a dominant caste, which alone had full
enfranchisement, and which was lineally, or at least titularly, represented by
the French aristocracy of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. These
reckless and baseless hypotheses would not require notice, were it not
important to show how long it was before the idea of rigid enquiry into
documentary facts on the one hand, and philosophical application of general
laws on the other, were observed in historical writing.
Montesquieu himself will come in for mention under the
head of philosophers, but Voltaire's ubiquity will be Voltaire.
maintained in this chapter. His strictly historical work
was indeed considerable, even if what is perhaps the most remarkable of it,
the Essai sur les Mœurs (which may be described as a treatise, with
instances, on the philosophy of history, as applied to modern times), be
excluded. Besides smaller works, the histories of Charles XII. and Peter the
Great, the Age of Louis XIV., the Age of Louis XV., and the Annals of the
Empire, belong to the class of which we are now treating. Of these there is
no doubt that the Siècle de Louis Quatorze, 1752, is the best, though the
slighter sketches of Charles, 1731, and Peter, 1759, are not undeserving of
the position they have long held as little masterpieces. Voltaire, however,
was not altogether well qualified for a historian; indeed, he had but few
qualifications for the work, except his mastery of a clear, light, and lively
style. He had no real conception, such as Montesquieu had, of the
philosophy of history, or of the operation of general causes. His reading,
though extensive, was desultory and uncritical, and he constantly fell into
the most grotesque blunders. His prejudices were very strong, and he is
variety of subjects; his Réflexions sur la Poésie et la Peinture being of
value. His chief historical work is entitled Histoire Critique de
l'Etablissement de la Monarchie Française dans les Gaules, in which, with
a paradoxical patriotism, which has found some echoes among living
historians, he maintained that the Frankish invasion of Gaul was the
consequence of an amicable invitation, that the Gauls were in no sense
conquered, and that all conclusions based on the supposition of such a
conquest were therefore erroneous. It is fair to Dubos to say that he had
been in a manner provoked by the arguments of the Count de
Boulainvilliers. According to this latter, the Frankish conquest had resulted
in the establishment of a dominant caste, which alone had full
enfranchisement, and which was lineally, or at least titularly, represented by
the French aristocracy of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. These
reckless and baseless hypotheses would not require notice, were it not
important to show how long it was before the idea of rigid enquiry into
documentary facts on the one hand, and philosophical application of general
laws on the other, were observed in historical writing.
Montesquieu himself will come in for mention under the
head of philosophers, but Voltaire's ubiquity will be Voltaire.
maintained in this chapter. His strictly historical work
was indeed considerable, even if what is perhaps the most remarkable of it,
the Essai sur les Mœurs (which may be described as a treatise, with
instances, on the philosophy of history, as applied to modern times), be
excluded. Besides smaller works, the histories of Charles XII. and Peter the
Great, the Age of Louis XIV., the Age of Louis XV., and the Annals of the
Empire, belong to the class of which we are now treating. Of these there is
no doubt that the Siècle de Louis Quatorze, 1752, is the best, though the
slighter sketches of Charles, 1731, and Peter, 1759, are not undeserving of
the position they have long held as little masterpieces. Voltaire, however,
was not altogether well qualified for a historian; indeed, he had but few
qualifications for the work, except his mastery of a clear, light, and lively
style. He had no real conception, such as Montesquieu had, of the
philosophy of history, or of the operation of general causes. His reading,
though extensive, was desultory and uncritical, and he constantly fell into
the most grotesque blunders. His prejudices were very strong, and he is
Page 458
more responsible than any other single person for the absurd and ignorant
disdain of the middle ages, which, so long as it lasted, made comprehension
of modern history and society simply impossible, because the origins of
both were wilfully ignored. These various drawbacks had perhaps less
influence on the Siècle de Louis Quatorze than on any other of his historical
works, and it is accordingly the best. He was well acquainted with the
subject, he was much interested in it, it touched few of his prejudices, and
he was able to speak with tolerable freedom about it. The result is excellent,
and it deserves the credit of being almost the first finished history (as
distinguished from mere diaries like those of L'Estoile) in which not merely
affairs of state, but literary, artistic, and social matters generally found a
place.
The third and fourth quarters of the century are the
special period when history was, as has been said, Mably.
degraded to the level of a party pamphlet, especially in
such works as the Abbé Raynal's Histoire des Indes. This was a mere
vehicle for philosophe tirades on religious and political subjects, many if
not most of which are known to have proceeded from Diderot's fertile pen.
Crevier and Lebeau, however, names forgotten now, continued the work of
Rollin; and meanwhile the descendants of the laborious school of historians
mentioned in the last book (many of whom survived until far into the
century) pursued their useful work. Not the least of these was Dom Calmet,
author of the well-known 'Dictionary of the Bible.' But the chief historical
names of the later eighteenth century are Mably and Rulhière. Mably, who
might be treated equally well under the head of philosophy, was an abbé,
and moderately orthodox in religion, though decidedly Republican in
politics. He was a man of some learning; but, if less ignorant than Voltaire,
he was equally blind to the real meaning and influence of the middle ages
and of mediaeval institutions. He looked back to the institutions of Rome,
and still more of Greece, as models of political perfection, without making
the slightest allowance for the difference of circumstances; and to him more
than to any one else is due the nonsensical declamation of the Jacobins
about tyrants and champions of liberty. His works, the Entretiens de
Phocion, the Observations sur l'Histoire de France, the Droits de l'Europe
fondés sur les Traités, are, however, far from destitute of value, though, as
generally happens, it was their least valuable part which (especially when
disdain of the middle ages, which, so long as it lasted, made comprehension
of modern history and society simply impossible, because the origins of
both were wilfully ignored. These various drawbacks had perhaps less
influence on the Siècle de Louis Quatorze than on any other of his historical
works, and it is accordingly the best. He was well acquainted with the
subject, he was much interested in it, it touched few of his prejudices, and
he was able to speak with tolerable freedom about it. The result is excellent,
and it deserves the credit of being almost the first finished history (as
distinguished from mere diaries like those of L'Estoile) in which not merely
affairs of state, but literary, artistic, and social matters generally found a
place.
The third and fourth quarters of the century are the
special period when history was, as has been said, Mably.
degraded to the level of a party pamphlet, especially in
such works as the Abbé Raynal's Histoire des Indes. This was a mere
vehicle for philosophe tirades on religious and political subjects, many if
not most of which are known to have proceeded from Diderot's fertile pen.
Crevier and Lebeau, however, names forgotten now, continued the work of
Rollin; and meanwhile the descendants of the laborious school of historians
mentioned in the last book (many of whom survived until far into the
century) pursued their useful work. Not the least of these was Dom Calmet,
author of the well-known 'Dictionary of the Bible.' But the chief historical
names of the later eighteenth century are Mably and Rulhière. Mably, who
might be treated equally well under the head of philosophy, was an abbé,
and moderately orthodox in religion, though decidedly Republican in
politics. He was a man of some learning; but, if less ignorant than Voltaire,
he was equally blind to the real meaning and influence of the middle ages
and of mediaeval institutions. He looked back to the institutions of Rome,
and still more of Greece, as models of political perfection, without making
the slightest allowance for the difference of circumstances; and to him more
than to any one else is due the nonsensical declamation of the Jacobins
about tyrants and champions of liberty. His works, the Entretiens de
Phocion, the Observations sur l'Histoire de France, the Droits de l'Europe
fondés sur les Traités, are, however, far from destitute of value, though, as
generally happens, it was their least valuable part which (especially when
Page 459
Rousseau followed to enforce similar ideas with his contagious enthusiasm)
produced the greatest effect.
Rulhière, who was really a historian of excellence, and
who might under rather more favourable circumstances Rulhière.
have been one of the most distinguished, was born about
1735. His Christian names were Claude Carloman. He was of noble birth,
was educated at the Collège Louis-le-Grand, and served in the army till he
was nearly thirty years old. He then went to St. Petersburg as secretary to
the ambassador Breteuil, whom he also accompanied to Sweden. He
returned to Paris and began to write the history of the singular proceedings
which during his stay in the Russian capital had placed Catherine II. on the
throne. The Empress, it is said, tried both to bribe and to frighten him, but
could obtain nothing but a promise not to print the sketch till her death. He
continued to live in Paris, where he was distinguished for rather ill-natured
wit and for polished verse-tales and epigrams. For some reason he devoted
himself to the history of Poland. In 1787 he was elected to the Academy.
Then he wrote some Eclaircissements Historiques sur les Causes de la
Révocation de l'Édit de Nantes, and is said to have begun other historical
works. He died in 1791. His 'Anecdotes on the Revolution in Russia' did not
appear till 1797; his Histoire de l'Anarchie de Pologne not till even later.
The Polish book is unfinished, and is said to have been garbled in
manuscript. But it has very considerable merits, though there is perhaps too
much discussion in proportion to the facts given. The Russian anecdotes
deserve to rank with the historical essays of Retz and Saint-Réal in
vividness and precision of drawing.
These are the chief names of the century in history proper, for Volney, who
concludes it in regard to the study of history, is, like many of his
predecessors, rather a philosopher busying himself with the historical
departments and applications of his subject than a historian proper. Still
more may this be said of Diderot in such works as the Essai sur les Règnes
de Claude et de Néron. The creation of a school of accomplished historians
was left for the next century, when the opportunity of such a subject as the
French Revolution in the immediate past, the stimulus of the precepts and
views of the great writers on the philosophy of history, and lastly the
disinterring of the original documents of mediaeval and ancient history, did
not fail to produce their natural effect. The number of historians of the first
produced the greatest effect.
Rulhière, who was really a historian of excellence, and
who might under rather more favourable circumstances Rulhière.
have been one of the most distinguished, was born about
1735. His Christian names were Claude Carloman. He was of noble birth,
was educated at the Collège Louis-le-Grand, and served in the army till he
was nearly thirty years old. He then went to St. Petersburg as secretary to
the ambassador Breteuil, whom he also accompanied to Sweden. He
returned to Paris and began to write the history of the singular proceedings
which during his stay in the Russian capital had placed Catherine II. on the
throne. The Empress, it is said, tried both to bribe and to frighten him, but
could obtain nothing but a promise not to print the sketch till her death. He
continued to live in Paris, where he was distinguished for rather ill-natured
wit and for polished verse-tales and epigrams. For some reason he devoted
himself to the history of Poland. In 1787 he was elected to the Academy.
Then he wrote some Eclaircissements Historiques sur les Causes de la
Révocation de l'Édit de Nantes, and is said to have begun other historical
works. He died in 1791. His 'Anecdotes on the Revolution in Russia' did not
appear till 1797; his Histoire de l'Anarchie de Pologne not till even later.
The Polish book is unfinished, and is said to have been garbled in
manuscript. But it has very considerable merits, though there is perhaps too
much discussion in proportion to the facts given. The Russian anecdotes
deserve to rank with the historical essays of Retz and Saint-Réal in
vividness and precision of drawing.
These are the chief names of the century in history proper, for Volney, who
concludes it in regard to the study of history, is, like many of his
predecessors, rather a philosopher busying himself with the historical
departments and applications of his subject than a historian proper. Still
more may this be said of Diderot in such works as the Essai sur les Règnes
de Claude et de Néron. The creation of a school of accomplished historians
was left for the next century, when the opportunity of such a subject as the
French Revolution in the immediate past, the stimulus of the precepts and
views of the great writers on the philosophy of history, and lastly the
disinterring of the original documents of mediaeval and ancient history, did
not fail to produce their natural effect. The number of historians of the first
Page 460
and second class born towards the close of the eighteenth century is
remarkable.
The first memoirs, properly so called, which have to be
mentioned as belonging to the eighteenth century, are Memoirs. Madame
those of Mademoiselle Delaunay, afterwards Madame de de Staal-Delaunay.
Staal. Mademoiselle Delaunay was attached to the
household of the Duchess du Maine, the beautiful, Duclos.
impetuous, and highborn wife of one of the stupidest
and least interesting of men, who happened also to be Bésenval.
the illegitimate son of Louis XIV. The Duke du Maine,
or rather his wife, for he himself was nearly as destitute Madame d'Epinay.
of ambition as of ability, was at the head of the party
opposed to that of which the Duke of Orleans (the Regent) was the natural
chief, and Saint Simon the ablest partisan. The 'party of the bastards' failed,
but the duchess kept up a vigorous literary and political agitation against the
Regent. The court (as it may be called) of this opposition was held at
Sceaux, and of the doings of this court Madame de Staal has left a very
vivid account. The Marquis d'Argenson, a statesman and a man of great
intelligence, concealed under a rough and clumsy exterior, has left memoirs
which are valuable for the early and middle part of the reign of Louis XV.
The memoirs, properly so called, of Duclos are of small extent, but he has
left impersonal memoirs of the later reign of Louis XIV. and the beginning
of that of his great-grandson, which are among the best historical work of
the time. His account of the famous 'system' of Law is one of the principal
sources of information on its subject, as is his handling of the Cellamare
conspiracy and other affairs of the regency. Duclos was a man not only of
considerable literary talent, but of wide historical reading, which appears
amply in his work. The gossiping memoirs, attributed to Madame du
Hausset, bedchamber-woman to Madame de Pompadour, give many curious
details of the middle period of Louis XV.'s reign; and in the vast collection
of tittle-tattle, often scandalous enough, called the Mémoires de
Bachaumont, much matter of interest, and some that is of value, may be
found. Among the most valuable memoirs of this kind are those of Collé,
which have been only recently edited in full. Collé, who, though a time-
server and an ill-natured man, had much literary talent, was an acute
observer, and enjoyed great opportunities, has left important materials for
remarkable.
The first memoirs, properly so called, which have to be
mentioned as belonging to the eighteenth century, are Memoirs. Madame
those of Mademoiselle Delaunay, afterwards Madame de de Staal-Delaunay.
Staal. Mademoiselle Delaunay was attached to the
household of the Duchess du Maine, the beautiful, Duclos.
impetuous, and highborn wife of one of the stupidest
and least interesting of men, who happened also to be Bésenval.
the illegitimate son of Louis XIV. The Duke du Maine,
or rather his wife, for he himself was nearly as destitute Madame d'Epinay.
of ambition as of ability, was at the head of the party
opposed to that of which the Duke of Orleans (the Regent) was the natural
chief, and Saint Simon the ablest partisan. The 'party of the bastards' failed,
but the duchess kept up a vigorous literary and political agitation against the
Regent. The court (as it may be called) of this opposition was held at
Sceaux, and of the doings of this court Madame de Staal has left a very
vivid account. The Marquis d'Argenson, a statesman and a man of great
intelligence, concealed under a rough and clumsy exterior, has left memoirs
which are valuable for the early and middle part of the reign of Louis XV.
The memoirs, properly so called, of Duclos are of small extent, but he has
left impersonal memoirs of the later reign of Louis XIV. and the beginning
of that of his great-grandson, which are among the best historical work of
the time. His account of the famous 'system' of Law is one of the principal
sources of information on its subject, as is his handling of the Cellamare
conspiracy and other affairs of the regency. Duclos was a man not only of
considerable literary talent, but of wide historical reading, which appears
amply in his work. The gossiping memoirs, attributed to Madame du
Hausset, bedchamber-woman to Madame de Pompadour, give many curious
details of the middle period of Louis XV.'s reign; and in the vast collection
of tittle-tattle, often scandalous enough, called the Mémoires de
Bachaumont, much matter of interest, and some that is of value, may be
found. Among the most valuable memoirs of this kind are those of Collé,
which have been only recently edited in full. Collé, who, though a time-
server and an ill-natured man, had much literary talent, was an acute
observer, and enjoyed great opportunities, has left important materials for
Page 461
the middle of the century. The Baron de Bésenval, half a Savoyard and half
a Pole, who played an important part in the early days of the Revolution,
and who had previously encouraged Marie Antoinette in the levities,
harmless enough but worse than ill-judged, which had so fatal a result, has
left reminiscences of the later years of Louis XV., and a connected narrative
of the outbreak of the Revolution. The memoirs concerning the Philosophes
form a library in themselves, even those which concern Voltaire alone
making a not inconsiderable collection. Those of Madame d'Epinay (the
friend of Grimm, of Galiani, and of Rousseau), of Marmontel, of Morellet,
are perhaps the principal of this group. Marmontel's memoirs are among his
best works, and Madame d'Epinay's are among the most characteristic of
the period. There is a certain number of interesting memoirs of actors and
actresses, which dates from this time, including those of the great actress
Mademoiselle Clairon, the tragic actor Le Kain, and others.
Circumstances rather political than literary have given a
place in literary history to the memoirs of Linguet and Minor Memoirs.
Latude concerning the Bastile. That celebrated building,
however, figures largely in the memoirs of the time, and the experiences of
Voltaire, Marmontel, Crébillon, and others show how greatly exaggerated is
the popular notion of its dungeons and torments. The so-called memoirs of
the Duke de Richelieu (the type, and a very debased type, of the French
noblesse of the eighteenth century, as La Rochefoucauld was of that of the
seventeenth) are the work of Soulavie, a literary man and unfrocked abbé of
very dubious character: but they at least rest upon authentic data, and
abound in the most curious information. The President Hénault, a man of
probity and learning, has left memoirs of value.
As might be expected, the collection of memoirs which
have reference to the Revolution and the Empire is very Memoirs of the
Revolutionary
large. The fortunes of the ill-fated royal family are dealt Period.
with in three sets of memoirs, on which all historians
have been obliged to draw, those of Madame Campan, of Weber, and of
Cléry, all three of whom were attendants on Louis XVI. and Marie
Antoinette. The memoirs of the first-named are supposed to be the least
accurate in matters of fact. The ill-natured and factious Madame de Genlis
has left two different works of the memoir kind, the one entitled Souvenirs
de Félicie, which is somewhat fictitious in form and arrangement, but is
a Pole, who played an important part in the early days of the Revolution,
and who had previously encouraged Marie Antoinette in the levities,
harmless enough but worse than ill-judged, which had so fatal a result, has
left reminiscences of the later years of Louis XV., and a connected narrative
of the outbreak of the Revolution. The memoirs concerning the Philosophes
form a library in themselves, even those which concern Voltaire alone
making a not inconsiderable collection. Those of Madame d'Epinay (the
friend of Grimm, of Galiani, and of Rousseau), of Marmontel, of Morellet,
are perhaps the principal of this group. Marmontel's memoirs are among his
best works, and Madame d'Epinay's are among the most characteristic of
the period. There is a certain number of interesting memoirs of actors and
actresses, which dates from this time, including those of the great actress
Mademoiselle Clairon, the tragic actor Le Kain, and others.
Circumstances rather political than literary have given a
place in literary history to the memoirs of Linguet and Minor Memoirs.
Latude concerning the Bastile. That celebrated building,
however, figures largely in the memoirs of the time, and the experiences of
Voltaire, Marmontel, Crébillon, and others show how greatly exaggerated is
the popular notion of its dungeons and torments. The so-called memoirs of
the Duke de Richelieu (the type, and a very debased type, of the French
noblesse of the eighteenth century, as La Rochefoucauld was of that of the
seventeenth) are the work of Soulavie, a literary man and unfrocked abbé of
very dubious character: but they at least rest upon authentic data, and
abound in the most curious information. The President Hénault, a man of
probity and learning, has left memoirs of value.
As might be expected, the collection of memoirs which
have reference to the Revolution and the Empire is very Memoirs of the
Revolutionary
large. The fortunes of the ill-fated royal family are dealt Period.
with in three sets of memoirs, on which all historians
have been obliged to draw, those of Madame Campan, of Weber, and of
Cléry, all three of whom were attendants on Louis XVI. and Marie
Antoinette. The memoirs of the first-named are supposed to be the least
accurate in matters of fact. The ill-natured and factious Madame de Genlis
has left two different works of the memoir kind, the one entitled Souvenirs
de Félicie, which is somewhat fictitious in form and arrangement, but is
Page 462
believed to be accurate enough in facts; the other, definitely called
Memoirs, which was written long after date, and is much coloured by
prejudice. The Marquis de Bouillé, whose gallant conduct during the Nancy
mutiny set an example which the nobility of France were unfortunately
slow to follow, and who would have saved Louis XVI. in the Varennes
flight but for ill-luck and the king's incredible folly, has also left memoirs of
value; and so has Dumouriez. The memoirs of Louvet, of Daunou, of
Riouffe, of the Duke de Lauzun, of the Comte de Vaublanc, of the Comte de
Ségur, may be mentioned. The unamiable but striking and characteristic
figure of Madame Roland lives in memoirs which are among the most
celebrated of the time. A group of short but striking accounts of eye-
witnesses and narrowly-rescued victims remains to testify to the atrocities
of that Second of September, which some recent historians have striven in
vain to palliate. Many of the men of the Revolution, of the servants of the
Empire and of their wives, have left accounts (of more or less value in point
of matter) of the events of the time, some of which have been only very
recently published. Among these latter special notice is deserved by the
memoirs of Davout, of Madame de Rémusat, and of Count Miot de Melito.
But with few exceptions (those of Madame de Rémusat are perhaps the
principal) none of these memoirs are of great literary importance or interest.
They are often very valuable to the historian, very curious to the student of
manners or the mere seeker after interesting and amusing facts; but no one
of them, named or unnamed, can be said to rank in literary interest with the
work which is so plentiful in the preceding century, and which constitutes
so large a part of that century's claim to a place of first importance in the
history of French literature.
It is otherwise with letters, of which the century
contributes to literature some of the most remarkable Abundance of
which we possess. It is impossible even to give a bare Letter-writers.
list of those which remain from a time when almost every person of quality
knew how to correspond either in the natural or the artificial style; but the
most remarkable (each of which is in its way typical of a group) may be
noticed with some minuteness. Among these the correspondence of Grimm,
though one of the bulkiest and most important, may be dismissed with a
brief reference; for it will be noticed again in the succeeding chapter, and
most of it is not either the work of one man or real correspondence. The
Memoirs, which was written long after date, and is much coloured by
prejudice. The Marquis de Bouillé, whose gallant conduct during the Nancy
mutiny set an example which the nobility of France were unfortunately
slow to follow, and who would have saved Louis XVI. in the Varennes
flight but for ill-luck and the king's incredible folly, has also left memoirs of
value; and so has Dumouriez. The memoirs of Louvet, of Daunou, of
Riouffe, of the Duke de Lauzun, of the Comte de Vaublanc, of the Comte de
Ségur, may be mentioned. The unamiable but striking and characteristic
figure of Madame Roland lives in memoirs which are among the most
celebrated of the time. A group of short but striking accounts of eye-
witnesses and narrowly-rescued victims remains to testify to the atrocities
of that Second of September, which some recent historians have striven in
vain to palliate. Many of the men of the Revolution, of the servants of the
Empire and of their wives, have left accounts (of more or less value in point
of matter) of the events of the time, some of which have been only very
recently published. Among these latter special notice is deserved by the
memoirs of Davout, of Madame de Rémusat, and of Count Miot de Melito.
But with few exceptions (those of Madame de Rémusat are perhaps the
principal) none of these memoirs are of great literary importance or interest.
They are often very valuable to the historian, very curious to the student of
manners or the mere seeker after interesting and amusing facts; but no one
of them, named or unnamed, can be said to rank in literary interest with the
work which is so plentiful in the preceding century, and which constitutes
so large a part of that century's claim to a place of first importance in the
history of French literature.
It is otherwise with letters, of which the century
contributes to literature some of the most remarkable Abundance of
which we possess. It is impossible even to give a bare Letter-writers.
list of those which remain from a time when almost every person of quality
knew how to correspond either in the natural or the artificial style; but the
most remarkable (each of which is in its way typical of a group) may be
noticed with some minuteness. Among these the correspondence of Grimm,
though one of the bulkiest and most important, may be dismissed with a
brief reference; for it will be noticed again in the succeeding chapter, and
most of it is not either the work of one man or real correspondence. The
Page 463
flying sheets which Grimm, largely aided by his complaisant friends, and
especially by Diderot, sent to his august Russian and German
correspondents, were in reality periodical summaries of the state of politics,
society, letters, and art in Paris, not different in subject and style from the
printed newspaper letters of the present day. They form in the aggregate a
very important work, whether looked at from the point of view of history, or
from the point of view of literature; but they are not, properly speaking,
letters. Of the letter-writers proper three women and three men may be
selected,—Mademoiselle Aïssé, Mademoiselle de Lespinasse, and Madame
du Deffand; Voltaire, Diderot, and Galiani.
Mademoiselle Aïssé had a singular history. When a child
she was carried off by Turkish rovers, and sold at Mademoiselle
Constantinople to the French ambassador, M. de Ferriol. Aïssé.
This was at the beginning of the century. Her purchaser had her brought up
carefully at Paris as his property, which no doubt he always considered her.
But in his old age he became childish, and Mademoiselle Aïssé was free to
frequent society to which she had been early introduced. She met and fell in
love with a certain Chevalier d'Aydie, who himself (at a later date, for the
most part,) was a letter-writer of some merit. Her letters to him and of him
constitute her claim to a position in the history of literature. They display
the sensibilité of the time in a decided form, but in a milder one than the
later letters of Mademoiselle de Lespinasse. But there is something in them
more than mere sensibilité—a tender and affectionate spirit finding graceful
expression and deserving a happier fate. Mademoiselle Aïssé, like most
other people of her time, turned devout, but earlier than most. She died in
1733.
Madame du Deffand was a very different person. She
was born in 1697, and she distinguished herself when Madame du
quite a girl, not merely by her beauty, but by her wit and Deffand.
tendency to freethinking. She was married in 1718 to the Marquis du
Deffand, but soon separated from him, and lived for many years the then
usual life of gallantry. This merged insensibly into a life of literary and
philosophical society. Though Madame du Deffand was not, like the
wealthier but more plebeian Madame Geoffrin, and later Madame
Helvétius, a 'nursing mother of the philosophers,' in the sense of supplying
their necessities, her salon in the Rue Saint Dominique was long one of the
especially by Diderot, sent to his august Russian and German
correspondents, were in reality periodical summaries of the state of politics,
society, letters, and art in Paris, not different in subject and style from the
printed newspaper letters of the present day. They form in the aggregate a
very important work, whether looked at from the point of view of history, or
from the point of view of literature; but they are not, properly speaking,
letters. Of the letter-writers proper three women and three men may be
selected,—Mademoiselle Aïssé, Mademoiselle de Lespinasse, and Madame
du Deffand; Voltaire, Diderot, and Galiani.
Mademoiselle Aïssé had a singular history. When a child
she was carried off by Turkish rovers, and sold at Mademoiselle
Constantinople to the French ambassador, M. de Ferriol. Aïssé.
This was at the beginning of the century. Her purchaser had her brought up
carefully at Paris as his property, which no doubt he always considered her.
But in his old age he became childish, and Mademoiselle Aïssé was free to
frequent society to which she had been early introduced. She met and fell in
love with a certain Chevalier d'Aydie, who himself (at a later date, for the
most part,) was a letter-writer of some merit. Her letters to him and of him
constitute her claim to a position in the history of literature. They display
the sensibilité of the time in a decided form, but in a milder one than the
later letters of Mademoiselle de Lespinasse. But there is something in them
more than mere sensibilité—a tender and affectionate spirit finding graceful
expression and deserving a happier fate. Mademoiselle Aïssé, like most
other people of her time, turned devout, but earlier than most. She died in
1733.
Madame du Deffand was a very different person. She
was born in 1697, and she distinguished herself when Madame du
quite a girl, not merely by her beauty, but by her wit and Deffand.
tendency to freethinking. She was married in 1718 to the Marquis du
Deffand, but soon separated from him, and lived for many years the then
usual life of gallantry. This merged insensibly into a life of literary and
philosophical society. Though Madame du Deffand was not, like the
wealthier but more plebeian Madame Geoffrin, and later Madame
Helvétius, a 'nursing mother of the philosophers,' in the sense of supplying
their necessities, her salon in the Rue Saint Dominique was long one of the
Page 464
chief resorts of philosophism. In 1753 she became blind, but this made little
difference in her appetite for society. She lived like many other great ladies
in a monastery. She died in 1780. As a letter-writer Madame du Deffand
was the correspondent of most of the greatest men of letters of the time
(Voltaire, D'Alembert, Hénault, Montesquieu, etc.). But her most
remarkable correspondence, and perhaps her most interesting one, was with
Horace Walpole, the most French of contemporary Englishmen. Their
friendship, for which it is hard to find an exact name, unless, perhaps, it
may be called a kind of passionate community of tastes, belongs to the later
part of her long life. Madame du Deffand is the typical French lady of the
eighteenth century, as Richelieu is the typical grand seigneur. She was
perhaps the wittiest woman (in the strict sense of the adjective) who ever
lived[290], and an astonishingly large proportion of the best sayings of the
time is traced or attributed to her. Nearly seventy years of conversation and
a great correspondence did not exhaust her faculty of acute sallies, of
ruthless criticism, of cynical but clearsighted judgment on men and things.
But she was thoroughly unamiable, purely selfish, jealous, spiteful, destitute
of humour, if full of wit. A comparison with Madame de Sévigné shows
how the French character had, in the upper ranks at least, degenerated (it is
worth remembering that Madame du Deffand was born just after Madame
de Sévigné's death), though it must be admitted that the earlier character
shows perhaps the germs of what is repulsive in the second.
The third most remarkable lady letter-writer of the
century, Mademoiselle de Lespinasse, was closely Mademoiselle de
Lespinasse.
connected with Madame du Deffand. She was indeed
her companion, her coadjutor, and her rival. Julie Jeanne Eléonore de
Lespinasse was in reality the illegitimate daughter of a lady of rank, the
Countess d'Albon, who lived apart from her husband, and the name
Lespinasse was merely a fancy name taken from the D'Albon genealogy.
She was born, or at least baptized, at Lyons on the 19th November, 1732.
Her mother, who practically acknowledged her, died when she was fifteen,
leaving her fairly provided for. But her half-brothers and sisters deprived
her of most of her portion, though for a time they gave her a home. In 1754
Madame du Deffand, to whom she had been recommended, and who had
just been struck with blindness, invited her to come and live with her, which
she did, after some hesitation. For ten years the two presided jointly over
difference in her appetite for society. She lived like many other great ladies
in a monastery. She died in 1780. As a letter-writer Madame du Deffand
was the correspondent of most of the greatest men of letters of the time
(Voltaire, D'Alembert, Hénault, Montesquieu, etc.). But her most
remarkable correspondence, and perhaps her most interesting one, was with
Horace Walpole, the most French of contemporary Englishmen. Their
friendship, for which it is hard to find an exact name, unless, perhaps, it
may be called a kind of passionate community of tastes, belongs to the later
part of her long life. Madame du Deffand is the typical French lady of the
eighteenth century, as Richelieu is the typical grand seigneur. She was
perhaps the wittiest woman (in the strict sense of the adjective) who ever
lived[290], and an astonishingly large proportion of the best sayings of the
time is traced or attributed to her. Nearly seventy years of conversation and
a great correspondence did not exhaust her faculty of acute sallies, of
ruthless criticism, of cynical but clearsighted judgment on men and things.
But she was thoroughly unamiable, purely selfish, jealous, spiteful, destitute
of humour, if full of wit. A comparison with Madame de Sévigné shows
how the French character had, in the upper ranks at least, degenerated (it is
worth remembering that Madame du Deffand was born just after Madame
de Sévigné's death), though it must be admitted that the earlier character
shows perhaps the germs of what is repulsive in the second.
The third most remarkable lady letter-writer of the
century, Mademoiselle de Lespinasse, was closely Mademoiselle de
Lespinasse.
connected with Madame du Deffand. She was indeed
her companion, her coadjutor, and her rival. Julie Jeanne Eléonore de
Lespinasse was in reality the illegitimate daughter of a lady of rank, the
Countess d'Albon, who lived apart from her husband, and the name
Lespinasse was merely a fancy name taken from the D'Albon genealogy.
She was born, or at least baptized, at Lyons on the 19th November, 1732.
Her mother, who practically acknowledged her, died when she was fifteen,
leaving her fairly provided for. But her half-brothers and sisters deprived
her of most of her portion, though for a time they gave her a home. In 1754
Madame du Deffand, to whom she had been recommended, and who had
just been struck with blindness, invited her to come and live with her, which
she did, after some hesitation. For ten years the two presided jointly over
Page 465
their society, but at last Madame du Deffand's jealousy broke out.
Mademoiselle de Lespinasse retired, taking with her not a few of the
habitués of the salon, with D'Alembert at their head. Madame Geoffrin
seems to have endowed her, and she established herself in the Rue de
Bellechasse, where D'Alembert before long came to join her. They lived in
a curious sort of relationship for more than ten years, until Mademoiselle de
Lespinasse died on the 22nd May, 1776. During this time she was a
gracious hostess and a bond of union to many men of letters, especially
those of the younger philosophe school. But this is not what gives her her
place here. Her claim rests upon a collection of love-letters, not addressed
to D'Alembert. She was thirty-four when the earliest of her love affairs
began, and had never been beautiful. When she died she was forty-four, and
her later letters are more passionate than the earlier. Her first lover was a
young Spaniard, the Marquis Gonsalvo de Mora; her second, the Count de
Guibert, a poet and essayist of no great merit, a military reformer said to
have been of some talent, and pretty evidently a bad-hearted coxcomb. To
him the epistles we have are addressed. All the circumstances of these
letters are calculated to make them ridiculous, yet there is hardly any word
which they less deserve. The great defect of the eighteenth century is that its
sensibilité excludes real passion. The men and women of feeling of the
period always seem as if they were playing at feeling; the affairs of the
heart, which occupy so large a place in its literature, show only the progress
of a certain kind of game which has its rules and stages to which the players
must conform, but which, when once over, leaves no more traces than any
other kind of game. To this Mademoiselle de Lespinasse is a conspicuous
exception. It has been said of her that her letters burn the paper they are
written on with the fervency of their sentiment, nor is the expression an
exaggerated one. Except in Rousseau and (in a different form) in Manon
Lescaut, it is in these letters that we must look for almost the only genuine
passion of the time. It is no doubt unreal to a certain degree, morbid also in
an even greater degree as regards what is real in it. But it is in no sense
consciously affected, and conscious affectation was the bane of the period.
The three examples which have been chosen of the
masculine letter-writing of the period are of somewhat Voltaire.
wider range. Mademoiselle Aïssé and Mademoiselle de
Lespinasse show in various forms the amiable weaknesses of womankind,
Mademoiselle de Lespinasse retired, taking with her not a few of the
habitués of the salon, with D'Alembert at their head. Madame Geoffrin
seems to have endowed her, and she established herself in the Rue de
Bellechasse, where D'Alembert before long came to join her. They lived in
a curious sort of relationship for more than ten years, until Mademoiselle de
Lespinasse died on the 22nd May, 1776. During this time she was a
gracious hostess and a bond of union to many men of letters, especially
those of the younger philosophe school. But this is not what gives her her
place here. Her claim rests upon a collection of love-letters, not addressed
to D'Alembert. She was thirty-four when the earliest of her love affairs
began, and had never been beautiful. When she died she was forty-four, and
her later letters are more passionate than the earlier. Her first lover was a
young Spaniard, the Marquis Gonsalvo de Mora; her second, the Count de
Guibert, a poet and essayist of no great merit, a military reformer said to
have been of some talent, and pretty evidently a bad-hearted coxcomb. To
him the epistles we have are addressed. All the circumstances of these
letters are calculated to make them ridiculous, yet there is hardly any word
which they less deserve. The great defect of the eighteenth century is that its
sensibilité excludes real passion. The men and women of feeling of the
period always seem as if they were playing at feeling; the affairs of the
heart, which occupy so large a place in its literature, show only the progress
of a certain kind of game which has its rules and stages to which the players
must conform, but which, when once over, leaves no more traces than any
other kind of game. To this Mademoiselle de Lespinasse is a conspicuous
exception. It has been said of her that her letters burn the paper they are
written on with the fervency of their sentiment, nor is the expression an
exaggerated one. Except in Rousseau and (in a different form) in Manon
Lescaut, it is in these letters that we must look for almost the only genuine
passion of the time. It is no doubt unreal to a certain degree, morbid also in
an even greater degree as regards what is real in it. But it is in no sense
consciously affected, and conscious affectation was the bane of the period.
The three examples which have been chosen of the
masculine letter-writing of the period are of somewhat Voltaire.
wider range. Mademoiselle Aïssé and Mademoiselle de
Lespinasse show in various forms the amiable weaknesses of womankind,
Page 466
Madame du Deffand its unamiable strength. The letters of Voltaire, of
Diderot, and of the Abbé Galiani are not so typical of a sex, but are more
representative of individuals and at the same time of the age. Voltaire's
correspondence is simply enormous in point of bulk. Fresh letters of his are
constantly being discovered and edited even now. His long life, his
extraordinary industry, his position during nearly half a century as first one
of the leading men of letters, and then unquestionably the leading man of
letters of Europe, the curious diversity of his interests, even the prosperity
in point of fortune which made him command the services of secretaries
and under-strappers, while humbler men of letters had to do the mechanical
work of composition for themselves, all contributed to bring about this
fecundity. The consequence is, that not only is the correspondence of
Voltaire of vast extent but it is also of the most various character. We have
from him early love-letters, letters to private friends of all dates, business
letters, literary letters, letters to great persons, letters intended for
publication, letters not intended for publication, flattering letters, insulting
letters, benevolent letters, patronising letters, begging letters, letters of
almost every sort and kind that the ingenuity of human imagination can
conceive or the diversity of human relationships and circumstances require.
Partial critics have contended that the singular quality of Voltaire's genius
might be sufficiently exemplified from his letters, if no other documents
were forthcoming. Without going quite so far as this, it may be allowed that
his correspondence is a remarkable monument of those qualities in
literature which enable a man to express himself happily and rapidly on any
subject that happens to present itself. The letters of Voltaire do not perhaps
supply any ground for disputing Carlyle's sentence on Voltaire (a sentence
which has excited the wrath of French critics) that there is not one great
thought in all his works. But they enable us, even better than any other
division of those works, to appreciate the singular flexibility of his intellect,
the extraordinarily wide range of his interests and sympathies, the practical
talents which accompanied his literary genius.
Diderot's correspondence is also considerable in bulk,
though not in that respect to be compared to Voltaire's. It Diderot.
has several minor divisions, the chief of which is a body
of letters addressed to the sculptor Falconnet in Russia. But the main claim
of this versatile writer and most fertile thinker to rank in this chapter lies in
Diderot, and of the Abbé Galiani are not so typical of a sex, but are more
representative of individuals and at the same time of the age. Voltaire's
correspondence is simply enormous in point of bulk. Fresh letters of his are
constantly being discovered and edited even now. His long life, his
extraordinary industry, his position during nearly half a century as first one
of the leading men of letters, and then unquestionably the leading man of
letters of Europe, the curious diversity of his interests, even the prosperity
in point of fortune which made him command the services of secretaries
and under-strappers, while humbler men of letters had to do the mechanical
work of composition for themselves, all contributed to bring about this
fecundity. The consequence is, that not only is the correspondence of
Voltaire of vast extent but it is also of the most various character. We have
from him early love-letters, letters to private friends of all dates, business
letters, literary letters, letters to great persons, letters intended for
publication, letters not intended for publication, flattering letters, insulting
letters, benevolent letters, patronising letters, begging letters, letters of
almost every sort and kind that the ingenuity of human imagination can
conceive or the diversity of human relationships and circumstances require.
Partial critics have contended that the singular quality of Voltaire's genius
might be sufficiently exemplified from his letters, if no other documents
were forthcoming. Without going quite so far as this, it may be allowed that
his correspondence is a remarkable monument of those qualities in
literature which enable a man to express himself happily and rapidly on any
subject that happens to present itself. The letters of Voltaire do not perhaps
supply any ground for disputing Carlyle's sentence on Voltaire (a sentence
which has excited the wrath of French critics) that there is not one great
thought in all his works. But they enable us, even better than any other
division of those works, to appreciate the singular flexibility of his intellect,
the extraordinarily wide range of his interests and sympathies, the practical
talents which accompanied his literary genius.
Diderot's correspondence is also considerable in bulk,
though not in that respect to be compared to Voltaire's. It Diderot.
has several minor divisions, the chief of which is a body
of letters addressed to the sculptor Falconnet in Russia. But the main claim
of this versatile writer and most fertile thinker to rank in this chapter lies in
Page 467
his letters to Mademoiselle Volland, a lady of mature years, to whom, in his
own middle and old age, he was, after the fashion of the time, much
attached. These letters were not published till forty or fifty years after his
death, and it is not too much to say that they supply not only the most vivid
picture of Diderot himself which is attainable, but also the best view of the
later and extremer philosophe society. Many, if not most of them, are
written from that society's head-quarters, the country house of the Baron
d'Holbach, at Grandval, where Diderot was an ever welcome visitor. This
society had certain drawbacks which made it irksome, not merely to
orthodox and sober persons, but to fastidious judges who were not much
burdened with scruples. Horace Walpole, for instance, found himself bored
by it. But it was the most characteristic society of the time, and Diderot's
letters are the best pictures of it, because, unlike some not dissimilar work,
they unite great vividness and power of description with an obvious absence
of the least design to 'cook,' that is to say, to invent or to disguise facts and
characters. Diderot, who possessed every literary faculty except the faculty
of taking pains and the faculty of adroitly choosing subjects, was marked
out as the describer of such a society as this, where brilliancy was the one
thing never wanting, where eccentricity of act and speech was the rule,
where originals abounded and took care to make the most of their
originality, and where all restraint of convention was deliberately cast aside.
The character and tendencies of this society have been very variously
judged, and there is no need to decide here between the judges further than
to say that, on the whole, the famous essay of Carlyle on Diderot not
inadequately reduces to miniature Diderot's own picture of it. Only the
extremest prejudice can deny the extraordinary merit of that picture itself,
the vividness and effortless effect with which the men and women dealt
with—their doings and their sayings—are presented, the completeness and
dramatic force of the presentation.
The last of the epistolers selected for comment, the Abbé
Galiani, has this peculiarity as distinguished from Galiani.
Voltaire and Diderot, that he is little except a letter-
writer to the present and probably to all future generations of readers. He
will indeed appear again, but his dealings with political economy are of
merely ephemeral interest. Galiani was of a noble Neapolitan family, was
attached to the Neapolitan Legation in Paris, and made himself a darling of
own middle and old age, he was, after the fashion of the time, much
attached. These letters were not published till forty or fifty years after his
death, and it is not too much to say that they supply not only the most vivid
picture of Diderot himself which is attainable, but also the best view of the
later and extremer philosophe society. Many, if not most of them, are
written from that society's head-quarters, the country house of the Baron
d'Holbach, at Grandval, where Diderot was an ever welcome visitor. This
society had certain drawbacks which made it irksome, not merely to
orthodox and sober persons, but to fastidious judges who were not much
burdened with scruples. Horace Walpole, for instance, found himself bored
by it. But it was the most characteristic society of the time, and Diderot's
letters are the best pictures of it, because, unlike some not dissimilar work,
they unite great vividness and power of description with an obvious absence
of the least design to 'cook,' that is to say, to invent or to disguise facts and
characters. Diderot, who possessed every literary faculty except the faculty
of taking pains and the faculty of adroitly choosing subjects, was marked
out as the describer of such a society as this, where brilliancy was the one
thing never wanting, where eccentricity of act and speech was the rule,
where originals abounded and took care to make the most of their
originality, and where all restraint of convention was deliberately cast aside.
The character and tendencies of this society have been very variously
judged, and there is no need to decide here between the judges further than
to say that, on the whole, the famous essay of Carlyle on Diderot not
inadequately reduces to miniature Diderot's own picture of it. Only the
extremest prejudice can deny the extraordinary merit of that picture itself,
the vividness and effortless effect with which the men and women dealt
with—their doings and their sayings—are presented, the completeness and
dramatic force of the presentation.
The last of the epistolers selected for comment, the Abbé
Galiani, has this peculiarity as distinguished from Galiani.
Voltaire and Diderot, that he is little except a letter-
writer to the present and probably to all future generations of readers. He
will indeed appear again, but his dealings with political economy are of
merely ephemeral interest. Galiani was of a noble Neapolitan family, was
attached to the Neapolitan Legation in Paris, and made himself a darling of
Page 468
philosophe society there. When he was recalled to his native country and
endowed with sufficiently lucrative employments, his chief consolation for
the loss of Parisian society was to gather as far as he could a copy of it—
consisting partly of Italians, partly of foreign and especially English visitors
—to Italy, to study classical archæology, in which (and especially in the
department of numismatics) he was an expert, and to write letters to his
French friends. In his long residence at Paris, Galiani had acquired a style
not entirely destitute of Italianisms, but all the more piquant on that
account. His letters were published early in this century, but incompletely
and in a somewhat garbled fashion. They have recently had the benefit of
two different complete editions. They are addressed, the greater part of
them to Madame d'Epinay, and the remainder to various correspondents.
Galiani had the reputation of being one of the best talkers of his time, and
the memoirs and correspondence of his friends (especially Diderot's)
contain many reported sayings of his which amply support the reputation.
Like many famous talkers, he seems to have been not quite so ready with
the pen as with the tongue. But it is only by comparison that his letters can
be depreciated. Less voluminous and manifold than Voltaire, less
picturesque than Diderot, he is a model of general letter-writing. He is also
remarkable as an exponent of the curious feeling of the time towards
religion; a feeling which was prevalent in the cultivated classes (with
certain differences) all over Europe. Galiani was not, like some of his
French friends, a proselytising atheist. He held some ecclesiastical
employments in his own country with decency, and died with all due
attention to the rites of the Church. But it is obvious that he was as little of a
Christian, in any definite sense of the word, as any humanist of the fifteenth
century.
The light thrown in this fashion upon the social, moral, and intellectual
characteristics of the time constitutes the chief value of all its historical
literature, except the great philosophico-historical works of Montesquieu
and Turgot. It has a certain flimsiness about it; it is brilliant journalism
rather than literature properly so called; the dialect in which it is written
wants the gravity and sonorousness, the colour and the poetry, of the
seventeenth and earlier centuries. But it is unmatched in power of social
portraiture. Written, as much of it is, by men of the middle class, and more
of it by men who, from whatever class they sprang, were deeply interested
endowed with sufficiently lucrative employments, his chief consolation for
the loss of Parisian society was to gather as far as he could a copy of it—
consisting partly of Italians, partly of foreign and especially English visitors
—to Italy, to study classical archæology, in which (and especially in the
department of numismatics) he was an expert, and to write letters to his
French friends. In his long residence at Paris, Galiani had acquired a style
not entirely destitute of Italianisms, but all the more piquant on that
account. His letters were published early in this century, but incompletely
and in a somewhat garbled fashion. They have recently had the benefit of
two different complete editions. They are addressed, the greater part of
them to Madame d'Epinay, and the remainder to various correspondents.
Galiani had the reputation of being one of the best talkers of his time, and
the memoirs and correspondence of his friends (especially Diderot's)
contain many reported sayings of his which amply support the reputation.
Like many famous talkers, he seems to have been not quite so ready with
the pen as with the tongue. But it is only by comparison that his letters can
be depreciated. Less voluminous and manifold than Voltaire, less
picturesque than Diderot, he is a model of general letter-writing. He is also
remarkable as an exponent of the curious feeling of the time towards
religion; a feeling which was prevalent in the cultivated classes (with
certain differences) all over Europe. Galiani was not, like some of his
French friends, a proselytising atheist. He held some ecclesiastical
employments in his own country with decency, and died with all due
attention to the rites of the Church. But it is obvious that he was as little of a
Christian, in any definite sense of the word, as any humanist of the fifteenth
century.
The light thrown in this fashion upon the social, moral, and intellectual
characteristics of the time constitutes the chief value of all its historical
literature, except the great philosophico-historical works of Montesquieu
and Turgot. It has a certain flimsiness about it; it is brilliant journalism
rather than literature properly so called; the dialect in which it is written
wants the gravity and sonorousness, the colour and the poetry, of the
seventeenth and earlier centuries. But it is unmatched in power of social
portraiture. Written, as much of it is, by men of the middle class, and more
of it by men who, from whatever class they sprang, were deeply interested
Page 469
in social, economical, and political problems, it is free from that ignoring of
any life and class except that of the nobility which mars much of the work
of earlier times. The picture it gives is very far from being a flattering one.
The nature to which the mirror is held up is in most cases a decidedly
corrupt nature; but the mirror is held frankly, and the reflection is useful to
posterity.
FOOTNOTES:
[289] In studying the history, and especially the memoirs, of the eighteenth
century, the reader is at a disadvantage, inasmuch as the admirable collections of
MM. Buchon, Petitot, Michaud et Poujoulat, etc., do not extend beyond its
earliest years. Their place is very imperfectly supplied by a collection in twenty-
eight small volumes, edited by F. Barrière for MM. Didot. This is useful as far as
it goes, but it is very far from complete; much of it is in extract only, and the
component parts of it are not selected as judiciously as they might be. Separate
editions of the principal memoirs of the century are of course obtainable, and the
number is being constantly increased; but such separate editions are far less
useful than the collections which enable the memoir-writing of France during
five centuries of its history to be studied at an advantage scarcely to be
paralleled in the literature of any other nation.
[290] Her earlier contemporary, Madame de Tencin, is her chief competitor.
any life and class except that of the nobility which mars much of the work
of earlier times. The picture it gives is very far from being a flattering one.
The nature to which the mirror is held up is in most cases a decidedly
corrupt nature; but the mirror is held frankly, and the reflection is useful to
posterity.
FOOTNOTES:
[289] In studying the history, and especially the memoirs, of the eighteenth
century, the reader is at a disadvantage, inasmuch as the admirable collections of
MM. Buchon, Petitot, Michaud et Poujoulat, etc., do not extend beyond its
earliest years. Their place is very imperfectly supplied by a collection in twenty-
eight small volumes, edited by F. Barrière for MM. Didot. This is useful as far as
it goes, but it is very far from complete; much of it is in extract only, and the
component parts of it are not selected as judiciously as they might be. Separate
editions of the principal memoirs of the century are of course obtainable, and the
number is being constantly increased; but such separate editions are far less
useful than the collections which enable the memoir-writing of France during
five centuries of its history to be studied at an advantage scarcely to be
paralleled in the literature of any other nation.
[290] Her earlier contemporary, Madame de Tencin, is her chief competitor.
Page 470
CHAPTER V.
ESSAYISTS, MINOR MORALISTS, CRITICS.
What may be, for want of a better word, called
occasional writing in prose received a considerable Occasional Writing
in the Eighteenth-
development during the eighteenth century. Some of the century. Periodicals.
forms which it had previously taken, the Pensée, the
maxim, and so forth, were less practised, though at the beginning and end
of our present period two remarkable men, Vauvenargues and Joubert,
distinguished themselves in them, and in the form of satirical aphorism
Chamfort and Rivarol, before and during the Revolution, brought them to
great perfection. But it was powerfully encouraged by the institution of
official éloges, pronounced in the French Academy on famous men of the
immediate or remoter past, and of prize essays, subjects for which, in ever
increasing numbers, were proposed, not merely by that body, but by
provincial societies of a similar but humbler kind. More than all this, the
growth of periodical literature, though not exactly rapid, was steady, and
gave opportunity for the cultivation of the two main branches of occasional
writing as it is understood in modern times, namely, social or ethical essays
of the Addisonian kind, and critical studies, literary or other. A great
impetus was given to this by the novelist Prévost, who, after his return from
England, edited, as has been observed, more than one avowed imitation of
the English Spectator and Tatler. At the beginning of the century the chief
place among newspapers was occupied by the Mercure Galant, which had
enjoyed the contempt of La Bruyère, and the management of Visé and
Thomas Corneille. Towards the middle and end of the period, the Gazette
de France, under the management of Suard, held the principal place with a
somewhat higher aim; and of non-official publications the Jesuit Journal de
Trévoux and the anti-philosophe Année Littéraire of Fréron were notable. It
was not till after the beginning of the Revolution that journalism proper
spread and multiplied, and that journalists became a power. A short notice
of the chief of these will be found lower down in this chapter, but a full
history of French journalism is impossible here.
ESSAYISTS, MINOR MORALISTS, CRITICS.
What may be, for want of a better word, called
occasional writing in prose received a considerable Occasional Writing
in the Eighteenth-
development during the eighteenth century. Some of the century. Periodicals.
forms which it had previously taken, the Pensée, the
maxim, and so forth, were less practised, though at the beginning and end
of our present period two remarkable men, Vauvenargues and Joubert,
distinguished themselves in them, and in the form of satirical aphorism
Chamfort and Rivarol, before and during the Revolution, brought them to
great perfection. But it was powerfully encouraged by the institution of
official éloges, pronounced in the French Academy on famous men of the
immediate or remoter past, and of prize essays, subjects for which, in ever
increasing numbers, were proposed, not merely by that body, but by
provincial societies of a similar but humbler kind. More than all this, the
growth of periodical literature, though not exactly rapid, was steady, and
gave opportunity for the cultivation of the two main branches of occasional
writing as it is understood in modern times, namely, social or ethical essays
of the Addisonian kind, and critical studies, literary or other. A great
impetus was given to this by the novelist Prévost, who, after his return from
England, edited, as has been observed, more than one avowed imitation of
the English Spectator and Tatler. At the beginning of the century the chief
place among newspapers was occupied by the Mercure Galant, which had
enjoyed the contempt of La Bruyère, and the management of Visé and
Thomas Corneille. Towards the middle and end of the period, the Gazette
de France, under the management of Suard, held the principal place with a
somewhat higher aim; and of non-official publications the Jesuit Journal de
Trévoux and the anti-philosophe Année Littéraire of Fréron were notable. It
was not till after the beginning of the Revolution that journalism proper
spread and multiplied, and that journalists became a power. A short notice
of the chief of these will be found lower down in this chapter, but a full
history of French journalism is impossible here.
Page 471
The first place in point of time, and not the least in point
of importance, among the occasional writers of the Fontenelle.
eighteenth century, is due to Fontenelle. The personal
name of this curious writer, who is perhaps the most striking example in
literary history of multifarious talent and unwearied industry just stopping
short, despite their combination, of genius, was Bernard le Bovier, and his
mother was a sister of Corneille, whose life Fontenelle himself wrote. He
was educated by the Jesuits and studied for the bar, but was unsuccessful as
an advocate, and soon gave up active practice. He came to Paris very
young, and soon became distinguished, after a fashion, in society and
literature. He was one of the last of the précieux, or rather he was the
inventor of a new combination of literature and gallantry which at first
exposed him to not a little satire. Unfortunately too for him he tried first to
emulate his uncles in the drama, for which he had no talent, and one of his
plays (Aspar), failing completely, gave his enemies abundant opportunity.
No one, however, illustrated better than Fontenelle the saying that 'no man
was ever written down except by himself.' He was the butt of the four most
dangerous satirists of his time—Racine, Boileau, La Bruyère, and J. B.
Rousseau; but though the epigrams which Racine and Rousseau directed
against him are among the best in the language, and though the 'portrait' of
Cydias, in the Caractères, at least equals them, Fontenelle received hardly
any damage from these. Finding that he was not likely to be a successful
dramatic poet, even in opera, he turned to prose, and wrote 'dialogues of the
dead,' in avowed imitation of Lucian, and a kind of romance called 'Lettres
du Chevalier d'Her...,' in which he may be said to have set the example of
the elaborate and rather affected style, afterwards called Marivaudage, from
his most famous pupil. Even here his success was doubtful, and he again
changed his ground. He had paid some attention to science, and he saw that
there was an opening in the growing curiosity of educated people for
scientific popularising. To this and to literary criticism and history he
devoted himself for the remainder of his long life, becoming President of
the Academy of Sciences, and virtual dictator of the Académie Française.
His Éloges and his academic essays generally were highly popular. But his
chief single works are the famous Entretien sur la Pluralité des Mondes, an
example of singularly hardy speculation, and of no contemptible learning,
artfully disguised by an easy style, and his Histoire des Oracles, of which
much the same may be said. With hardly diminished powers Fontenelle
of importance, among the occasional writers of the Fontenelle.
eighteenth century, is due to Fontenelle. The personal
name of this curious writer, who is perhaps the most striking example in
literary history of multifarious talent and unwearied industry just stopping
short, despite their combination, of genius, was Bernard le Bovier, and his
mother was a sister of Corneille, whose life Fontenelle himself wrote. He
was educated by the Jesuits and studied for the bar, but was unsuccessful as
an advocate, and soon gave up active practice. He came to Paris very
young, and soon became distinguished, after a fashion, in society and
literature. He was one of the last of the précieux, or rather he was the
inventor of a new combination of literature and gallantry which at first
exposed him to not a little satire. Unfortunately too for him he tried first to
emulate his uncles in the drama, for which he had no talent, and one of his
plays (Aspar), failing completely, gave his enemies abundant opportunity.
No one, however, illustrated better than Fontenelle the saying that 'no man
was ever written down except by himself.' He was the butt of the four most
dangerous satirists of his time—Racine, Boileau, La Bruyère, and J. B.
Rousseau; but though the epigrams which Racine and Rousseau directed
against him are among the best in the language, and though the 'portrait' of
Cydias, in the Caractères, at least equals them, Fontenelle received hardly
any damage from these. Finding that he was not likely to be a successful
dramatic poet, even in opera, he turned to prose, and wrote 'dialogues of the
dead,' in avowed imitation of Lucian, and a kind of romance called 'Lettres
du Chevalier d'Her...,' in which he may be said to have set the example of
the elaborate and rather affected style, afterwards called Marivaudage, from
his most famous pupil. Even here his success was doubtful, and he again
changed his ground. He had paid some attention to science, and he saw that
there was an opening in the growing curiosity of educated people for
scientific popularising. To this and to literary criticism and history he
devoted himself for the remainder of his long life, becoming President of
the Academy of Sciences, and virtual dictator of the Académie Française.
His Éloges and his academic essays generally were highly popular. But his
chief single works are the famous Entretien sur la Pluralité des Mondes, an
example of singularly hardy speculation, and of no contemptible learning,
artfully disguised by an easy style, and his Histoire des Oracles, of which
much the same may be said. With hardly diminished powers Fontenelle
Page 472
achieved an age not often paralleled in literary history, though his
contemporary, Saint Aulaire, a minor poet, nearly equalled it. He died in his
hundredth year, and almost at the end of it, his long life extending from the
very earliest glories of the Siècle de Louis XIV. to the very hottest period of
the Encyclopædist battle. The singular variety of his works, and his force of
character, disguised under a somewhat frivolous exterior, but enabling him
to live down enmity and ridicule which would have crushed most men,
would of themselves make Fontenelle a remarkable figure in literature. But
his actual work has more merits than that of mere variety. He realised quite
as keenly as his enemy La Bruyère the importance of manner in literature,
though his taste was hardly so pure. If not exactly an original thinker, he
was an acute and comprehensive one, and forestalled most of his
contemporaries in taking the direction consciously which they were
pursuing almost without knowing it. He fully appreciated the value of
paradox as stimulating men's minds and giving flavour to literature; and his
positive wit was very considerable. To not many men are more good
sayings attributed, and the goodness of these is not always verbal only. The
most famous of them, uttered in defence of his peculiar union of heterodoxy
and caution, 'I may have my fist full of truth, and yet only care to open my
little finger,' may be immoral or not, but it expressed very early, and with
singular force, the intellectual attitude of two whole generations.
Inseparable from Fontenelle's name in literary history, as
the two were long closely united in life, is the name of La Motte.
La Motte. La Motte was a much younger man than
Fontenelle, and he died more than thirty years before him, but during the
first thirty years of the century the pair exercised a kind of joint sovereignty
in the Belles Lettres. They revived the quarrel of the ancients and moderns,
inclining to the modern side. But La Motte's translation of Homer, or rather
his adaptation (for he omitted about half), is not of a nature to inspire much
confidence in his ability to judge the matter, though his essays and letters on
the subject are triumphs of ingenious word-fence. Unlike Fontenelle, La
Motte had one considerable dramatic success with the pathetic subject of
Inès de Castro, and his fables are not devoid of merit. It was, however, as a
prose writer of the occasional kind, and especially as a paradoxical essayist,
that he earned and deserved most fame, his prose style being superior to
Fontenelle's own.
contemporary, Saint Aulaire, a minor poet, nearly equalled it. He died in his
hundredth year, and almost at the end of it, his long life extending from the
very earliest glories of the Siècle de Louis XIV. to the very hottest period of
the Encyclopædist battle. The singular variety of his works, and his force of
character, disguised under a somewhat frivolous exterior, but enabling him
to live down enmity and ridicule which would have crushed most men,
would of themselves make Fontenelle a remarkable figure in literature. But
his actual work has more merits than that of mere variety. He realised quite
as keenly as his enemy La Bruyère the importance of manner in literature,
though his taste was hardly so pure. If not exactly an original thinker, he
was an acute and comprehensive one, and forestalled most of his
contemporaries in taking the direction consciously which they were
pursuing almost without knowing it. He fully appreciated the value of
paradox as stimulating men's minds and giving flavour to literature; and his
positive wit was very considerable. To not many men are more good
sayings attributed, and the goodness of these is not always verbal only. The
most famous of them, uttered in defence of his peculiar union of heterodoxy
and caution, 'I may have my fist full of truth, and yet only care to open my
little finger,' may be immoral or not, but it expressed very early, and with
singular force, the intellectual attitude of two whole generations.
Inseparable from Fontenelle's name in literary history, as
the two were long closely united in life, is the name of La Motte.
La Motte. La Motte was a much younger man than
Fontenelle, and he died more than thirty years before him, but during the
first thirty years of the century the pair exercised a kind of joint sovereignty
in the Belles Lettres. They revived the quarrel of the ancients and moderns,
inclining to the modern side. But La Motte's translation of Homer, or rather
his adaptation (for he omitted about half), is not of a nature to inspire much
confidence in his ability to judge the matter, though his essays and letters on
the subject are triumphs of ingenious word-fence. Unlike Fontenelle, La
Motte had one considerable dramatic success with the pathetic subject of
Inès de Castro, and his fables are not devoid of merit. It was, however, as a
prose writer of the occasional kind, and especially as a paradoxical essayist,
that he earned and deserved most fame, his prose style being superior to
Fontenelle's own.
Page 473
The next name deserving of mention belongs to a very
different writer. Luc de Clapiers, Marquis de Vauvenargues.
Vauvenargues, covered in his brief space of life not a
third of the period allotted to Fontenelle, who was nearly sixty when
Vauvenargues was born, and outlived him ten years. Nor did he leave any
single work of consequence. Yet his scanty writings are far more valuable in
matter, if not in form, than those of the witty centenarian. Vauvenargues
was born at Aix, in Provence, on the 6th of August, 1715. His family was
ancient and honourable, but appears to have been poor, and his education
was interrupted by the bad health which continued throughout his short life.
Nevertheless he entered the army at the age of eighteen. After this he had
scanty opportunities of study, and it is said that he was ignorant not only of
Greek but even of Latin. He served at first in Italy, and then for some years
was employed on garrison duty. At the outbreak of the war of the Austrian
succession his regiment was sent into Germany, and he had a full share of
the hardships of the Bohemian campaign. No promotion came to him, his
means were almost exhausted, and in 1744 he resigned his commission,
after taking the curiously unworldly step of writing directly to the king,
asking for a place in the diplomatic service. An application to the minister
of foreign affairs was not much more successful, and Vauvenargues, whose
evil star pursued him, had no sooner established himself with his family
than a bad attack of small-pox destroyed the little health he still had. He set
to work, however, to write, and in the short time before his death actually
published some of his works, and left others in a condition ready for
publication. He lived in Paris for the last three years of his life, and died in
1747, at the age of thirty-two. Latterly he had made acquaintance with
Voltaire, who entertained a very high and generous opinion of his talents,
due perhaps partly to the remarkable difference of their respective
characters and points of view. Vauvenargues' principal work is an
Introduction à la Connoissance de l'Esprit Humain, besides which he left a
considerable number of maxims, reflections, etc., on points of ethics and of
literary criticism. In the last part of his work there is more curiosity than
instruction. It is, however, in its way an instructive thing to see that a man
of talent and even of genius could object to Molière for having chosen des
sujets trop bas, while he speaks of Boileau in the most enthusiastic terms.
The truth (and in the history of literature it is a very important truth) is that
Vauvenargues was too little versed in any language but his own to have the
different writer. Luc de Clapiers, Marquis de Vauvenargues.
Vauvenargues, covered in his brief space of life not a
third of the period allotted to Fontenelle, who was nearly sixty when
Vauvenargues was born, and outlived him ten years. Nor did he leave any
single work of consequence. Yet his scanty writings are far more valuable in
matter, if not in form, than those of the witty centenarian. Vauvenargues
was born at Aix, in Provence, on the 6th of August, 1715. His family was
ancient and honourable, but appears to have been poor, and his education
was interrupted by the bad health which continued throughout his short life.
Nevertheless he entered the army at the age of eighteen. After this he had
scanty opportunities of study, and it is said that he was ignorant not only of
Greek but even of Latin. He served at first in Italy, and then for some years
was employed on garrison duty. At the outbreak of the war of the Austrian
succession his regiment was sent into Germany, and he had a full share of
the hardships of the Bohemian campaign. No promotion came to him, his
means were almost exhausted, and in 1744 he resigned his commission,
after taking the curiously unworldly step of writing directly to the king,
asking for a place in the diplomatic service. An application to the minister
of foreign affairs was not much more successful, and Vauvenargues, whose
evil star pursued him, had no sooner established himself with his family
than a bad attack of small-pox destroyed the little health he still had. He set
to work, however, to write, and in the short time before his death actually
published some of his works, and left others in a condition ready for
publication. He lived in Paris for the last three years of his life, and died in
1747, at the age of thirty-two. Latterly he had made acquaintance with
Voltaire, who entertained a very high and generous opinion of his talents,
due perhaps partly to the remarkable difference of their respective
characters and points of view. Vauvenargues' principal work is an
Introduction à la Connoissance de l'Esprit Humain, besides which he left a
considerable number of maxims, reflections, etc., on points of ethics and of
literary criticism. In the last part of his work there is more curiosity than
instruction. It is, however, in its way an instructive thing to see that a man
of talent and even of genius could object to Molière for having chosen des
sujets trop bas, while he speaks of Boileau in the most enthusiastic terms.
The truth (and in the history of literature it is a very important truth) is that
Vauvenargues was too little versed in any language but his own to have the
Page 474
requisite range of comparison necessary for literary criticism, and that his
real interest in literature was almost entirely proportioned to its bearing
upon conduct. His maxims, his Connoissance de l'Esprit, his Conseils à un
Jeune Homme, etc., are all occupied almost entirely with questions of
morality. Vauvenargues (and in this he was remarkable) stood entirely aloof
from the sceptical movement of his age. There was, indeed, a certain
scepticism in him, as in almost all thinkers, but it was of the stamp of
Pascal's, not in the least mocking or polemical, and even, as compared with
Pascal's own, much less strictly theological. In most of his writings he
shows himself an earnest and upright man, profoundly convinced of the
importance of right conduct, gifted with an acute perception of its usual
moving springs and directions, not remarkable for humour or poetical
feeling, but serious, sober, and a little stoical. His literary characteristics
reflect some of these peculiarities, and also betray something of his
neglected education. He is never slovenly in thought, but he sometimes
shocked the exact verbal critics of the eighteenth century by such phrases as
'les sens sont flattés d'agir, de galoper un cheval,' whereupon his censor
annotates 'négligé. Les sens ne galopent pas un cheval.' A more serious fault
is that, in his shorter maxims especially, he does not observe the rule of
absolute lucidity which La Rochefoucauld, who was as much his model in
point of style as he was his opposite in general views, never breaks through.
His sayings (it is a merit as well as a drawback) are often rather suggestive
than expressive; they remind the reader of his own curious comparison of
Corneille with Racine, 'les héros de Corneille disent souvent de grandes
choses sans les inspirer; ceux de Racine les inspirent sans les dire.'
Contemporary with Fontenelle and La Motte was the
Chancellor D'Aguesseau, one of the most prominent D'Aguesseau.
figures of the earlier reign of Louis XV., a steady
defender of orthodoxy—yet, as was seen in the case of the Encyclopædia,
willing to assist enlightenment—a man of irreproachable character, and a
writer of some merit. D'Aguesseau was born in 1668, and died in 1751. He
early received considerable preferment in the law, and held the seals at
intervals for the greater part of the last thirty years of his life. He was a
defender of Gallicanism—indeed, he was suspected of Jansenist leanings—
and a man of great benevolence in private life. His legal and historical
learning was immense, and he was not without some tincture of science. He
real interest in literature was almost entirely proportioned to its bearing
upon conduct. His maxims, his Connoissance de l'Esprit, his Conseils à un
Jeune Homme, etc., are all occupied almost entirely with questions of
morality. Vauvenargues (and in this he was remarkable) stood entirely aloof
from the sceptical movement of his age. There was, indeed, a certain
scepticism in him, as in almost all thinkers, but it was of the stamp of
Pascal's, not in the least mocking or polemical, and even, as compared with
Pascal's own, much less strictly theological. In most of his writings he
shows himself an earnest and upright man, profoundly convinced of the
importance of right conduct, gifted with an acute perception of its usual
moving springs and directions, not remarkable for humour or poetical
feeling, but serious, sober, and a little stoical. His literary characteristics
reflect some of these peculiarities, and also betray something of his
neglected education. He is never slovenly in thought, but he sometimes
shocked the exact verbal critics of the eighteenth century by such phrases as
'les sens sont flattés d'agir, de galoper un cheval,' whereupon his censor
annotates 'négligé. Les sens ne galopent pas un cheval.' A more serious fault
is that, in his shorter maxims especially, he does not observe the rule of
absolute lucidity which La Rochefoucauld, who was as much his model in
point of style as he was his opposite in general views, never breaks through.
His sayings (it is a merit as well as a drawback) are often rather suggestive
than expressive; they remind the reader of his own curious comparison of
Corneille with Racine, 'les héros de Corneille disent souvent de grandes
choses sans les inspirer; ceux de Racine les inspirent sans les dire.'
Contemporary with Fontenelle and La Motte was the
Chancellor D'Aguesseau, one of the most prominent D'Aguesseau.
figures of the earlier reign of Louis XV., a steady
defender of orthodoxy—yet, as was seen in the case of the Encyclopædia,
willing to assist enlightenment—a man of irreproachable character, and a
writer of some merit. D'Aguesseau was born in 1668, and died in 1751. He
early received considerable preferment in the law, and held the seals at
intervals for the greater part of the last thirty years of his life. He was a
defender of Gallicanism—indeed, he was suspected of Jansenist leanings—
and a man of great benevolence in private life. His legal and historical
learning was immense, and he was not without some tincture of science. He
Page 475
deserves a place here chiefly for his speeches on public occasions, which
were in effect elaborate moral essays. An important part of them consists of
what were called Mercuriales (that is to say, discourses pronounced on
certain Wednesdays (Die Mercurii) by the first president of the Parliament
of Paris) on the abuses of the day, the duties of judges, the nature of justice,
and similar subjects.
Another writer, who has been mentioned more than once
before, held somewhat aloof from the Encyclopædists, Duclos.
though he was not, like D'Aguesseau, definitely
orthodox, or, like Vauvenargues, severely moral. Charles Pinaud Duclos
was one of the most miscellaneous of the miscellaneous writers of the time.
He held the office of historiographer royal, and produced some remarkable
works of the historical kind, one of which has been noticed. He composed
novels in a fanciful style midway between Crébillon and Marivaux. He also
wrote on grammar, but some of his best work consists of short academic
essays, and of a moral study called Considérations sur les Mœurs de Notre
Temps, which is both well written and shows discernment. Duclos' character
has been somewhat variously represented, but the unfavourable reports
(which are in the minority) may probably be traced to the studied
brusqueness of his manners, and to his unwillingness to make common
cause with the philosophe coterie, though, if some stories are to be believed,
he often conversed and argued quite in their style.
Yet another typical figure of the same numerous class is
Jean François Marmontel, one of the most eminent Marmontel.
professional men of letters of the second class.
Marmontel's moral tales, his Bélisaire, and his plays have already been
noticed, but his main place in literature is that of a journalist and critic. He
was born at Bort, in the district of Limoges, in 1723, and obtained some
provincial reputation in letters. Introduced to Voltaire in 1746, he began as a
dramatist, and, after some failures, acquired the protection of Madame de
Pompadour. He was made editor of the Mercure, which gave him an
influential position and a competence. He afterwards succeeded Duclos as
historiographer, notwithstanding the outcry which had been made against
his Bélisaire. He had contributed almost all the minor articles on literary
subjects to the Encyclopædia, and these were collected and published as
Éléments de Littérature in 1787. He died in 1799. The Éléments de
were in effect elaborate moral essays. An important part of them consists of
what were called Mercuriales (that is to say, discourses pronounced on
certain Wednesdays (Die Mercurii) by the first president of the Parliament
of Paris) on the abuses of the day, the duties of judges, the nature of justice,
and similar subjects.
Another writer, who has been mentioned more than once
before, held somewhat aloof from the Encyclopædists, Duclos.
though he was not, like D'Aguesseau, definitely
orthodox, or, like Vauvenargues, severely moral. Charles Pinaud Duclos
was one of the most miscellaneous of the miscellaneous writers of the time.
He held the office of historiographer royal, and produced some remarkable
works of the historical kind, one of which has been noticed. He composed
novels in a fanciful style midway between Crébillon and Marivaux. He also
wrote on grammar, but some of his best work consists of short academic
essays, and of a moral study called Considérations sur les Mœurs de Notre
Temps, which is both well written and shows discernment. Duclos' character
has been somewhat variously represented, but the unfavourable reports
(which are in the minority) may probably be traced to the studied
brusqueness of his manners, and to his unwillingness to make common
cause with the philosophe coterie, though, if some stories are to be believed,
he often conversed and argued quite in their style.
Yet another typical figure of the same numerous class is
Jean François Marmontel, one of the most eminent Marmontel.
professional men of letters of the second class.
Marmontel's moral tales, his Bélisaire, and his plays have already been
noticed, but his main place in literature is that of a journalist and critic. He
was born at Bort, in the district of Limoges, in 1723, and obtained some
provincial reputation in letters. Introduced to Voltaire in 1746, he began as a
dramatist, and, after some failures, acquired the protection of Madame de
Pompadour. He was made editor of the Mercure, which gave him an
influential position and a competence. He afterwards succeeded Duclos as
historiographer, notwithstanding the outcry which had been made against
his Bélisaire. He had contributed almost all the minor articles on literary
subjects to the Encyclopædia, and these were collected and published as
Éléments de Littérature in 1787. He died in 1799. The Éléments de
Page 476
Littérature are, with the Cours de Littérature of La Harpe, the chief source
of information as to eighteenth-century criticism of the fashionable kind in
France. They are very voluminous, and, from the circumstances of their
original form, deal with a vast number of subjects. The style is for the most
part simple and good, destitute alike of the dryness and of the bombast
which were the two faults of contemporary writing. But Marmontel's
system of criticism will not bear a moment's examination. It consists simply
in the assumption that Racine, Boileau (though he was at first recalcitrant to
Boileau, and had to be admonished by Voltaire that ça porte malheur), and
their contemporaries are infallible models, and in the application of this
principle to all other nations. The passion for finding plausible general
reasons also leads Marmontel into grotesque aberrations, as where he gives
three reasons for English success in poetry as contrasted with our inferiority
in the other arts. First, Englishmen, loving glory, saw early that poetry
acquired glory for a nation. Secondly, being naturally given to sadness and
meditation, they wish for emotions to distract and move them. Thirdly, their
genius is proper to poetry. This last remark, the reader should observe,
comes from a countryman of Molière, a man who must have read the
Malade Imaginaire, and who was moreover a man of much more than
ordinary talent. Marmontel often has acute remarks, and his blunders and
absurdities are rather symptomatic of the false state in which criticism was
at the time than of individual shortcomings.
Somewhat younger than Marmontel was La Harpe, who
pursued the same lines of dramatic poetry and literary La Harpe.
criticism, the latter with more success in his kind, so
much so, that Malherbe, Boileau, and he may be ranked together as the
three representatives of the infancy, flourishing, and decadence of the
'classical' theory of literary criticism in France. La Harpe was born at Paris
in 1739, was brought up by charity, gained a reputation as a brilliant
exhibitioner at the Collége d'Harcourt, and, after the mishap of being
imprisoned for a libel, obtained new success at the Academy competitions.
He acquired the favour of Voltaire, and fairly launched himself in literature.
For many years he furnished tragedies to the stage, and criticised the
literary work of others with a singular mixture of acuteness, pedantry, and
ill-temper. He was converted from Republicanism by an imprisonment
during the Terror, and became a violent conservative and defender of
of information as to eighteenth-century criticism of the fashionable kind in
France. They are very voluminous, and, from the circumstances of their
original form, deal with a vast number of subjects. The style is for the most
part simple and good, destitute alike of the dryness and of the bombast
which were the two faults of contemporary writing. But Marmontel's
system of criticism will not bear a moment's examination. It consists simply
in the assumption that Racine, Boileau (though he was at first recalcitrant to
Boileau, and had to be admonished by Voltaire that ça porte malheur), and
their contemporaries are infallible models, and in the application of this
principle to all other nations. The passion for finding plausible general
reasons also leads Marmontel into grotesque aberrations, as where he gives
three reasons for English success in poetry as contrasted with our inferiority
in the other arts. First, Englishmen, loving glory, saw early that poetry
acquired glory for a nation. Secondly, being naturally given to sadness and
meditation, they wish for emotions to distract and move them. Thirdly, their
genius is proper to poetry. This last remark, the reader should observe,
comes from a countryman of Molière, a man who must have read the
Malade Imaginaire, and who was moreover a man of much more than
ordinary talent. Marmontel often has acute remarks, and his blunders and
absurdities are rather symptomatic of the false state in which criticism was
at the time than of individual shortcomings.
Somewhat younger than Marmontel was La Harpe, who
pursued the same lines of dramatic poetry and literary La Harpe.
criticism, the latter with more success in his kind, so
much so, that Malherbe, Boileau, and he may be ranked together as the
three representatives of the infancy, flourishing, and decadence of the
'classical' theory of literary criticism in France. La Harpe was born at Paris
in 1739, was brought up by charity, gained a reputation as a brilliant
exhibitioner at the Collége d'Harcourt, and, after the mishap of being
imprisoned for a libel, obtained new success at the Academy competitions.
He acquired the favour of Voltaire, and fairly launched himself in literature.
For many years he furnished tragedies to the stage, and criticised the
literary work of others with a singular mixture of acuteness, pedantry, and
ill-temper. He was converted from Republicanism by an imprisonment
during the Terror, and became a violent conservative and defender of
Page 477
orthodoxy. He died in 1803. His principal critical work is his Cours de
Littérature, which was the work chiefly of his later days. La Harpe had very
considerable talent, which was however warped by the false and narrow
system of criticism he adopted, and by his personal ill-temper and
overbearing disposition. He is even more than Boileau the type of the
schoolmaster-critic, who marks passages for correction according to cut-
and-dried rules instead of attempting to judge the author according to his
own standard. Yet, if he is the most typical example of the school, he is also
perhaps the best. In dealing with authors of his own century, he is especially
worthy of attention, because for the most part they themselves had before
them the standards which he used, and his method is therefore relevant as
far as it goes. La Harpe wrote well in the fashion of his day.
With Duclos, Marmontel, and La Harpe, Thomas is
usually named. This writer, like others of our present Thomas.
subjects, was chiefly a composer of academic Éloges,
Mémoires, Discours, and the like. He also wrote a book on Les Femmes, a
subject which he treated, as he did most things, with seriousness, and with a
mixture of declamation and sentimentality. His literary value is but small.
Of the definitely orthodox party only two names need be
mentioned, that of the Abbé Guénée, who devoted Orthodox
himself to exposing Voltaire's numerous slips in Apologists.
erudition in his Lettres de Quelques Juifs, and that of the Abbé Bergier, who
is chiefly noteworthy as having held the singular post of official refuter of
the Encyclopædists, in virtue of which appointment he received two
thousand livres per annum from the General Assembly of the clergy for
sixteen years. He wrote with assiduity, but was not read, and three years
before the Revolution he lost his annuity, which the Assembly struck off.
Bergier was a man of learning, industry, and good faith, but unfortunately
he did not possess sufficient literary talent to execute the task entrusted to
him. The Abbé Guénée, on the contrary, was a fair match even for Voltaire,
but he did not attempt, perhaps it was too early to attempt, anything more
than skirmishing.
A bitter personal opponent of La Harpe, and a famous
man in literary history, was Fréron. Elie Catherine Fréron.
Fréron was born at Quimper in Britanny in 1719, and
Littérature, which was the work chiefly of his later days. La Harpe had very
considerable talent, which was however warped by the false and narrow
system of criticism he adopted, and by his personal ill-temper and
overbearing disposition. He is even more than Boileau the type of the
schoolmaster-critic, who marks passages for correction according to cut-
and-dried rules instead of attempting to judge the author according to his
own standard. Yet, if he is the most typical example of the school, he is also
perhaps the best. In dealing with authors of his own century, he is especially
worthy of attention, because for the most part they themselves had before
them the standards which he used, and his method is therefore relevant as
far as it goes. La Harpe wrote well in the fashion of his day.
With Duclos, Marmontel, and La Harpe, Thomas is
usually named. This writer, like others of our present Thomas.
subjects, was chiefly a composer of academic Éloges,
Mémoires, Discours, and the like. He also wrote a book on Les Femmes, a
subject which he treated, as he did most things, with seriousness, and with a
mixture of declamation and sentimentality. His literary value is but small.
Of the definitely orthodox party only two names need be
mentioned, that of the Abbé Guénée, who devoted Orthodox
himself to exposing Voltaire's numerous slips in Apologists.
erudition in his Lettres de Quelques Juifs, and that of the Abbé Bergier, who
is chiefly noteworthy as having held the singular post of official refuter of
the Encyclopædists, in virtue of which appointment he received two
thousand livres per annum from the General Assembly of the clergy for
sixteen years. He wrote with assiduity, but was not read, and three years
before the Revolution he lost his annuity, which the Assembly struck off.
Bergier was a man of learning, industry, and good faith, but unfortunately
he did not possess sufficient literary talent to execute the task entrusted to
him. The Abbé Guénée, on the contrary, was a fair match even for Voltaire,
but he did not attempt, perhaps it was too early to attempt, anything more
than skirmishing.
A bitter personal opponent of La Harpe, and a famous
man in literary history, was Fréron. Elie Catherine Fréron.
Fréron was born at Quimper in Britanny in 1719, and
Page 478
was educated by the Jesuits. He began a critical journal when he was only
seven-and-twenty, under the title (not so strange then as now) of Lettres de
Madame la Comtesse de.... But he had already contributed to the
Observations and Jugements of Desfontaines. The Lettres were suppressed
in 1749, but continued under another title, and at last, in 1754, became the
celebrated Année Littéraire, which for twenty years was full of gall and
wormwood for Voltaire and all his partisans. Voltaire was never slow to
retaliate in such matters, and his retorts culminated in the play of
L'Écossaise, in which Fréron was caricatured under the title Frélon (hornet).
Every effort was made by the Encyclopædists (who were not in the least
tolerant in practice) to procure the suppression of the Année. But Fréron had
solid supports in high places and held on gallantly. It is said that his death,
in 1776, was caused by a report that the suppression had been at last
obtained. He certainly suffered both from gout and from heart disease,
complaints not unlikely to make a sudden shock fatal. Fréron, like his
English prototype John Dennis, has had the disadvantage that his
adversaries were numerous, witty, not too scrupulous, and on the winning
side. His personal character seems to have been none of the most amiable.
But he was more frequently right than wrong in his criticisms on detached
points, and his literary standards were decidedly higher and better than
those of his enemies. He had moreover abundant wit and an imperturbable
temper, which enabled him to turn the laugh against Voltaire in his criticism
of the first representation of L'Écossaise itself.
Two other adversaries of Voltaire who deserve notice as literary critics were
the Abbé Desfontaines (already mentioned) and Palissot. Desfontaines was
a man of doubtful character; but it is not certain that he was in the wrong in
the dispute which changed him from a friend into an enemy of Voltaire,
and, like Fréron, he very frequently hit blots both in the patriarch's works
and in those of his disciples. Palissot was the author of a play called Les
Philosophes, an Écossaise on the other side, in which Rousseau, Diderot,
and others were outrageously ridiculed. There was no great merit in this, but
Palissot was not a bad critic in some ways, and his notes on French classics,
especially Corneille, frequently show much greater taste than those of most
contemporary annotators.
The leaders of the philosophes themselves gave considerable attention to
criticism. Voltaire wrote this, as he wrote everything, his principal critical
seven-and-twenty, under the title (not so strange then as now) of Lettres de
Madame la Comtesse de.... But he had already contributed to the
Observations and Jugements of Desfontaines. The Lettres were suppressed
in 1749, but continued under another title, and at last, in 1754, became the
celebrated Année Littéraire, which for twenty years was full of gall and
wormwood for Voltaire and all his partisans. Voltaire was never slow to
retaliate in such matters, and his retorts culminated in the play of
L'Écossaise, in which Fréron was caricatured under the title Frélon (hornet).
Every effort was made by the Encyclopædists (who were not in the least
tolerant in practice) to procure the suppression of the Année. But Fréron had
solid supports in high places and held on gallantly. It is said that his death,
in 1776, was caused by a report that the suppression had been at last
obtained. He certainly suffered both from gout and from heart disease,
complaints not unlikely to make a sudden shock fatal. Fréron, like his
English prototype John Dennis, has had the disadvantage that his
adversaries were numerous, witty, not too scrupulous, and on the winning
side. His personal character seems to have been none of the most amiable.
But he was more frequently right than wrong in his criticisms on detached
points, and his literary standards were decidedly higher and better than
those of his enemies. He had moreover abundant wit and an imperturbable
temper, which enabled him to turn the laugh against Voltaire in his criticism
of the first representation of L'Écossaise itself.
Two other adversaries of Voltaire who deserve notice as literary critics were
the Abbé Desfontaines (already mentioned) and Palissot. Desfontaines was
a man of doubtful character; but it is not certain that he was in the wrong in
the dispute which changed him from a friend into an enemy of Voltaire,
and, like Fréron, he very frequently hit blots both in the patriarch's works
and in those of his disciples. Palissot was the author of a play called Les
Philosophes, an Écossaise on the other side, in which Rousseau, Diderot,
and others were outrageously ridiculed. There was no great merit in this, but
Palissot was not a bad critic in some ways, and his notes on French classics,
especially Corneille, frequently show much greater taste than those of most
contemporary annotators.
The leaders of the philosophes themselves gave considerable attention to
criticism. Voltaire wrote this, as he wrote everything, his principal critical
Page 479
work being his Commentary on Corneille, in which the
constraint of general dramatic and poetic theory which Philosophe
Criticism.
the critic imposes on himself, and the merely D'Alembert,
conventional opinions in which he too often indulges, do Diderot.
not interfere with much acute criticism on points of
detail. D'Alembert distinguished himself by his Les Feuilles de
extraordinarily careful and polished Éloges, or obituary Grimm.
notices, which remain among the finest examples of
critical appreciation of a certain kind to be found in Diderot's Salons
literature. Although he did not definitely attempt a new
theory of criticism, D'Alembert's vigorous intellect and His General
unbiassed judgment enabled him to estimate authors so Criticism.
different as (for instance) Massillon and Marivaux with
singular felicity. But the greatest of the Encyclopædists in this respect was
unquestionably Diderot. While his contemporaries, bent on innovation in
politics and religion, accepted without doubt or complaint the narrowest,
most conventional, and most unnatural system of literary criticism ever
known, he, in his hurried and haphazard but masterly way, practically
anticipated the views and even many of the dicta of the Romantic school.
Most of Diderot's criticisms were written for Grimm's 'Leaves,' which thus
acquired a value entirely different from and far superior to any that their
nominal author could give them. Some of these short notices of current
literature are among the finest examples of the review properly so called,
though in point of mere literary style and expression they constantly suffer
from Diderot's hurried way of setting down the first thing that came into his
head in the first words that presented themselves to clothe it. But
everywhere there is to be perceived the cardinal principle of sound criticism
—that a book is to be judged, not according to arbitrary rules laid down ex
cathedra for the class of books to which it is supposed to belong, but
according to the scheme of its author in the first place, and in the second to
the general laws of æsthetics; a science which, if the Germans named it,
Diderot, by their own confession, did much to create. Even more
remarkable in this respect than his book-criticisms are his Salons, criticisms
of the biennial exhibitions of pictures in Paris, also written for Grimm.
There are nine of these, ranging over a period of twenty-two years, and they
have served as models for more than a century. Diderot did not adopt the
old plan (as old as the Greeks) of mere description more or less elaborate of
constraint of general dramatic and poetic theory which Philosophe
Criticism.
the critic imposes on himself, and the merely D'Alembert,
conventional opinions in which he too often indulges, do Diderot.
not interfere with much acute criticism on points of
detail. D'Alembert distinguished himself by his Les Feuilles de
extraordinarily careful and polished Éloges, or obituary Grimm.
notices, which remain among the finest examples of
critical appreciation of a certain kind to be found in Diderot's Salons
literature. Although he did not definitely attempt a new
theory of criticism, D'Alembert's vigorous intellect and His General
unbiassed judgment enabled him to estimate authors so Criticism.
different as (for instance) Massillon and Marivaux with
singular felicity. But the greatest of the Encyclopædists in this respect was
unquestionably Diderot. While his contemporaries, bent on innovation in
politics and religion, accepted without doubt or complaint the narrowest,
most conventional, and most unnatural system of literary criticism ever
known, he, in his hurried and haphazard but masterly way, practically
anticipated the views and even many of the dicta of the Romantic school.
Most of Diderot's criticisms were written for Grimm's 'Leaves,' which thus
acquired a value entirely different from and far superior to any that their
nominal author could give them. Some of these short notices of current
literature are among the finest examples of the review properly so called,
though in point of mere literary style and expression they constantly suffer
from Diderot's hurried way of setting down the first thing that came into his
head in the first words that presented themselves to clothe it. But
everywhere there is to be perceived the cardinal principle of sound criticism
—that a book is to be judged, not according to arbitrary rules laid down ex
cathedra for the class of books to which it is supposed to belong, but
according to the scheme of its author in the first place, and in the second to
the general laws of æsthetics; a science which, if the Germans named it,
Diderot, by their own confession, did much to create. Even more
remarkable in this respect than his book-criticisms are his Salons, criticisms
of the biennial exhibitions of pictures in Paris, also written for Grimm.
There are nine of these, ranging over a period of twenty-two years, and they
have served as models for more than a century. Diderot did not adopt the
old plan (as old as the Greeks) of mere description more or less elaborate of
Page 480
the picture, nor the plan of dilating on its merely technical characteristics,
though, assisted by artist friends, he managed to introduce a fair amount of
technicalities into his writing. His method is to take in the impression
produced by the painting on his mind, and to reproduce it with the
associations and suggestions it has supplied. Thus his criticisms are often
extremely discursive, and some of his most valuable reflections on matters
at first sight quite remote from the fine arts occur in these Salons. Of drama
Diderot had a formal theory which he illustrated by examples not quite so
happy as his precepts. This theory involved the practical substitution of
what is called in French drame for the conventional tragedy and comedy,
and it brought the French theatre (or would have brought it if it had been
adopted, which it was not until 1830) much nearer to the English than it had
been. Diderot was moreover an enthusiastic admirer of English novels, and
especially of Richardson and Sterne, partly no doubt because the
sentimentalism which characterised them coincided with his own
sensibilité, but also (it is fair to believe) because of their freedom from the
artificiality and the strict observance of models which pervaded all branches
of literature in France. Of poetry proper we have little formal criticism from
Diderot. His own verses are few, and of no merit, nor was the poetry of the
time at all calculated to excite any enthusiasm in him. But the æsthetic
tendency which in other ways he expressed, and which he was the first to
express, was that which, some forty years after his death, brought about the
revival of poetry in France, through recurrence to nature, passion, truth,
vividness, and variety of sentiment.
So long as the old régime lasted journalism was
naturally in a condition of suppression, but from the Newspapers of the
beginning of the Revolution it assumed at once an Revolution.
important position in the state, and a position still more
important as a nursery of rising men of letters. At the The Influence of
Journalism.
time of the outbreak only two papers of importance
existed, the already mentioned Gazette de France, and the Journal de Paris,
in which Garat, André Chénier, Roucher, and many other men of
distinction, won their spurs. 1789, however, saw the birth of numerous
sheets, some of which continued almost till our own days. The most
important was the Gazette Nationale or Moniteur Universel, in which not
merely Garat and La Harpe, but Ginguené, a literary critic of talent and a
though, assisted by artist friends, he managed to introduce a fair amount of
technicalities into his writing. His method is to take in the impression
produced by the painting on his mind, and to reproduce it with the
associations and suggestions it has supplied. Thus his criticisms are often
extremely discursive, and some of his most valuable reflections on matters
at first sight quite remote from the fine arts occur in these Salons. Of drama
Diderot had a formal theory which he illustrated by examples not quite so
happy as his precepts. This theory involved the practical substitution of
what is called in French drame for the conventional tragedy and comedy,
and it brought the French theatre (or would have brought it if it had been
adopted, which it was not until 1830) much nearer to the English than it had
been. Diderot was moreover an enthusiastic admirer of English novels, and
especially of Richardson and Sterne, partly no doubt because the
sentimentalism which characterised them coincided with his own
sensibilité, but also (it is fair to believe) because of their freedom from the
artificiality and the strict observance of models which pervaded all branches
of literature in France. Of poetry proper we have little formal criticism from
Diderot. His own verses are few, and of no merit, nor was the poetry of the
time at all calculated to excite any enthusiasm in him. But the æsthetic
tendency which in other ways he expressed, and which he was the first to
express, was that which, some forty years after his death, brought about the
revival of poetry in France, through recurrence to nature, passion, truth,
vividness, and variety of sentiment.
So long as the old régime lasted journalism was
naturally in a condition of suppression, but from the Newspapers of the
beginning of the Revolution it assumed at once an Revolution.
important position in the state, and a position still more
important as a nursery of rising men of letters. At the The Influence of
Journalism.
time of the outbreak only two papers of importance
existed, the already mentioned Gazette de France, and the Journal de Paris,
in which Garat, André Chénier, Roucher, and many other men of
distinction, won their spurs. 1789, however, saw the birth of numerous
sheets, some of which continued almost till our own days. The most
important was the Gazette Nationale or Moniteur Universel, in which not
merely Garat and La Harpe, but Ginguené, a literary critic of talent and a
Page 481
republican of moderate principles, together with the future historian
Lacretelle, and the comic poet, fabulist, and critic Andrieux, took part.
Rivarol, Champcenetz, and Pelletier conducted the Royalist Actes des
Apôtres, Marat started his ultra-republican Ami du Peuple, Camille
Desmoulins the Courier de Brabant, Durozoy the Gazette de Paris. Barrère
and Louvet, both notorious, if not famous names, launched for the first time
a paper with a title destined to fortune, Le Journal des Débats; and Camille
Desmoulins changed his oddly-named journal into one named more oddly
still, Les Révolutions de France et de Brabant. All these, and more, were
the growth of the single year 1789. The next saw the avowedly Royalist
Ami du Roi of Royou, the atrocious Père Duchêne of Hébert, the
cumbrously-named Journal des Amis de la Constitution, on which
Fontanes, Clermont-Tonnerre, and other future Bonapartists and
Constitutionalists worked. In 1791 no paper of importance, except the
short-lived Girondist Chronique du Mois, appeared. In the next year many
Terrorist prints of no literary merit were started, and one, entitled Nouvelles
Politiques, to which the veterans Suard and Morellet, with Guizot, a novice
of the time to come, Lacretelle, Dupont de Nemours, and others, were
contributors. In the later years of the revolutionary period, the only
important newspaper was what was first called the Journal de l'Empire, and
at the end of Napoleon's reign the Journal des Débats, on which Fiévée,
Geoffroy, and many other writers of talent worked. In the early days of
these various journals political interests naturally engrossed them. But the
literary tastes and instincts of Parisians were too strong not to demand
attention, and by degrees the critical part of the newspaper became of
importance. Under the restoration this importance grew, and the result was
the Conservateur Littéraire and the Globe, in the former of which Victor
Hugo was introduced to the public, and in the latter Sainte-Beuve. This
sudden uprise of journalism produced a remarkable change in the
conditions of literary work, and offered chances to many who would
previously have been dependent on individual patronage. But so far as
regards literature, properly so called, all its results which were worth
anything appeared subsequently in books, and there is therefore no need to
refer otherwise than cursorily to the phenomenon of its development. Put
very briefly, the influence of journalism on literature may be said to be this:
it opens the way to those to whom it might otherwise be closed; it facilitates
Lacretelle, and the comic poet, fabulist, and critic Andrieux, took part.
Rivarol, Champcenetz, and Pelletier conducted the Royalist Actes des
Apôtres, Marat started his ultra-republican Ami du Peuple, Camille
Desmoulins the Courier de Brabant, Durozoy the Gazette de Paris. Barrère
and Louvet, both notorious, if not famous names, launched for the first time
a paper with a title destined to fortune, Le Journal des Débats; and Camille
Desmoulins changed his oddly-named journal into one named more oddly
still, Les Révolutions de France et de Brabant. All these, and more, were
the growth of the single year 1789. The next saw the avowedly Royalist
Ami du Roi of Royou, the atrocious Père Duchêne of Hébert, the
cumbrously-named Journal des Amis de la Constitution, on which
Fontanes, Clermont-Tonnerre, and other future Bonapartists and
Constitutionalists worked. In 1791 no paper of importance, except the
short-lived Girondist Chronique du Mois, appeared. In the next year many
Terrorist prints of no literary merit were started, and one, entitled Nouvelles
Politiques, to which the veterans Suard and Morellet, with Guizot, a novice
of the time to come, Lacretelle, Dupont de Nemours, and others, were
contributors. In the later years of the revolutionary period, the only
important newspaper was what was first called the Journal de l'Empire, and
at the end of Napoleon's reign the Journal des Débats, on which Fiévée,
Geoffroy, and many other writers of talent worked. In the early days of
these various journals political interests naturally engrossed them. But the
literary tastes and instincts of Parisians were too strong not to demand
attention, and by degrees the critical part of the newspaper became of
importance. Under the restoration this importance grew, and the result was
the Conservateur Littéraire and the Globe, in the former of which Victor
Hugo was introduced to the public, and in the latter Sainte-Beuve. This
sudden uprise of journalism produced a remarkable change in the
conditions of literary work, and offered chances to many who would
previously have been dependent on individual patronage. But so far as
regards literature, properly so called, all its results which were worth
anything appeared subsequently in books, and there is therefore no need to
refer otherwise than cursorily to the phenomenon of its development. Put
very briefly, the influence of journalism on literature may be said to be this:
it opens the way to those to whom it might otherwise be closed; it facilitates
Page 482
the destruction of erroneous principles; it assists production; and it
interferes with labour and care spent over the thing produced.
From the crowd of clever writers whom this outburst of
journalism found ready to draw their pens in one service Chamfort.
or the other, two names emerge as pre-eminently
remarkable. Garat and Champcenetz were men of wit and ingenuity, André
Chénier was a great poet, and his brother, Marie Joseph, a man of good
literary taste and master of an elegant style, Lacretelle a painstaking
historian, and many others worthy of note in their way. But Chamfort and
Rivarol deserve a different kind of notice from this. They united in a
remarkable fashion the peculiarities of the man of letters of the eighteenth
century with the peculiarities of the man of letters of the nineteenth, and
their individual merit was, though different and complementary, almost
unique. Chamfort was born in Auvergne, in 1741. He was the natural son of
a person who occupied the position of companion, and legally possessed
nothing but his baptismal name of Nicholas. Like his rival, La Harpe, he
obtained an exhibition at one of the Paris colleges, and distinguished
himself. After leaving school he lived for a time by miscellaneous literature,
and at last made his way to society and to literary success by dint of
competing for and winning academic prizes. On the second occasion of his
competition he defeated La Harpe. Afterwards Madame Helvétius assisted
him, and at last he received from Chabanon (a third-rate man of letters, who
may be most honourably mentioned here) a small annuity which made him
independent. It is said that he married, and that his wife died six months
afterwards. He was elected to the Academy, and patronised by all sorts of
persons, from the queen downwards. But at the outbreak of the Revolution
he took the popular side, though he could not continue long faithful to it. In
the Terror he was menaced with arrest, tried to commit suicide, and died
horribly mutilated in 1794. Chamfort's literary works are considerable in
bulk, but only a few of them have merit. His tragedies are quite worthless,
his comedy, La Jeune Indienne, not much better. His verse tales exceed in
licentiousness his models in La Fontaine, but fall far short of them in
elegance and humour. His academic essays are heavy and scarcely
intelligent. But his brief witticisms and his short anecdotes and
apophthegms hardly admit a rival. Chamfort was a man soured by his want
of birth, health, and position, and spoilt in mental development by the
interferes with labour and care spent over the thing produced.
From the crowd of clever writers whom this outburst of
journalism found ready to draw their pens in one service Chamfort.
or the other, two names emerge as pre-eminently
remarkable. Garat and Champcenetz were men of wit and ingenuity, André
Chénier was a great poet, and his brother, Marie Joseph, a man of good
literary taste and master of an elegant style, Lacretelle a painstaking
historian, and many others worthy of note in their way. But Chamfort and
Rivarol deserve a different kind of notice from this. They united in a
remarkable fashion the peculiarities of the man of letters of the eighteenth
century with the peculiarities of the man of letters of the nineteenth, and
their individual merit was, though different and complementary, almost
unique. Chamfort was born in Auvergne, in 1741. He was the natural son of
a person who occupied the position of companion, and legally possessed
nothing but his baptismal name of Nicholas. Like his rival, La Harpe, he
obtained an exhibition at one of the Paris colleges, and distinguished
himself. After leaving school he lived for a time by miscellaneous literature,
and at last made his way to society and to literary success by dint of
competing for and winning academic prizes. On the second occasion of his
competition he defeated La Harpe. Afterwards Madame Helvétius assisted
him, and at last he received from Chabanon (a third-rate man of letters, who
may be most honourably mentioned here) a small annuity which made him
independent. It is said that he married, and that his wife died six months
afterwards. He was elected to the Academy, and patronised by all sorts of
persons, from the queen downwards. But at the outbreak of the Revolution
he took the popular side, though he could not continue long faithful to it. In
the Terror he was menaced with arrest, tried to commit suicide, and died
horribly mutilated in 1794. Chamfort's literary works are considerable in
bulk, but only a few of them have merit. His tragedies are quite worthless,
his comedy, La Jeune Indienne, not much better. His verse tales exceed in
licentiousness his models in La Fontaine, but fall far short of them in
elegance and humour. His academic essays are heavy and scarcely
intelligent. But his brief witticisms and his short anecdotes and
apophthegms hardly admit a rival. Chamfort was a man soured by his want
of birth, health, and position, and spoilt in mental development by the
Page 483
necessity of hanging on to the great persons of his time. But for a kind of
tragi-comic satire, a saeva indignatio, taking the form of contempt of all
that is exalted and noble, he has no equal in literature except Swift.
The life of Rivarol was also an adventurous one, but
much less sombre. He was born about 1750, of a family Rivarol.
which seems to have had noble connections, but which,
in his branch of it, had descended to innkeeping. Indeed it is said that
Riverot, and not Rivarol, was the name which his father actually bore. He
himself, however, first assumed the title of Chevalier de Parcieux, and then
that of Comte de Rivarol. The way to literary distinction in those days was
either the theatre or criticism, and Rivarol, with the acuteness which
characterised him, knowing that he had no talent for the former, chose the
latter. His translation (with essay and notes) of Dante is an extraordinarily
clever book, and his discourse on the universality of the French tongue,
which followed, deserves the same description. It was not, however, in mere
criticism that Rivarol's forte lay, though he long afterwards continued to
exhibit his acuteness in it by utterances of various kinds. In 1788 (the year
before the Revolution) he excited the laughter of all Paris, and the intense
hatred of the hack-writers of his time, by publishing, in conjunction with
Champcenetz, an Almanach de nos Grands Hommes, in which, by a
mixture of fiction and fact, he caricatures his smaller contemporaries in the
most pitiless manner. When the Revolution broke out Rivarol took the
Royalist side, and contributed freely to its journals. He soon found it
necessary to leave the country, and lived for ten years in Brussels, London,
Hamburg, and Berlin, publishing occasionally pamphlets and miscellaneous
works. He died at the Prussian capital in 1801. Not only has Rivarol a
considerable claim as a critic, and a very high position as a political
pamphleteer, but he is as much the master of the prose epigram as Chamfort
is of the short anecdote. Following the example of his predecessors, he put
many of his best things in a treatise, De l'Homme Intellectuel et Moral,
which, as a whole, is very dull and unsatisfactory, though it is lighted up by
occasional flashes of the most brilliant wit. His detached sayings, which are
not so much Pensées or maxims as conversational good things, are among
the most sparkling in literature, and, with Chamfort's, occupy a position
which they keep almost entirely to themselves. It has been said of him and
of Chamfort (who, being of similar talents and on opposite sides, were
tragi-comic satire, a saeva indignatio, taking the form of contempt of all
that is exalted and noble, he has no equal in literature except Swift.
The life of Rivarol was also an adventurous one, but
much less sombre. He was born about 1750, of a family Rivarol.
which seems to have had noble connections, but which,
in his branch of it, had descended to innkeeping. Indeed it is said that
Riverot, and not Rivarol, was the name which his father actually bore. He
himself, however, first assumed the title of Chevalier de Parcieux, and then
that of Comte de Rivarol. The way to literary distinction in those days was
either the theatre or criticism, and Rivarol, with the acuteness which
characterised him, knowing that he had no talent for the former, chose the
latter. His translation (with essay and notes) of Dante is an extraordinarily
clever book, and his discourse on the universality of the French tongue,
which followed, deserves the same description. It was not, however, in mere
criticism that Rivarol's forte lay, though he long afterwards continued to
exhibit his acuteness in it by utterances of various kinds. In 1788 (the year
before the Revolution) he excited the laughter of all Paris, and the intense
hatred of the hack-writers of his time, by publishing, in conjunction with
Champcenetz, an Almanach de nos Grands Hommes, in which, by a
mixture of fiction and fact, he caricatures his smaller contemporaries in the
most pitiless manner. When the Revolution broke out Rivarol took the
Royalist side, and contributed freely to its journals. He soon found it
necessary to leave the country, and lived for ten years in Brussels, London,
Hamburg, and Berlin, publishing occasionally pamphlets and miscellaneous
works. He died at the Prussian capital in 1801. Not only has Rivarol a
considerable claim as a critic, and a very high position as a political
pamphleteer, but he is as much the master of the prose epigram as Chamfort
is of the short anecdote. Following the example of his predecessors, he put
many of his best things in a treatise, De l'Homme Intellectuel et Moral,
which, as a whole, is very dull and unsatisfactory, though it is lighted up by
occasional flashes of the most brilliant wit. His detached sayings, which are
not so much Pensées or maxims as conversational good things, are among
the most sparkling in literature, and, with Chamfort's, occupy a position
which they keep almost entirely to themselves. It has been said of him and
of Chamfort (who, being of similar talents and on opposite sides, were
Page 484
naturally bitter foes) that they 'knew men, but only from the outside, and
from certain limited superficial and accidental points of view. They knew
books, too, but their knowledge was circumscribed by the fashions of a time
which was not favourable to impartial literary appreciation. Hence their
anecdotes are personal rather than general, rather amusing than instructive,
rather showing the acuteness and ingenuity of the authors than able to throw
light on the subjects dealt with. But as mere tale-tellers and sayers of sharp
things they have few rivals.' It may be added that they complete and sum up
the merits and defects of the French society of the eighteenth century, and
that, in so far as literature can do this, the small extent of their selected
works furnishes a complete comment on that society.
Contemporary with these two writers, though, from the
posthumous publication of his works years after the end Joubert.
of his long life, he seems in a manner a contemporary of
our own, was Joseph Joubert, the last great Pensée-writer of France and of
Europe. Joubert's birthplace was Montignac, in Perigord, and the date of his
birth 1754, three years after that of Rivarol, and about twelve after that of
Chamfort. He was educated at Toulouse, where, without taking regular
orders, he joined the Frères de la Doctrine Chrétienne, a teaching
community, and studied and taught till he was twenty-two years old. Then
his health being, as it was all through his life, weak, he returned home, and
succeeding before long to a small but sufficient fortune, he went to Paris.
Here he became intimate with the second philosophe generation (La Harpe,
Marmontel, etc.), and is said to have for a time been an enthusiastic hearer
of Diderot, the most splendid talker of that or any age. But Joubert's ideals
and method of thought were radically different from those of the
Philosophes, and he soon found more congenial literary companions, of
whom the chief were Fontanes and Chênedollé, while he found his natural
home in the salon of two ladies of rank and cultivation, Madame de
Beaumont and Madame de Vintimille. Before long he married and
established himself in Paris with a choice library, into which, it is said, no
eighteenth-century writer was admitted. His health became worse and
worse, yet he lived to the age of seventy, dying in 1824. Fourteen years
afterwards Chateaubriand, at the request of his widow, edited a selection of
his remains, and four years later still his nephew, M. de Raynal, produced a
fuller edition.
from certain limited superficial and accidental points of view. They knew
books, too, but their knowledge was circumscribed by the fashions of a time
which was not favourable to impartial literary appreciation. Hence their
anecdotes are personal rather than general, rather amusing than instructive,
rather showing the acuteness and ingenuity of the authors than able to throw
light on the subjects dealt with. But as mere tale-tellers and sayers of sharp
things they have few rivals.' It may be added that they complete and sum up
the merits and defects of the French society of the eighteenth century, and
that, in so far as literature can do this, the small extent of their selected
works furnishes a complete comment on that society.
Contemporary with these two writers, though, from the
posthumous publication of his works years after the end Joubert.
of his long life, he seems in a manner a contemporary of
our own, was Joseph Joubert, the last great Pensée-writer of France and of
Europe. Joubert's birthplace was Montignac, in Perigord, and the date of his
birth 1754, three years after that of Rivarol, and about twelve after that of
Chamfort. He was educated at Toulouse, where, without taking regular
orders, he joined the Frères de la Doctrine Chrétienne, a teaching
community, and studied and taught till he was twenty-two years old. Then
his health being, as it was all through his life, weak, he returned home, and
succeeding before long to a small but sufficient fortune, he went to Paris.
Here he became intimate with the second philosophe generation (La Harpe,
Marmontel, etc.), and is said to have for a time been an enthusiastic hearer
of Diderot, the most splendid talker of that or any age. But Joubert's ideals
and method of thought were radically different from those of the
Philosophes, and he soon found more congenial literary companions, of
whom the chief were Fontanes and Chênedollé, while he found his natural
home in the salon of two ladies of rank and cultivation, Madame de
Beaumont and Madame de Vintimille. Before long he married and
established himself in Paris with a choice library, into which, it is said, no
eighteenth-century writer was admitted. His health became worse and
worse, yet he lived to the age of seventy, dying in 1824. Fourteen years
afterwards Chateaubriand, at the request of his widow, edited a selection of
his remains, and four years later still his nephew, M. de Raynal, produced a
fuller edition.
Page 485
Joubert's works consist (with the exception of a few letters) exclusively of
Pensées and maxims, which rank in point of depth and of exquisite literary
expression with those of La Rochefoucauld, and in point of range above
them. They are even wider in this respect than those of Vauvenargues,
which they also much resemble. Ethics, politics, theology, literature, all
occupy Joubert. In politics he is, as may be perhaps expected from his time
and circumstances, decidedly anti-revolutionary. In theology, without being
exactly orthodox according to any published scheme of orthodoxy, Joubert
is definitely Christian. In ethics he holds a middle place between the
unsparing hardness of the self-interest school and the somewhat gushing
manner of the sentimentalists. But his literary thoughts are perhaps the most
noteworthy, not merely from our present point of view. All alike have the
characteristic of intense compression (he described his literary aim in the
phrase 'tormented by the ambition of putting a book in a page, a page into a
phrase, and a phrase into a word'), while all have the same lucidity and
freedom from enigma. All are alike polished in form and style according to
the best models of the seventeenth century; but whereas study and reflection
might have been sufficient to give Joubert the material of his other
thoughts, the wide difference between his literary judgments and those of
his time is less easily explicable. No finer criticism on style and on poetry
in the abstract exists than his, and yet his reading of poetry cannot have
been very extensive. He is even just to the writers of the eighteenth century,
whose manner he disliked, and whose society he had abjured. He seems,
indeed, to have had almost a perfect faculty of literary appreciation, and
wherever his sayings startle the reader it will generally be found that there
is a sufficient explanation beneath. There is probably no writer in any
language who has said an equal number of remarkable things on an equal
variety of subjects in an equally small space, and with an equally high and
unbroken excellence of style and expression. This is the intrinsic worth of
Joubert. In literary history he has yet another interest, that of showing in the
person of a man living out of the literary world, and far removed from the
operation of cliques, the process which was inevitably bringing about the
great revolution of 1830.
Like Joubert, Paul Louis Courier had a great dislike and
even contempt for the authors of the eighteenth century, Courier.
but curiously enough this dislike did not in the least
Pensées and maxims, which rank in point of depth and of exquisite literary
expression with those of La Rochefoucauld, and in point of range above
them. They are even wider in this respect than those of Vauvenargues,
which they also much resemble. Ethics, politics, theology, literature, all
occupy Joubert. In politics he is, as may be perhaps expected from his time
and circumstances, decidedly anti-revolutionary. In theology, without being
exactly orthodox according to any published scheme of orthodoxy, Joubert
is definitely Christian. In ethics he holds a middle place between the
unsparing hardness of the self-interest school and the somewhat gushing
manner of the sentimentalists. But his literary thoughts are perhaps the most
noteworthy, not merely from our present point of view. All alike have the
characteristic of intense compression (he described his literary aim in the
phrase 'tormented by the ambition of putting a book in a page, a page into a
phrase, and a phrase into a word'), while all have the same lucidity and
freedom from enigma. All are alike polished in form and style according to
the best models of the seventeenth century; but whereas study and reflection
might have been sufficient to give Joubert the material of his other
thoughts, the wide difference between his literary judgments and those of
his time is less easily explicable. No finer criticism on style and on poetry
in the abstract exists than his, and yet his reading of poetry cannot have
been very extensive. He is even just to the writers of the eighteenth century,
whose manner he disliked, and whose society he had abjured. He seems,
indeed, to have had almost a perfect faculty of literary appreciation, and
wherever his sayings startle the reader it will generally be found that there
is a sufficient explanation beneath. There is probably no writer in any
language who has said an equal number of remarkable things on an equal
variety of subjects in an equally small space, and with an equally high and
unbroken excellence of style and expression. This is the intrinsic worth of
Joubert. In literary history he has yet another interest, that of showing in the
person of a man living out of the literary world, and far removed from the
operation of cliques, the process which was inevitably bringing about the
great revolution of 1830.
Like Joubert, Paul Louis Courier had a great dislike and
even contempt for the authors of the eighteenth century, Courier.
but curiously enough this dislike did not in the least
Page 486
affect his theological or political opinions. He was born at Paris, in 1772,
being the son of a wealthy man of the middle class. His youth was passed in
the country, and he early displayed a great liking for classical study. As a
compromise between business, which he hated, and literature, of which his
father would not hear, he entered the army in 1792. He served on the Rhine,
and not long after joining broke his leave in a manner rather unpleasantly
resembling desertion. His friends succeeded in saving him from the
consequences of this imprudence, and he served until Wagram, when he
finally left the army, again in very odd circumstances. He then lived in Italy
(where his passion for the classics led him into an absurd dispute about an
alleged injury he had caused to a manuscript of Longus) until the fall of the
Empire. When he was forty-five years old he was known in literature only
as a translator of classics, remarkable for scholarship and for careful
modelling of his style upon the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, rather
than upon the eighteenth. Although he had hitherto taken little active part in
politics, the so-called 'ideas of 89' had sunk deeply into him. Impelled, not
by any wide views on the future of the nation, but apparently by the mere
bourgeois hatred of titles, old descent, and the other privileges of the
aristocracy, he began a series of pamphlets to the success of which there is
no rival except that of the Letters of Junius, while Junius falls far short of
Courier in intrinsic literary merit. There are, indeed, few authors whose
merit resides so wholly in their style and power of expression as Courier's.
His thought is narrow in the extreme; even where its conclusions are just it
rests rather on the jealousies of the typical bourgeois than on anything else.
But in irony he has, with the exception of Pascal and Swift, no superior. He
began by a Pétition aux Deux Chambres. Then he contributed a series of
letters to Le Censeur, a reform journal; then he published various
pamphlets, usually signed 'Paul Louis, Vigneron,' and ostensibly addressed
to his neighbours and fellow villagers. He had established himself on a
small estate in Touraine, which he farmed himself. But he was much in
Paris, and his political writings made him acquainted with the prison of
Sainte Pélagie. His death, in April 1825, was singular, and indeed
mysterious. He was shot, the murderer escaping. It was suspected to be one
of his own servants, to whom he was a harsh and unpopular master, and the
suspicion was confirmed some years afterwards by the confession of a
game-keeper. His Simple Discours against the presentation of Chambord to
the Duc de Bordeaux, his Livret de Paul Louis, his Pamphlet des
being the son of a wealthy man of the middle class. His youth was passed in
the country, and he early displayed a great liking for classical study. As a
compromise between business, which he hated, and literature, of which his
father would not hear, he entered the army in 1792. He served on the Rhine,
and not long after joining broke his leave in a manner rather unpleasantly
resembling desertion. His friends succeeded in saving him from the
consequences of this imprudence, and he served until Wagram, when he
finally left the army, again in very odd circumstances. He then lived in Italy
(where his passion for the classics led him into an absurd dispute about an
alleged injury he had caused to a manuscript of Longus) until the fall of the
Empire. When he was forty-five years old he was known in literature only
as a translator of classics, remarkable for scholarship and for careful
modelling of his style upon the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, rather
than upon the eighteenth. Although he had hitherto taken little active part in
politics, the so-called 'ideas of 89' had sunk deeply into him. Impelled, not
by any wide views on the future of the nation, but apparently by the mere
bourgeois hatred of titles, old descent, and the other privileges of the
aristocracy, he began a series of pamphlets to the success of which there is
no rival except that of the Letters of Junius, while Junius falls far short of
Courier in intrinsic literary merit. There are, indeed, few authors whose
merit resides so wholly in their style and power of expression as Courier's.
His thought is narrow in the extreme; even where its conclusions are just it
rests rather on the jealousies of the typical bourgeois than on anything else.
But in irony he has, with the exception of Pascal and Swift, no superior. He
began by a Pétition aux Deux Chambres. Then he contributed a series of
letters to Le Censeur, a reform journal; then he published various
pamphlets, usually signed 'Paul Louis, Vigneron,' and ostensibly addressed
to his neighbours and fellow villagers. He had established himself on a
small estate in Touraine, which he farmed himself. But he was much in
Paris, and his political writings made him acquainted with the prison of
Sainte Pélagie. His death, in April 1825, was singular, and indeed
mysterious. He was shot, the murderer escaping. It was suspected to be one
of his own servants, to whom he was a harsh and unpopular master, and the
suspicion was confirmed some years afterwards by the confession of a
game-keeper. His Simple Discours against the presentation of Chambord to
the Duc de Bordeaux, his Livret de Paul Louis, his Pamphlet des
Page 487
Pamphlets, are all models of their kind. Nowhere is the peculiar quality
which is called in French narquois displayed with more consummate skill.
The language is at once perfectly simple and of the utmost literary polish,
the arguments, whether good or bad, always tellingly expressed. But
perhaps he has written nothing better than the Lettre à M. Renouard, in
which he discusses the mishap with the manuscript of Longus, and the letter
to the Académie des Inscriptions on their refusal to elect him. The style of
Courier is almost unique, and its merits are only denied by those who do not
possess the necessary organ for appreciating it.
This chapter may perhaps be most appropriately
concluded by the notice of a singular writer who, Sénancour.
although longer lived, was contemporary with Courier.
Étienne Pivert de Sénancour may be treated almost indifferently as a moral
essayist, or as a producer of the peculiar kind of faintly narrative and
strongly ethical work which Rousseau had made fashionable. The infusion
of narrative in his principal and indeed only remarkable work, Obermann, is
however so slight, that he will come in best here, though in his old age he
wrote a professed novel, Isabella. Sénancour was born in 1770, his father
being a man of position and fortune, who lost both at the Revolution. The
son was destined for the Church, but ran away and spent a considerable
time in Switzerland, where he married, returning to France towards the end
of the century. He then published divers curious works of half-sentimental,
half-speculative reflection, by far the most important of which, Obermann,
appeared in 1804. Then Sénancour had to take to literary hack-work for a
subsistence; but in his later years Villemain and Thiers procured pensions
for him, and he was relieved from want. He died in 1846. Obermann has
not been ill described by George Sand as a René with a difference;
Chateaubriand's melancholy hero feeling that he could do anything if he
would but has no spirit for any task, Sénancour's that he is unequal to his
own aspirations. No brief epigram of this kind can ever fully describe a
book; but this, though inadequate, is not incorrect so far as it goes. The
book is a series of letters, in which the supposed writer delivers melancholy
reflections on all manner of themes, especially moral problems and natural
beauty. Sénancour was in a certain sense a Philosophe, in so far that he was
dogmatically unorthodox and discarded conventional ideas as to moral
conduct; but he is much nearer Rousseau than Diderot. Indeed, he
which is called in French narquois displayed with more consummate skill.
The language is at once perfectly simple and of the utmost literary polish,
the arguments, whether good or bad, always tellingly expressed. But
perhaps he has written nothing better than the Lettre à M. Renouard, in
which he discusses the mishap with the manuscript of Longus, and the letter
to the Académie des Inscriptions on their refusal to elect him. The style of
Courier is almost unique, and its merits are only denied by those who do not
possess the necessary organ for appreciating it.
This chapter may perhaps be most appropriately
concluded by the notice of a singular writer who, Sénancour.
although longer lived, was contemporary with Courier.
Étienne Pivert de Sénancour may be treated almost indifferently as a moral
essayist, or as a producer of the peculiar kind of faintly narrative and
strongly ethical work which Rousseau had made fashionable. The infusion
of narrative in his principal and indeed only remarkable work, Obermann, is
however so slight, that he will come in best here, though in his old age he
wrote a professed novel, Isabella. Sénancour was born in 1770, his father
being a man of position and fortune, who lost both at the Revolution. The
son was destined for the Church, but ran away and spent a considerable
time in Switzerland, where he married, returning to France towards the end
of the century. He then published divers curious works of half-sentimental,
half-speculative reflection, by far the most important of which, Obermann,
appeared in 1804. Then Sénancour had to take to literary hack-work for a
subsistence; but in his later years Villemain and Thiers procured pensions
for him, and he was relieved from want. He died in 1846. Obermann has
not been ill described by George Sand as a René with a difference;
Chateaubriand's melancholy hero feeling that he could do anything if he
would but has no spirit for any task, Sénancour's that he is unequal to his
own aspirations. No brief epigram of this kind can ever fully describe a
book; but this, though inadequate, is not incorrect so far as it goes. The
book is a series of letters, in which the supposed writer delivers melancholy
reflections on all manner of themes, especially moral problems and natural
beauty. Sénancour was in a certain sense a Philosophe, in so far that he was
dogmatically unorthodox and discarded conventional ideas as to moral
conduct; but he is much nearer Rousseau than Diderot. Indeed, he
Page 488
sometimes seems to the reader little more than an echo of the former, until
his more distinctly modern characteristics (characteristics which were not
fully or generally felt or reproduced till the visionary and discouraged
generation of 1820-1850) reappear. It is perhaps not unfair to say that the
pleasure with which this generation recognised its own sentiments in
Obermann gave rise to a traditional estimate of the literary value of that
book which is a little exaggerated. Yet it has considerable merit, especially
in the simplicity and directness with which expression is given to a class of
sentiments very likely to find vent in language either extravagant or
affected. Its form is that of a series of letters, dated from various places, but
chiefly from a solitary valley in the Alps in which the hero lives, meditates,
and pursues the occupations of husbandry on his small estate.
his more distinctly modern characteristics (characteristics which were not
fully or generally felt or reproduced till the visionary and discouraged
generation of 1820-1850) reappear. It is perhaps not unfair to say that the
pleasure with which this generation recognised its own sentiments in
Obermann gave rise to a traditional estimate of the literary value of that
book which is a little exaggerated. Yet it has considerable merit, especially
in the simplicity and directness with which expression is given to a class of
sentiments very likely to find vent in language either extravagant or
affected. Its form is that of a series of letters, dated from various places, but
chiefly from a solitary valley in the Alps in which the hero lives, meditates,
and pursues the occupations of husbandry on his small estate.
Page 489
CHAPTER VI.
PHILOSOPHERS.
The entire literary and intellectual movement of the
eighteenth century is very often called the philosophe The philosophe
movement.
movement, and the writers who took part in it les
philosophes. The word 'philosopher' is, however, here used in a sense
widely different from its proper and usual one. Philosophie, in the ordinary
language of the middle and later seventeenth century, meant simply
freethinking on questions of religion. This freethinking, of which Saint-
Evremond was the most distinguished representative, involved no
revolutionary or even reforming attitude towards politics or practical affairs
of any kind. As however the next century advanced, the character of French
scepticism became altered. Contact with English Deism gave form and
precision to its theological or anti-theological side. The reading of Locke
animated it against Cartesianism, and the study of English politics excited it
against the irresponsible despotism and the crushing system of ecclesiastical
and aristocratic privilege which made almost the entire burden of
government rest on the shoulders least able to bear it. French 'philosophism'
then became suddenly militant and practical. Toleration and liberty of
speculation in religion, constitutional government in politics, the
equalisation of pressure in taxation, and the removal of privilege, together
with reform in legal procedure, were the objects which it had most at heart.
In merely speculative philosophy, that is to say, in metaphysics, it was much
less active, though it had on the whole a tendency towards materialism, and
by a curious accident it was for the most part rigidly conservative in literary
criticism. But it was eager in the cultivation of ethics from various points of
view, and busy in the study both of the philosophy of history, which may be
said to date from that period, and of physical science, in which Newton took
the place of Locke as guide. The almost universal presence of this practical
and reforming spirit makes it not by any means so easy to subdivide the
branches of literature, as is the case in the seventeenth century. La Bruyère
had said, in the days of acquiescence in absolutism, that to a Frenchman
PHILOSOPHERS.
The entire literary and intellectual movement of the
eighteenth century is very often called the philosophe The philosophe
movement.
movement, and the writers who took part in it les
philosophes. The word 'philosopher' is, however, here used in a sense
widely different from its proper and usual one. Philosophie, in the ordinary
language of the middle and later seventeenth century, meant simply
freethinking on questions of religion. This freethinking, of which Saint-
Evremond was the most distinguished representative, involved no
revolutionary or even reforming attitude towards politics or practical affairs
of any kind. As however the next century advanced, the character of French
scepticism became altered. Contact with English Deism gave form and
precision to its theological or anti-theological side. The reading of Locke
animated it against Cartesianism, and the study of English politics excited it
against the irresponsible despotism and the crushing system of ecclesiastical
and aristocratic privilege which made almost the entire burden of
government rest on the shoulders least able to bear it. French 'philosophism'
then became suddenly militant and practical. Toleration and liberty of
speculation in religion, constitutional government in politics, the
equalisation of pressure in taxation, and the removal of privilege, together
with reform in legal procedure, were the objects which it had most at heart.
In merely speculative philosophy, that is to say, in metaphysics, it was much
less active, though it had on the whole a tendency towards materialism, and
by a curious accident it was for the most part rigidly conservative in literary
criticism. But it was eager in the cultivation of ethics from various points of
view, and busy in the study both of the philosophy of history, which may be
said to date from that period, and of physical science, in which Newton took
the place of Locke as guide. The almost universal presence of this practical
and reforming spirit makes it not by any means so easy to subdivide the
branches of literature, as is the case in the seventeenth century. La Bruyère
had said, in the days of acquiescence in absolutism, that to a Frenchman
Page 490
'Les grands sujets sont défendus,' meaning thereby theology and politics.
The general spirit of the eighteenth century was a vigorous denial of this,
and an eager investigation into these 'grands sujets.' This spirit made its
appearance in the most unexpected quarters, and in the strangest forms. It
converted (in the hands of Voltaire) the stiffest and most conventional form
of drama ever known into a pamphlet. It insinuated polemics under the
guise of history, and made the ponderous and apparently matter-of-fact
folios of a Dictionary of Arts and Manufactures the vehicles of arguments
for reform. It overflowed into every department of literary occupation.
Some of the chief prose manifestations of this spirit have been discussed
and arranged in the two previous chapters under the head of history and
essay writing. The rest will be dealt with here. A certain distinction of form,
though it is often rather arbitrary than real, renders such a subdivision
possible, while it is desirable in the interest of clearness. It will be noticed
that while the attack is voluminous and manifold, the defence is almost
unrepresented in literature. This is one of the most remarkable facts in
literary history. In England, from which the philosophe movement
borrowed so much, the Deists had not only not had their own way in the
literary battle, but had been beaten all along the line by the superior
intellectual and literary prowess of the defenders of orthodoxy. The case in
France went otherwise and almost by default. The only defender of
orthodoxy whose name has survived in literature—for Fréron, despite his
power, was little more than a literary critic—is the Abbé Guénée. In so
singular a state was the church of France that scarcely a single preacher or
theologian, after Massillon's death in 1742, could challenge equality with
even third- or fourth-rate men of letters; while, after the death of the
Chancellor d'Aguesseau in 1751, no layman of eminence can be named
until Joseph de Maistre, nearly half a century later, who was at once a
considerable writer and a declared defender of religion. Indeed no small
proportion of the enemies of ecclesiasticism were actually paid and
privileged members of the Church itself. Thus little opposition, except that
of simple vis inertiae, was offered to the new views and the crusade by
which they were supported. This crusade, however, had two very different
stages. The first, of which the greatest representatives are Montesquieu and
in a way Voltaire himself, was critical and reforming, but in no way
revolutionary; the second, of whom the Encyclopædists are the
representatives, was, consciously or unconsciously, bent on a complete
The general spirit of the eighteenth century was a vigorous denial of this,
and an eager investigation into these 'grands sujets.' This spirit made its
appearance in the most unexpected quarters, and in the strangest forms. It
converted (in the hands of Voltaire) the stiffest and most conventional form
of drama ever known into a pamphlet. It insinuated polemics under the
guise of history, and made the ponderous and apparently matter-of-fact
folios of a Dictionary of Arts and Manufactures the vehicles of arguments
for reform. It overflowed into every department of literary occupation.
Some of the chief prose manifestations of this spirit have been discussed
and arranged in the two previous chapters under the head of history and
essay writing. The rest will be dealt with here. A certain distinction of form,
though it is often rather arbitrary than real, renders such a subdivision
possible, while it is desirable in the interest of clearness. It will be noticed
that while the attack is voluminous and manifold, the defence is almost
unrepresented in literature. This is one of the most remarkable facts in
literary history. In England, from which the philosophe movement
borrowed so much, the Deists had not only not had their own way in the
literary battle, but had been beaten all along the line by the superior
intellectual and literary prowess of the defenders of orthodoxy. The case in
France went otherwise and almost by default. The only defender of
orthodoxy whose name has survived in literature—for Fréron, despite his
power, was little more than a literary critic—is the Abbé Guénée. In so
singular a state was the church of France that scarcely a single preacher or
theologian, after Massillon's death in 1742, could challenge equality with
even third- or fourth-rate men of letters; while, after the death of the
Chancellor d'Aguesseau in 1751, no layman of eminence can be named
until Joseph de Maistre, nearly half a century later, who was at once a
considerable writer and a declared defender of religion. Indeed no small
proportion of the enemies of ecclesiasticism were actually paid and
privileged members of the Church itself. Thus little opposition, except that
of simple vis inertiae, was offered to the new views and the crusade by
which they were supported. This crusade, however, had two very different
stages. The first, of which the greatest representatives are Montesquieu and
in a way Voltaire himself, was critical and reforming, but in no way
revolutionary; the second, of whom the Encyclopædists are the
representatives, was, consciously or unconsciously, bent on a complete
Page 491
revolution. We shall give an account first of the chief representatives of
these two great classes of the general movement, and then of those
offshoots or schools of that movement which busied themselves with the
special subjects of economics, ethics, and metaphysics, as distinguished
from general politics.
Charles de Secondat, Baron de Montesquieu et de la
Brède, was born at the château, which gave him the last- Montesquieu.
named title, in the neighbourhood of Bordeaux, on the
18th of January, 1689. His family was not of the oldest, but it had, as he
tells us, some two or three centuries of proved noblesse to boast of, and had
been distinguished in the law. He himself was destined for that profession,
and after a youth of laborious study became councillor of the parliament of
Bordeaux in 1714, and in a year or two president. In 1721 he produced the
Lettres Persanes, and four years later the curious little prose poem called
the Temple de Gnide. Some objection was made by the minister Fleury, who
was rigidly orthodox, to the satirical tone of the former book in
ecclesiastical matters, but Montesquieu was none the less elected of the
Academy in 1728. He had given up his position at the Bordeaux Parlement
a few years before this, and set out on an extensive course of travel, noting
elaborately the manners, customs, and constitution of the countries through
which he passed. Two years of this time were spent in England, for which
country, politically speaking, he conceived a great admiration. On his return
to France he lived partly in Paris, but chiefly at his estate of La Brède,
taking an active interest in its management, and in the various occupations
of a country gentleman, but also working unceasingly at his masterpiece,
the Esprit des Lois. This, however, was not published for many years, and
was long preceded by the book which ranks second in importance to it, the
Grandeur et Décadence des Romains, 1734. This was Montesquieu's first
serious work, and it placed him as high among serious writers as the Lettres
Persanes had among lighter authors. The Esprit des Lois itself did not
appear till 1748. Montesquieu, whose life was in no way eventful, lived for
some years longer, dying in Paris on the 10th of February, 1755. Besides the
works mentioned he had written several dialogues and other trifles, a
considerable number of Pensées, and some articles for the earlier volumes
of the Encyclopædia.
these two great classes of the general movement, and then of those
offshoots or schools of that movement which busied themselves with the
special subjects of economics, ethics, and metaphysics, as distinguished
from general politics.
Charles de Secondat, Baron de Montesquieu et de la
Brède, was born at the château, which gave him the last- Montesquieu.
named title, in the neighbourhood of Bordeaux, on the
18th of January, 1689. His family was not of the oldest, but it had, as he
tells us, some two or three centuries of proved noblesse to boast of, and had
been distinguished in the law. He himself was destined for that profession,
and after a youth of laborious study became councillor of the parliament of
Bordeaux in 1714, and in a year or two president. In 1721 he produced the
Lettres Persanes, and four years later the curious little prose poem called
the Temple de Gnide. Some objection was made by the minister Fleury, who
was rigidly orthodox, to the satirical tone of the former book in
ecclesiastical matters, but Montesquieu was none the less elected of the
Academy in 1728. He had given up his position at the Bordeaux Parlement
a few years before this, and set out on an extensive course of travel, noting
elaborately the manners, customs, and constitution of the countries through
which he passed. Two years of this time were spent in England, for which
country, politically speaking, he conceived a great admiration. On his return
to France he lived partly in Paris, but chiefly at his estate of La Brède,
taking an active interest in its management, and in the various occupations
of a country gentleman, but also working unceasingly at his masterpiece,
the Esprit des Lois. This, however, was not published for many years, and
was long preceded by the book which ranks second in importance to it, the
Grandeur et Décadence des Romains, 1734. This was Montesquieu's first
serious work, and it placed him as high among serious writers as the Lettres
Persanes had among lighter authors. The Esprit des Lois itself did not
appear till 1748. Montesquieu, whose life was in no way eventful, lived for
some years longer, dying in Paris on the 10th of February, 1755. Besides the
works mentioned he had written several dialogues and other trifles, a
considerable number of Pensées, and some articles for the earlier volumes
of the Encyclopædia.
Page 492
Montesquieu probably deserves the title of the greatest
man of letters of the French eighteenth century, the Lettres Persanes.
superior versatility and more superficial brilliancy of
Voltaire being compensated in him by far greater Gradeur et
originality and depth of thought. His three principal Décadence des
Romains
works deserve to be considered in turn. The Lettres
Persanes, in which the opinions of a foreigner on French affairs are given,
is not entirely original in conception; the idea of the vehicle being possibly
suggested by the Amusements Divers of Dufresny the comic author. The
working out, however, is entirely Montesquieu's, and was followed closely
enough by the various writers, who, with Voltaire and Goldsmith at their
head, have adopted a similar medium for satire and criticism since. It is not
too much to say that the entire spirit of the philosophe movement in its
more moderate form is contained and anticipated in the Lettres Persanes.
All the weaknesses of France in political, ecclesiastical, and social
arrangements are here touched on with a light but sure hand, and the
example is thus set of attacking 'les grands sujets.' From a literary point of
view the form of this work is at least as remarkable as the matter. Voltaire
himself is nowhere more witty, while Montesquieu has over his rival the
indefinable but unquestionable advantage of writing more like a gentleman.
There is no single book in which the admirable capacity of the French
language for jesting treatment of serious subjects is better shown than in the
Lettres Persanes. Montesquieu's next important work was of a very
different character. The Considérations sur les Causes de la Grandeur et de
la Décadence des Romains is an entirely serious work. It does not as yet
exhibit the magnificent breadth of view and the inexhaustible fertility of
explanation which distinguish the Esprit des Lois, but it has been well
regarded as a kind of preliminary exercise for that great work. Montesquieu
here treats an extensive but homogeneous and manageable subject from the
point of view of philosophical history, after a method which had been
partially tried by Bossuet, and systematically arranged by Vico in Italy, but
which was not fully developed till Turgot's time. That is to say, his object is
not merely to exhibit, but to explain the facts, and to explain them on
general principles applicable with due modifications to other times and
other histories. Accordingly, the style of the Grandeur et Décadence is as
grave and dignified as that of the Lettres Persanes is lively and malicious. It
is sometimes a little too sententious in tone, and suffers from the habit,
man of letters of the French eighteenth century, the Lettres Persanes.
superior versatility and more superficial brilliancy of
Voltaire being compensated in him by far greater Gradeur et
originality and depth of thought. His three principal Décadence des
Romains
works deserve to be considered in turn. The Lettres
Persanes, in which the opinions of a foreigner on French affairs are given,
is not entirely original in conception; the idea of the vehicle being possibly
suggested by the Amusements Divers of Dufresny the comic author. The
working out, however, is entirely Montesquieu's, and was followed closely
enough by the various writers, who, with Voltaire and Goldsmith at their
head, have adopted a similar medium for satire and criticism since. It is not
too much to say that the entire spirit of the philosophe movement in its
more moderate form is contained and anticipated in the Lettres Persanes.
All the weaknesses of France in political, ecclesiastical, and social
arrangements are here touched on with a light but sure hand, and the
example is thus set of attacking 'les grands sujets.' From a literary point of
view the form of this work is at least as remarkable as the matter. Voltaire
himself is nowhere more witty, while Montesquieu has over his rival the
indefinable but unquestionable advantage of writing more like a gentleman.
There is no single book in which the admirable capacity of the French
language for jesting treatment of serious subjects is better shown than in the
Lettres Persanes. Montesquieu's next important work was of a very
different character. The Considérations sur les Causes de la Grandeur et de
la Décadence des Romains is an entirely serious work. It does not as yet
exhibit the magnificent breadth of view and the inexhaustible fertility of
explanation which distinguish the Esprit des Lois, but it has been well
regarded as a kind of preliminary exercise for that great work. Montesquieu
here treats an extensive but homogeneous and manageable subject from the
point of view of philosophical history, after a method which had been
partially tried by Bossuet, and systematically arranged by Vico in Italy, but
which was not fully developed till Turgot's time. That is to say, his object is
not merely to exhibit, but to explain the facts, and to explain them on
general principles applicable with due modifications to other times and
other histories. Accordingly, the style of the Grandeur et Décadence is as
grave and dignified as that of the Lettres Persanes is lively and malicious. It
is sometimes a little too sententious in tone, and suffers from the habit,
Page 493
induced probably by Pensée-writing, of composing in very brief
paragraphs. But it is an excellent example of its kind, and especially
remarkable for the extreme clearness and lucidity with which the march and
sequence of events in the gross is exhibited.
The Esprit des Lois is, however, a far greater book than
either of these, and far more original. The title may be Esprit des Lois.
thought to be not altogether happy, and indeed rather
ambiguous, because it does not of itself suggest the extremely wide sense in
which the word law is intended to be taken. An exact if cumbrous title for
the book would be 'On the Relation of Human Laws and Customs to the
Laws of Nature.' The author begins somewhat formally with the old
distinction of politics into democracy, aristocracy, and monarchy. He
discusses the principles of each and their bearings on education, on positive
law, on social conditions, on military strength, offensive and defensive, on
individual liberty, on taxation and finance. Then an abrupt return is made
from the effects to the causes of constitutions and polity. The theory of the
influence of physical conditions, and especially of climate, on political and
social institutions—a theory which is perhaps more than any other
identified with the book—receives special attention, and a somewhat
disproportionate space is given to the question of slavery in connection with
it. From climate Montesquieu passes to the nature of the soil, as in its turn
affecting civil polity. He then attacks the subject of manners and customs as
distinct from laws, of trade and commerce, of the family, of jurisprudence,
of religion. The book concludes with an elaborate examination of the feudal
system in France. Throughout it the reader is equally surprised at the varied
and exact knowledge of the author, and at his extraordinary fertility in
general views. This fertility is indeed sometimes a snare to him, and leads
to rash generalisation. But what has to be remembered is, that he was one of
the pioneers of this method of historical exploration, and that hundreds of
principles which, after correction by his successors, have passed into
general acceptance, were discovered, or at least enunciated, by him for the
first time. Nothing is more remarkable in Montesquieu, and nothing more
distinguishes him from the common run of his somewhat self-satisfied and
short-sighted successors, than the steady hold he keeps on the continuity of
history, and his superiority to the shallow view of his day (constantly put
forward by Voltaire), according to which the middle ages were a dark
paragraphs. But it is an excellent example of its kind, and especially
remarkable for the extreme clearness and lucidity with which the march and
sequence of events in the gross is exhibited.
The Esprit des Lois is, however, a far greater book than
either of these, and far more original. The title may be Esprit des Lois.
thought to be not altogether happy, and indeed rather
ambiguous, because it does not of itself suggest the extremely wide sense in
which the word law is intended to be taken. An exact if cumbrous title for
the book would be 'On the Relation of Human Laws and Customs to the
Laws of Nature.' The author begins somewhat formally with the old
distinction of politics into democracy, aristocracy, and monarchy. He
discusses the principles of each and their bearings on education, on positive
law, on social conditions, on military strength, offensive and defensive, on
individual liberty, on taxation and finance. Then an abrupt return is made
from the effects to the causes of constitutions and polity. The theory of the
influence of physical conditions, and especially of climate, on political and
social institutions—a theory which is perhaps more than any other
identified with the book—receives special attention, and a somewhat
disproportionate space is given to the question of slavery in connection with
it. From climate Montesquieu passes to the nature of the soil, as in its turn
affecting civil polity. He then attacks the subject of manners and customs as
distinct from laws, of trade and commerce, of the family, of jurisprudence,
of religion. The book concludes with an elaborate examination of the feudal
system in France. Throughout it the reader is equally surprised at the varied
and exact knowledge of the author, and at his extraordinary fertility in
general views. This fertility is indeed sometimes a snare to him, and leads
to rash generalisation. But what has to be remembered is, that he was one of
the pioneers of this method of historical exploration, and that hundreds of
principles which, after correction by his successors, have passed into
general acceptance, were discovered, or at least enunciated, by him for the
first time. Nothing is more remarkable in Montesquieu, and nothing more
distinguishes him from the common run of his somewhat self-satisfied and
short-sighted successors, than the steady hold he keeps on the continuity of
history, and his superiority to the shallow view of his day (constantly put
forward by Voltaire), according to which the middle ages were a dark
Page 494
period of barbarism, the study of which could be of no use to any one but a
mere curiosity hunter. Montesquieu too, almost alone of his contemporaries,
had a matured and moderate plan of political and social reform. While some
of them indulged in an idle and theoretical Republicanism, and others in the
old unpractical frondeur spirit, eager to pull down but careless about
building up, Montesquieu had conceived the idea of a limited monarchy, not
identical with that of England, but in many ways similar to it; an ideal
which in the first quarter of the eighteenth century might have been put in
practice with far better chance of success than in the first quarter of the
nineteenth. The merely literary merits of this great book are equal to its
philosophical merits. The vast mass of facts with which the author deals is
selected with remarkable judgment, and arranged with remarkable lucidity.
The style is sober, devoid of ornament, but admirably proportioned and
worked out. There are few greater books, not merely in French but in
literature, than the Esprit des Lois.
With Voltaire the case is very different. Very many of his
innumerable works have directly philosophical titles, but Voltaire.
no one of them is a work of much interest or merit. His
'Philosophic Letters,' 1733, published after his return from England, and the
source of much trouble to him, are the lively but not very trustworthy
medium of a contrast between English liberty and toleration and French
arbitrary government. His 'Discourses on Man,' and other verse of the same
kind, are verse-philosophy of the class of Pope's. The pompously named
'Treatise on Metaphysics,' 1734, is very much the same in substance if not
in form. The remarks on Pascal's Pensées are unimportant contributions to
the crusade against superstition; the Philosophical Dictionary, 1764, is a
heterogeneous collection of articles with the same object. The Essai sur les
Mœurs, 1756, composed not improbably in rivalry with Montesquieu,
contains much acute reflection on particulars, but is injured by the author's
imperfect information as to the subjects of which he was treating, by his
entirely unphilosophical contempt for the 'Dark Ages,' and indeed by the
absence of any general conception of history which can be called
philosophical. Voltaire's real importance, however, in connection with the
philosophe movement is to be found, not in the merit or value of any one of
his professedly philosophical books, but in the fact that all his works, his
poems, his plays, his histories, his romances, his innumerable flying essays
mere curiosity hunter. Montesquieu too, almost alone of his contemporaries,
had a matured and moderate plan of political and social reform. While some
of them indulged in an idle and theoretical Republicanism, and others in the
old unpractical frondeur spirit, eager to pull down but careless about
building up, Montesquieu had conceived the idea of a limited monarchy, not
identical with that of England, but in many ways similar to it; an ideal
which in the first quarter of the eighteenth century might have been put in
practice with far better chance of success than in the first quarter of the
nineteenth. The merely literary merits of this great book are equal to its
philosophical merits. The vast mass of facts with which the author deals is
selected with remarkable judgment, and arranged with remarkable lucidity.
The style is sober, devoid of ornament, but admirably proportioned and
worked out. There are few greater books, not merely in French but in
literature, than the Esprit des Lois.
With Voltaire the case is very different. Very many of his
innumerable works have directly philosophical titles, but Voltaire.
no one of them is a work of much interest or merit. His
'Philosophic Letters,' 1733, published after his return from England, and the
source of much trouble to him, are the lively but not very trustworthy
medium of a contrast between English liberty and toleration and French
arbitrary government. His 'Discourses on Man,' and other verse of the same
kind, are verse-philosophy of the class of Pope's. The pompously named
'Treatise on Metaphysics,' 1734, is very much the same in substance if not
in form. The remarks on Pascal's Pensées are unimportant contributions to
the crusade against superstition; the Philosophical Dictionary, 1764, is a
heterogeneous collection of articles with the same object. The Essai sur les
Mœurs, 1756, composed not improbably in rivalry with Montesquieu,
contains much acute reflection on particulars, but is injured by the author's
imperfect information as to the subjects of which he was treating, by his
entirely unphilosophical contempt for the 'Dark Ages,' and indeed by the
absence of any general conception of history which can be called
philosophical. Voltaire's real importance, however, in connection with the
philosophe movement is to be found, not in the merit or value of any one of
his professedly philosophical books, but in the fact that all his works, his
poems, his plays, his histories, his romances, his innumerable flying essays
Page 495
and papers of all sorts, were invariably saturated with its spirit, and helped
to communicate it to others. It cannot be said that Voltaire had any clear
conception of the object which he wished to attain, except in so far as the
famous watchword 'Écrasez l'Infâme' goes. This means not, as has been
erroneously thought, 'crush Christianity,' but 'crush persecuting
superstition.' He was by no means in favour of any political reform, except
as far as private rights were concerned. He would have liked the
exaggerated political privileges of the Church (which enabled it to
persecute dissidents, and inflicted on laymen an unfair share of taxation) to
be revoked, the cruel and irrational procedure of the French tribunals to be
reformed, Church lands to be in great part secularised, and so forth; but he
never seems to have faced the necessity of connecting these reforms with a
radical alteration of the whole system of government. The sharp point of his
ridicule was, however, always at the service of the aggressive party,
especially for what he had most at heart, the overthrow of dogmatic and
traditional theology and ecclesiasticism. For this purpose, as has been said
already, he was willing to make, and did make, all his works, no matter of
what kind (except a few scattered writings on mathematics and physics,
pure and simple, in which he took great interest), into more or less elaborate
pamphlets, and to put at the service of the movement his great position as
the head of French and indeed of European letters. His habitual inaccuracy,
and the inferiority of his mind in strictly logical faculty and in commanding
range of view, disabled him from really serious contributions to philosophy
of any kind. The curious mixture of defects and merits in this great writer is
apt to render piecemeal notice of him, such as is necessitated by the plan of
this book, apparently unfavourable. But no literary historian can take leave
of Voltaire with words of intentional disfavour. The mere fact that it has
been necessary to take detailed notice of him in every one of the last six
chapters, is roughly indicative of his unequalled versatility. But, versatile as
he is, there is perhaps no department of his work, save serious poetry and
criticism, in which from the literary point of view he fails to attain all but
the highest rank.
Montesquieu and Voltaire were, as has been said,
precursors rather than members of the philosophe group The Encyclopædia.
proper, which is identified with the Encyclopædia, and
to this group it is now time to come. The history of this famous book is
to communicate it to others. It cannot be said that Voltaire had any clear
conception of the object which he wished to attain, except in so far as the
famous watchword 'Écrasez l'Infâme' goes. This means not, as has been
erroneously thought, 'crush Christianity,' but 'crush persecuting
superstition.' He was by no means in favour of any political reform, except
as far as private rights were concerned. He would have liked the
exaggerated political privileges of the Church (which enabled it to
persecute dissidents, and inflicted on laymen an unfair share of taxation) to
be revoked, the cruel and irrational procedure of the French tribunals to be
reformed, Church lands to be in great part secularised, and so forth; but he
never seems to have faced the necessity of connecting these reforms with a
radical alteration of the whole system of government. The sharp point of his
ridicule was, however, always at the service of the aggressive party,
especially for what he had most at heart, the overthrow of dogmatic and
traditional theology and ecclesiasticism. For this purpose, as has been said
already, he was willing to make, and did make, all his works, no matter of
what kind (except a few scattered writings on mathematics and physics,
pure and simple, in which he took great interest), into more or less elaborate
pamphlets, and to put at the service of the movement his great position as
the head of French and indeed of European letters. His habitual inaccuracy,
and the inferiority of his mind in strictly logical faculty and in commanding
range of view, disabled him from really serious contributions to philosophy
of any kind. The curious mixture of defects and merits in this great writer is
apt to render piecemeal notice of him, such as is necessitated by the plan of
this book, apparently unfavourable. But no literary historian can take leave
of Voltaire with words of intentional disfavour. The mere fact that it has
been necessary to take detailed notice of him in every one of the last six
chapters, is roughly indicative of his unequalled versatility. But, versatile as
he is, there is perhaps no department of his work, save serious poetry and
criticism, in which from the literary point of view he fails to attain all but
the highest rank.
Montesquieu and Voltaire were, as has been said,
precursors rather than members of the philosophe group The Encyclopædia.
proper, which is identified with the Encyclopædia, and
to this group it is now time to come. The history of this famous book is
Page 496
rather curious. The English Cyclopædia of Ephraim Chambers had appeared
in 1727. About fifteen years after its publication a translation of it was
offered to and accepted by the French bookseller, Le Breton. But Le Breton
was not satisfied with a bare translation, and wished the book to be worked
up into something more extensive. He applied to different men of letters,
and finally to Diderot, who, enlisting the Chancellor d'Aguesseau in the
plan, obtaining privilege for the enlarged work, and mustering by degrees a
staff of contributors which included almost every man of letters of any
repute in France, succeeded in carrying it out. The task was anything but a
sinecure. It occupied nearly twenty years of Diderot's life; it was repeatedly
threatened and sometimes actually prohibited; and D'Alembert (Diderot's
principal coadjutor, and in fact co-editor) actually retired from it in disgust
at the obstacles thrown in their way. The book so produced was by no
means a mere pamphlet or controversial work, though many of the articles
were made polemical by those to whom they were entrusted. The principal
of its contributors however—Voltaire himself was one—became gradually
recognised as representing the criticism of existing institutions, many of
which, it must be confessed, were so bad at the time that simple
examination of them was in itself the severest censure. It becomes
necessary, therefore, to mention the names and works of the most
remarkable of this group who have not found or will not find a place
elsewhere.
Denis Diderot was born at Langres, on the 15th October,
1713. He was brilliantly successful at school, but on Diderot.
being required to choose a profession rejected both
church and law. It appears, however, that he studied medicine. His father, a
man of affectionate temper but strong will, refused to support him unless he
chose a regular mode of life, and Diderot at once set up for himself and
attempted literature. Not much is authentically known of his life till, in
1743, he married; but he seems to have lived partly by taking pupils, partly
by miscellaneous literary hack-work. After his marriage his household
expenses (and others) quickened his literary activity, and before long he
received, in the editorship of the Encyclopædia, a charge which, though
ridiculously ill paid and very laborious, practically secured him from want
for many years, while it gave him a very important position. He made many
friends, and was especially intimate with the Baron d'Holbach, a rich and
in 1727. About fifteen years after its publication a translation of it was
offered to and accepted by the French bookseller, Le Breton. But Le Breton
was not satisfied with a bare translation, and wished the book to be worked
up into something more extensive. He applied to different men of letters,
and finally to Diderot, who, enlisting the Chancellor d'Aguesseau in the
plan, obtaining privilege for the enlarged work, and mustering by degrees a
staff of contributors which included almost every man of letters of any
repute in France, succeeded in carrying it out. The task was anything but a
sinecure. It occupied nearly twenty years of Diderot's life; it was repeatedly
threatened and sometimes actually prohibited; and D'Alembert (Diderot's
principal coadjutor, and in fact co-editor) actually retired from it in disgust
at the obstacles thrown in their way. The book so produced was by no
means a mere pamphlet or controversial work, though many of the articles
were made polemical by those to whom they were entrusted. The principal
of its contributors however—Voltaire himself was one—became gradually
recognised as representing the criticism of existing institutions, many of
which, it must be confessed, were so bad at the time that simple
examination of them was in itself the severest censure. It becomes
necessary, therefore, to mention the names and works of the most
remarkable of this group who have not found or will not find a place
elsewhere.
Denis Diderot was born at Langres, on the 15th October,
1713. He was brilliantly successful at school, but on Diderot.
being required to choose a profession rejected both
church and law. It appears, however, that he studied medicine. His father, a
man of affectionate temper but strong will, refused to support him unless he
chose a regular mode of life, and Diderot at once set up for himself and
attempted literature. Not much is authentically known of his life till, in
1743, he married; but he seems to have lived partly by taking pupils, partly
by miscellaneous literary hack-work. After his marriage his household
expenses (and others) quickened his literary activity, and before long he
received, in the editorship of the Encyclopædia, a charge which, though
ridiculously ill paid and very laborious, practically secured him from want
for many years, while it gave him a very important position. He made many
friends, and was especially intimate with the Baron d'Holbach, a rich and
Page 497
hospitable man, and a great adept in chemistry and atheism. Before this
Diderot had had some troubles, being even imprisoned at Vincennes for his
Essai sur les Aveugles, 1749. Besides his Encyclopædia work Diderot was
lavish in contributing, often without either remuneration or
acknowledgment of any kind, to the work of other men, and especially to
the correspondence by which his friend Grimm kept the sovereigns of
Germany and Russia informed of the course of things in Paris. The most
remarkable of these contributions—criticisms of literature and art—have
been noticed elsewhere, as have Diderot's historical and fictitious
productions. As he grew old his necessities were met by a handsome act of
Catherine of Russia, who bought his library, left him the use of it, and gave
him a pension nominally as payment for his trouble as caretaker. He made,
in 1773, a journey to St. Petersburg to pay his thanks, and on his return
stayed for some time in Holland. He died in Paris in 1784. Diderot's
miscellaneous works are, like Voltaire's, penetrated by the philosophe spirit,
but it is less prominent, owing to his greater acquaintance with the
individual matters which he handled. His contributions to definite
philosophical literature are not unimportant. He began by an 'Essay on
Merit and Virtue,' 1745, imitated from Shaftesbury, and by some more
original Pensées Philosophiques. These pieces were followed by La
Promenade du Sceptique, written somewhat in the fashion of Berkeley's
Alciphron, and by some minor treatises, the most important of which are the
Lettres sur les Sourds et Muets, and by the already mentioned Lettre sur les
Aveugles, which led to his imprisonment, with some 'Thoughts on the
Interpretation of Nature.' A singular and characteristic book containing not a
few acute but fantastic ideas is Le Rêve de D'Alembert, which, like an
elaborate criticism on Helvétius' De l'Homme, was not printed during
Diderot's life. The Essai sur les Règnes de Claude et de Néron was one of
the latest of Diderot's works, and is a kind of historico-philosophical
disquisition. The last piece of any importance which is included in the
philosophical works of Diderot is an extensive scheme for a Russian
university.
The characteristics of Diderot's philosophical works are the same as the
characteristics of those other works of his which have been noticed, and his
general position as a writer may well be considered here. There has seldom
been an author who was more fertile in ideas. It is impossible to name a
Diderot had had some troubles, being even imprisoned at Vincennes for his
Essai sur les Aveugles, 1749. Besides his Encyclopædia work Diderot was
lavish in contributing, often without either remuneration or
acknowledgment of any kind, to the work of other men, and especially to
the correspondence by which his friend Grimm kept the sovereigns of
Germany and Russia informed of the course of things in Paris. The most
remarkable of these contributions—criticisms of literature and art—have
been noticed elsewhere, as have Diderot's historical and fictitious
productions. As he grew old his necessities were met by a handsome act of
Catherine of Russia, who bought his library, left him the use of it, and gave
him a pension nominally as payment for his trouble as caretaker. He made,
in 1773, a journey to St. Petersburg to pay his thanks, and on his return
stayed for some time in Holland. He died in Paris in 1784. Diderot's
miscellaneous works are, like Voltaire's, penetrated by the philosophe spirit,
but it is less prominent, owing to his greater acquaintance with the
individual matters which he handled. His contributions to definite
philosophical literature are not unimportant. He began by an 'Essay on
Merit and Virtue,' 1745, imitated from Shaftesbury, and by some more
original Pensées Philosophiques. These pieces were followed by La
Promenade du Sceptique, written somewhat in the fashion of Berkeley's
Alciphron, and by some minor treatises, the most important of which are the
Lettres sur les Sourds et Muets, and by the already mentioned Lettre sur les
Aveugles, which led to his imprisonment, with some 'Thoughts on the
Interpretation of Nature.' A singular and characteristic book containing not a
few acute but fantastic ideas is Le Rêve de D'Alembert, which, like an
elaborate criticism on Helvétius' De l'Homme, was not printed during
Diderot's life. The Essai sur les Règnes de Claude et de Néron was one of
the latest of Diderot's works, and is a kind of historico-philosophical
disquisition. The last piece of any importance which is included in the
philosophical works of Diderot is an extensive scheme for a Russian
university.
The characteristics of Diderot's philosophical works are the same as the
characteristics of those other works of his which have been noticed, and his
general position as a writer may well be considered here. There has seldom
been an author who was more fertile in ideas. It is impossible to name a
Page 498
subject which Diderot has not treated, and hardly possible to name one on
which he has not said striking and memorable things. The peculiarity of his
mind was, that it could adjust itself, with hardly any effort, to any subject
presented to it, grasp that subject and express thoughts on it in a novel and
effective manner. He had moreover, what some other men of his century,
notably Voltaire, lacked, a vast supply of positive information on the
subjects with which he dealt, and an entire independence of conventional
points of view in dealing with them. This independence was in some
respects pushed to an unfortunate length, exposing him (whether deservedly
or not, is an exceedingly difficult point to resolve) to the charge of atheism,
and (beyond all doubts deservedly) to the charge of wilful disregard of the
accepted decencies of language. Another and very serious fault, arising
partly from temperament and partly from circumstances, was the want of
needful pains and deliberation which characterises most of Diderot's work.
That work is extremely voluminous, and even as it is, we have not anything
like the whole of it in a collected form. Indeed, by far the larger part was
never given to the world by the author himself in any deliberate or finished
shape, and much of what he did publish was the result of mere
improvisation. The consequence is, that Diderot is accused, not without
truth, of having written good passages, but no good book, and that a full
appreciation of his genius is only to be obtained by a most laborious process
of wading through hundreds and thousands of pages of very inferior work.
The result of that process, however, is never likely to be doubtful in the case
of competent examiners. It is the conviction that Diderot ranks in point of
originality and versatility of thought among the most fertile thinkers of
France, and in point of felicity and idiosyncrasy of expression, among the
most remarkable of her writers.
His coadjutor during the earlier part of his great work
was a man curiously different from himself. Diderot was D'Alembert.
a rapid and careless writer, devoted to general society
and conversation, interested in everything that was brought to his notice,
passionate, unselfish, frequently extravagant. Jean le Rond d'Alembert (who
was really an illegitimate son of Madame de Tencin by an uncertain father)
was an extraordinarily careful writer, a man of retired habits, reserved, self-
centred and phlegmatic. He was born in 1717, was exposed on the steps of a
church, but was brought up carefully by a foster-mother of the lower
which he has not said striking and memorable things. The peculiarity of his
mind was, that it could adjust itself, with hardly any effort, to any subject
presented to it, grasp that subject and express thoughts on it in a novel and
effective manner. He had moreover, what some other men of his century,
notably Voltaire, lacked, a vast supply of positive information on the
subjects with which he dealt, and an entire independence of conventional
points of view in dealing with them. This independence was in some
respects pushed to an unfortunate length, exposing him (whether deservedly
or not, is an exceedingly difficult point to resolve) to the charge of atheism,
and (beyond all doubts deservedly) to the charge of wilful disregard of the
accepted decencies of language. Another and very serious fault, arising
partly from temperament and partly from circumstances, was the want of
needful pains and deliberation which characterises most of Diderot's work.
That work is extremely voluminous, and even as it is, we have not anything
like the whole of it in a collected form. Indeed, by far the larger part was
never given to the world by the author himself in any deliberate or finished
shape, and much of what he did publish was the result of mere
improvisation. The consequence is, that Diderot is accused, not without
truth, of having written good passages, but no good book, and that a full
appreciation of his genius is only to be obtained by a most laborious process
of wading through hundreds and thousands of pages of very inferior work.
The result of that process, however, is never likely to be doubtful in the case
of competent examiners. It is the conviction that Diderot ranks in point of
originality and versatility of thought among the most fertile thinkers of
France, and in point of felicity and idiosyncrasy of expression, among the
most remarkable of her writers.
His coadjutor during the earlier part of his great work
was a man curiously different from himself. Diderot was D'Alembert.
a rapid and careless writer, devoted to general society
and conversation, interested in everything that was brought to his notice,
passionate, unselfish, frequently extravagant. Jean le Rond d'Alembert (who
was really an illegitimate son of Madame de Tencin by an uncertain father)
was an extraordinarily careful writer, a man of retired habits, reserved, self-
centred and phlegmatic. He was born in 1717, was exposed on the steps of a
church, but was brought up carefully by a foster-mother of the lower
Page 499
classes, to whom he was consigned by the authorities, and had a not
insufficient annuity settled upon him by his supposed father. He was
educated at the Collège Mazarin, and early showed great aptitude for
mathematics, in which equally with literature he distinguished himself in
after years. He was elected a member of the Academy of Sciences as early
as at the age of four-and-twenty. After he had joined Diderot, he wrote a
preliminary discourse for the Encyclopædia—a famous and admirable
sketch of the sciences—besides many articles. Of these, one on Geneva
brought the book into more trouble than almost any other contribution,
though D'Alembert was equally moderate as a thinker and as a writer.
D'Alembert, as has been said, retired from the work after this storm, being
above all things solicitous of peace and quietness. His refusals of the offers
of Frederick II. in 1752 to go to Berlin as President of the Academy, and of
Catherine II. to undertake, at what was then an enormous salary, the
education of the Grand Duke Paul, have been variously taken as evidence of
his disinterestedness, and of his shrewd dislike to possibly false positions,
and the chance of such experiences as those of Voltaire. In his later life he
and Mademoiselle de Lespinasse, as has been mentioned, kept house
together. He died shortly before Diderot, in 1783. Perhaps his best literary
works are his already mentioned Academic Éloges, or obituaries on
important men of letters and science. D'Alembert contributed to the
movement exactness of thought and precision of style, but his influence was
more purely intellectual than that of any other member of the philosophe
group.
The connection of Rousseau with the Encyclopædia
itself was brief and not important. Yet it is here that his Rousseau.
personal and general literary character and achievements
may be most conveniently treated. Jean Jacques Rousseau was born at
Geneva, on the 28th of June, 1712, of a family which had emigrated from
France during the religious troubles. His father was a watchmaker, his
mother died when he was very young. His education was not exactly
neglected, but he went to no regular school, which, considering his
peculiarities, was perhaps a misfortune. After being introduced to the law
and to engraving, in both cases with ill success, he ran away and practically
continued a vagabond to the end of his life. He served as a footman, was an
inmate of a kind of proselytising almshouse at Turin, and went through
insufficient annuity settled upon him by his supposed father. He was
educated at the Collège Mazarin, and early showed great aptitude for
mathematics, in which equally with literature he distinguished himself in
after years. He was elected a member of the Academy of Sciences as early
as at the age of four-and-twenty. After he had joined Diderot, he wrote a
preliminary discourse for the Encyclopædia—a famous and admirable
sketch of the sciences—besides many articles. Of these, one on Geneva
brought the book into more trouble than almost any other contribution,
though D'Alembert was equally moderate as a thinker and as a writer.
D'Alembert, as has been said, retired from the work after this storm, being
above all things solicitous of peace and quietness. His refusals of the offers
of Frederick II. in 1752 to go to Berlin as President of the Academy, and of
Catherine II. to undertake, at what was then an enormous salary, the
education of the Grand Duke Paul, have been variously taken as evidence of
his disinterestedness, and of his shrewd dislike to possibly false positions,
and the chance of such experiences as those of Voltaire. In his later life he
and Mademoiselle de Lespinasse, as has been mentioned, kept house
together. He died shortly before Diderot, in 1783. Perhaps his best literary
works are his already mentioned Academic Éloges, or obituaries on
important men of letters and science. D'Alembert contributed to the
movement exactness of thought and precision of style, but his influence was
more purely intellectual than that of any other member of the philosophe
group.
The connection of Rousseau with the Encyclopædia
itself was brief and not important. Yet it is here that his Rousseau.
personal and general literary character and achievements
may be most conveniently treated. Jean Jacques Rousseau was born at
Geneva, on the 28th of June, 1712, of a family which had emigrated from
France during the religious troubles. His father was a watchmaker, his
mother died when he was very young. His education was not exactly
neglected, but he went to no regular school, which, considering his
peculiarities, was perhaps a misfortune. After being introduced to the law
and to engraving, in both cases with ill success, he ran away and practically
continued a vagabond to the end of his life. He served as a footman, was an
inmate of a kind of proselytising almshouse at Turin, and went through
Page 500
many odd adventures, for which there is the dubious authority of his strange
Confessions. When he was just of age, he was taken in by Madame de
Warens, a Savoyard lady of birth and position, who had before been kind to
him. With her he lived for some time, chiefly at Les Charmettes, near
Chambéry. But being superseded in her good graces, he went to Lyons,
where he lived by teaching. Thence he went to Paris, having little to depend
on but an imperfect knowledge of music. In 1741 he was attached to the
French Embassy at Venice under M. de Montaigu, but (as he did all through
his life) he quarrelled in some way with his patron, and returned to Paris.
Here he became intimate with Diderot, Grimm, and all the philosophe
circle, especially with Madame d'Epinay. She established him in a cottage
called the Hermitage with his companion Thérèse le Vasseur, whose
acquaintance he had made in Paris, and whom he afterwards married. The
extraordinary quarrel which took place between Rousseau and Diderot has
been endlessly written about. It need only be said that Rousseau showed his
usual temper and judgment, that Diderot was to all appearance quite
guiltless, and that the chief fault lay elsewhere, probably with Grimm. For a
time the Duke of Luxembourg protected him, then he was obliged, or
thought himself obliged, to go into exile. Marshal Keith, Governor of
Neufchatel for the King of Prussia, received and protected him, with the
inevitable result that Rousseau considered it impossible to continue in this
as in every other refuge. David Hume was his next good angel, and carried
him to England in 1766. But the same drama repeated itself, as it did
subsequently with the Prince de Conti and with Madame d'Enghien.
Rousseau's last protector was M. de Girardin, who gave him, after he had
lived in Paris in comparative quiet for several years, a home at
Ermenonville in 1778. He did not outlive the year, dying in a somewhat
mysterious fashion, which has never been fully explained, on the 2nd of
July.
Rousseau was a man of middle age before he produced any literary work of
importance. He had in his youth been given to music, and indeed
throughout his life the slender profits of music copying were almost his
only independent source of income. His knowledge of the subject was far
from scientific, but he produced an operetta which was not unsuccessful,
and, but for his singular temperament, he might have followed up the
success. His first literary work of importance was a prose essay for the
Confessions. When he was just of age, he was taken in by Madame de
Warens, a Savoyard lady of birth and position, who had before been kind to
him. With her he lived for some time, chiefly at Les Charmettes, near
Chambéry. But being superseded in her good graces, he went to Lyons,
where he lived by teaching. Thence he went to Paris, having little to depend
on but an imperfect knowledge of music. In 1741 he was attached to the
French Embassy at Venice under M. de Montaigu, but (as he did all through
his life) he quarrelled in some way with his patron, and returned to Paris.
Here he became intimate with Diderot, Grimm, and all the philosophe
circle, especially with Madame d'Epinay. She established him in a cottage
called the Hermitage with his companion Thérèse le Vasseur, whose
acquaintance he had made in Paris, and whom he afterwards married. The
extraordinary quarrel which took place between Rousseau and Diderot has
been endlessly written about. It need only be said that Rousseau showed his
usual temper and judgment, that Diderot was to all appearance quite
guiltless, and that the chief fault lay elsewhere, probably with Grimm. For a
time the Duke of Luxembourg protected him, then he was obliged, or
thought himself obliged, to go into exile. Marshal Keith, Governor of
Neufchatel for the King of Prussia, received and protected him, with the
inevitable result that Rousseau considered it impossible to continue in this
as in every other refuge. David Hume was his next good angel, and carried
him to England in 1766. But the same drama repeated itself, as it did
subsequently with the Prince de Conti and with Madame d'Enghien.
Rousseau's last protector was M. de Girardin, who gave him, after he had
lived in Paris in comparative quiet for several years, a home at
Ermenonville in 1778. He did not outlive the year, dying in a somewhat
mysterious fashion, which has never been fully explained, on the 2nd of
July.
Rousseau was a man of middle age before he produced any literary work of
importance. He had in his youth been given to music, and indeed
throughout his life the slender profits of music copying were almost his
only independent source of income. His knowledge of the subject was far
from scientific, but he produced an operetta which was not unsuccessful,
and, but for his singular temperament, he might have followed up the
success. His first literary work of importance was a prose essay for the
Page 501
Dijon Academy on the subject of the effects of civilisation on society.
Either of his own motion, or at the suggestion of Diderot, Rousseau took the
apparently paradoxical line of arguing that all improvements on the savage
life had been curses rather than blessings, and he gained the prize. In 1755
his Discours sur l'Origine de l'Inégalité appeared at Amsterdam; in 1760
his famous novel Julie, and in 1764 Emile, both of which have been spoken
of already. Between the two appeared the still more famous and influential
Contrat Social. Of the other works of Rousseau published during his
lifetime, the most famous, perhaps, was his letter to D'Alembert on the
subject of the introduction of theatrical performances into Geneva, a
characteristic paradox which made a bitter enemy of the most powerful of
French men of letters. Besides these, the Rêveries d'un Promeneur Solitaire,
the Lettres de la Montagne, and above all, the unique Confessions, have to
be reckoned. The last, like several of Rousseau's other works, did not
appear till after his death.
Of all the writers mentioned in this chapter the influence of Rousseau on
literature and on life was probably the largest. He was the direct inspirer of
the men who made the French Revolution, and the theories of his Contrat
Social were closer at the root of Jacobin politics than any other. His fervid
declamation about equality and brotherhood, and his sentimental
republicanism, were seed as well suited to the soil in which they were sown
as Montesquieu's reasoned constitutionalism was unsuited to it. Rousseau,
indeed, if the proof of the excellence of preaching is in the practice of the
hearers, was the greatest preacher of the century. He denounced the practice
of putting infants out to nurse, and mothers began to suckle their own
children; he recommended instruction in useful arts, and many an émigré
noble had to thank Rousseau for being able to earn his bread in exile; he
denounced speculative atheism, urging the undogmatic but emotional creed
of his Vicaire Savoyard, and the first wave of the religious reaction was set
going to culminate in the Catholic movement of Chateaubriand and
Lamennais. But in literature itself his influence was quite as powerful. He
was not, indeed, the founder of the school of analysis of feeling in the
novel, but he was the populariser of it. He was almost the founder of
sentimentalism in general literature, and he was absolutely the first to make
word-painting of nature an almost indispensable element of all imaginative
and fictitious writing both in prose and poetry. Some of his characteristics
Either of his own motion, or at the suggestion of Diderot, Rousseau took the
apparently paradoxical line of arguing that all improvements on the savage
life had been curses rather than blessings, and he gained the prize. In 1755
his Discours sur l'Origine de l'Inégalité appeared at Amsterdam; in 1760
his famous novel Julie, and in 1764 Emile, both of which have been spoken
of already. Between the two appeared the still more famous and influential
Contrat Social. Of the other works of Rousseau published during his
lifetime, the most famous, perhaps, was his letter to D'Alembert on the
subject of the introduction of theatrical performances into Geneva, a
characteristic paradox which made a bitter enemy of the most powerful of
French men of letters. Besides these, the Rêveries d'un Promeneur Solitaire,
the Lettres de la Montagne, and above all, the unique Confessions, have to
be reckoned. The last, like several of Rousseau's other works, did not
appear till after his death.
Of all the writers mentioned in this chapter the influence of Rousseau on
literature and on life was probably the largest. He was the direct inspirer of
the men who made the French Revolution, and the theories of his Contrat
Social were closer at the root of Jacobin politics than any other. His fervid
declamation about equality and brotherhood, and his sentimental
republicanism, were seed as well suited to the soil in which they were sown
as Montesquieu's reasoned constitutionalism was unsuited to it. Rousseau,
indeed, if the proof of the excellence of preaching is in the practice of the
hearers, was the greatest preacher of the century. He denounced the practice
of putting infants out to nurse, and mothers began to suckle their own
children; he recommended instruction in useful arts, and many an émigré
noble had to thank Rousseau for being able to earn his bread in exile; he
denounced speculative atheism, urging the undogmatic but emotional creed
of his Vicaire Savoyard, and the first wave of the religious reaction was set
going to culminate in the Catholic movement of Chateaubriand and
Lamennais. But in literature itself his influence was quite as powerful. He
was not, indeed, the founder of the school of analysis of feeling in the
novel, but he was the populariser of it. He was almost the founder of
sentimentalism in general literature, and he was absolutely the first to make
word-painting of nature an almost indispensable element of all imaginative
and fictitious writing both in prose and poetry. Some of his characteristics
Page 502
were taken up in quick succession by Goethe in Germany, by Bernardin de
St. Pierre and Chateaubriand in France. Others were for the time less
eagerly imitated, and though Madame de Stael and her lover Benjamin
Constant did something to spread them, it was reserved for the Romantic
movement to develop them fully. It was singular, no doubt, and this is not
the place to undertake the explanation of the singularity, that Rousseau, who
detested most of the conclusions, and almost all the methods of the
Encyclopædists, should be counted in with them, and should have
undoubtedly helped in the first place to accomplish their result. But such is
the case. His peculiar literary characteristics are perhaps better exhibited in
the Confessions and in the miscellaneous works, than in either of the
novels. The Contrat Social is a very remarkable piece of pseudo-argument.
It is felt from the first that the whole assumption on which it reposes is
historically false and philosophically absurd. Yet there is an appearance of
speciousness in the arguments, an adroit mixture of logic and rhetoric, of
order and method, which is exceedingly seductive. The Confession du
Vicaire Savoyard, with many passages allied to it in the smaller works, has,
despite the staleness of the language (which was hackneyed by a thousand
empty talkers during the Revolution), not a little dignity and persuasive
force. But it is in the Confessions that the literary power of the author
appears at its fullest. Never, perhaps, was a more miserable story of human
weakness revealed, and the peculiar thing is that Rousseau does not limit
his exhibitions of himself to exhibitions of engaging frailty. The acts which
he admits are in many cases indescribably base, mean, and disgusting. The
course of conduct which he portrays is at its best that of a man entirely
destitute of governing will, petulant, often positively ungrateful, always
playing into the hands of the enemies whom his hallucinations supposed to
exist, and frustrating the efforts of the friends whom he allows himself, if
only for a time, to have possessed. Yet the narrative and dramatic skill with
which all this is presented is so great, that there is hardly room for a sense
of repulsion which is merged in interest, not necessarily sympathetic
interest, but still interest. Of the feeling for natural beauty, which is
everywhere present in these remarkable works, it is enough to say that in
French prose literature, it may almost be said in the prose literature of
Europe, it was entirely original. Part of Rousseau's devotion to nature arose
no doubt from his moody and retiring temperament, which led him to
rejoice in anything rather than the society of his fellow men. But this would
St. Pierre and Chateaubriand in France. Others were for the time less
eagerly imitated, and though Madame de Stael and her lover Benjamin
Constant did something to spread them, it was reserved for the Romantic
movement to develop them fully. It was singular, no doubt, and this is not
the place to undertake the explanation of the singularity, that Rousseau, who
detested most of the conclusions, and almost all the methods of the
Encyclopædists, should be counted in with them, and should have
undoubtedly helped in the first place to accomplish their result. But such is
the case. His peculiar literary characteristics are perhaps better exhibited in
the Confessions and in the miscellaneous works, than in either of the
novels. The Contrat Social is a very remarkable piece of pseudo-argument.
It is felt from the first that the whole assumption on which it reposes is
historically false and philosophically absurd. Yet there is an appearance of
speciousness in the arguments, an adroit mixture of logic and rhetoric, of
order and method, which is exceedingly seductive. The Confession du
Vicaire Savoyard, with many passages allied to it in the smaller works, has,
despite the staleness of the language (which was hackneyed by a thousand
empty talkers during the Revolution), not a little dignity and persuasive
force. But it is in the Confessions that the literary power of the author
appears at its fullest. Never, perhaps, was a more miserable story of human
weakness revealed, and the peculiar thing is that Rousseau does not limit
his exhibitions of himself to exhibitions of engaging frailty. The acts which
he admits are in many cases indescribably base, mean, and disgusting. The
course of conduct which he portrays is at its best that of a man entirely
destitute of governing will, petulant, often positively ungrateful, always
playing into the hands of the enemies whom his hallucinations supposed to
exist, and frustrating the efforts of the friends whom he allows himself, if
only for a time, to have possessed. Yet the narrative and dramatic skill with
which all this is presented is so great, that there is hardly room for a sense
of repulsion which is merged in interest, not necessarily sympathetic
interest, but still interest. Of the feeling for natural beauty, which is
everywhere present in these remarkable works, it is enough to say that in
French prose literature, it may almost be said in the prose literature of
Europe, it was entirely original. Part of Rousseau's devotion to nature arose
no doubt from his moody and retiring temperament, which led him to
rejoice in anything rather than the society of his fellow men. But this would
Page 503
not of itself have given him the literary skill with which he expresses these
feelings. It is not so much in set descriptions of particular scenes as in slight
occasional thoughts, embodying the emotions experienced at the sight of a
flower, a lake-surface, a mountain side, a forest glade, that this mastery is
shown. Yet of the more elaborate passages of this kind in other writers few
can surpass the best things of the Nouvelle Héloïse, the Confessions, and the
Rêveries. There is nothing novel to readers of the present day in such
things, though they are seldom done so happily. But to the readers of
Rousseau's day they were absolutely novel. It is in this that the main literary
importance of Rousseau consists, though it must not be forgotten that he is
in many ways a master of French prose. His contemporaries made use of his
Genevan origin to find fault with his style; but with a few insignificant
exceptions the criticism has no foundation. It has been very frequently
renewed, and sometimes with little better reason, in the case of Swiss
authors.
Round these chiefs of the Encyclopædic movement were grouped many
lesser men, some of whom will be most conveniently noticed here.
Marmontel, Morellet, and Saint-Lambert, whose chief importance lay in
other directions, were contributors. The Chevalier de Jaucourt, a man of no
original power, but a hack-writer of extraordinary aptitude, took
considerable part in it. There were others, however, who, partly within and
partly without the range of the Encyclopædia, had no small share in the
promotion of what has been called the philosophe movement. Some of
these have found their place under the head of Essayists. There is, however,
one remarkable division, which must be treated here—the division of
economists—before we pass to the philosophers properly so called, who
either continued the metaphysics of Locke in a directly materialist sense, or
who, restraining themselves to sensationalism, made the most of the
English philosopher in that direction.
The science of 'Political Arithmetic,' as it was first called
in England, had a somewhat earlier birth in France than Political
in England itself. It is remarkable that the complete Economists.
Vauban, Quesnay,
establishment of the royal authority under Louis XIV. etc.
preceded but by a very few years the examination of the
economic condition of the kingdom by unsparing examiners. The two chief
of these, both of whom fell into disgrace for their doings, were the great
feelings. It is not so much in set descriptions of particular scenes as in slight
occasional thoughts, embodying the emotions experienced at the sight of a
flower, a lake-surface, a mountain side, a forest glade, that this mastery is
shown. Yet of the more elaborate passages of this kind in other writers few
can surpass the best things of the Nouvelle Héloïse, the Confessions, and the
Rêveries. There is nothing novel to readers of the present day in such
things, though they are seldom done so happily. But to the readers of
Rousseau's day they were absolutely novel. It is in this that the main literary
importance of Rousseau consists, though it must not be forgotten that he is
in many ways a master of French prose. His contemporaries made use of his
Genevan origin to find fault with his style; but with a few insignificant
exceptions the criticism has no foundation. It has been very frequently
renewed, and sometimes with little better reason, in the case of Swiss
authors.
Round these chiefs of the Encyclopædic movement were grouped many
lesser men, some of whom will be most conveniently noticed here.
Marmontel, Morellet, and Saint-Lambert, whose chief importance lay in
other directions, were contributors. The Chevalier de Jaucourt, a man of no
original power, but a hack-writer of extraordinary aptitude, took
considerable part in it. There were others, however, who, partly within and
partly without the range of the Encyclopædia, had no small share in the
promotion of what has been called the philosophe movement. Some of
these have found their place under the head of Essayists. There is, however,
one remarkable division, which must be treated here—the division of
economists—before we pass to the philosophers properly so called, who
either continued the metaphysics of Locke in a directly materialist sense, or
who, restraining themselves to sensationalism, made the most of the
English philosopher in that direction.
The science of 'Political Arithmetic,' as it was first called
in England, had a somewhat earlier birth in France than Political
in England itself. It is remarkable that the complete Economists.
Vauban, Quesnay,
establishment of the royal authority under Louis XIV. etc.
preceded but by a very few years the examination of the
economic condition of the kingdom by unsparing examiners. The two chief
of these, both of whom fell into disgrace for their doings, were the great
Page 504
engineer Vauban, and the great theologian Fénelon. The latter was attracted
to the subject chiefly by compassion for the sufferings of the people, and
expressed his opinion in a manner more rhetorical than scientific. Vauban's
course was naturally different. In the later years of his life he set himself to
the collection of statistical facts as to the economic condition of France, and
the result was the two books called Oisivetés de M. de Vauban and La Dîme
Royale, 1707. The former of these contained the facts, the latter the
deduction from them, which was, to put it briefly, that the existing system
of privilege, exemption, and irregular taxation was a loss to the Crown, and
a torment to the people. Vauban received the reward of his labours, attention
to which would probably have prevented the French Revolution, in the
shape of the royal displeasure, and nothing came immediately of his
investigations. In the next century, however, a regular sect of political
economists arose. They had, indeed, been preceded by an eccentric man of
letters, the Abbé de Saint-Pierre, who occupied his life in propounding
Utopian schemes of universal peace and general prosperity. But the first and
greatest of the economists properly so called was Quesnay. The extreme
misery of the common people attracted his attention, and set him upon
calculating the causes and remedies of periodical failings. He was himself a
frequent contributor to the Encyclopædia. Many others of the philosophe set
occupied themselves with these and similar subjects, notably the Abbés
Morellet and Galiani. The former was a man of a certain vigour (Voltaire
called him 'L'Abbé Mord-Les'), the latter has been noticed already. His
Dialogue sur le Commerce des Blés acquired for him a great reputation.
Very many writers, among them the father of the great
Mirabeau (in his curious and able, though unequal and Turgot.
ill-proportioned Ami des Hommes), attacked economical
subjects at this time. But Turgot, though not remarkable for the form of his
writings, was the most original and influential writer of the liberal school in
this department. He was a Norman by birth, and of a good legal family. He
was born in 1727, and, being destined for the Church, was educated at the
Sorbonne. Turgot, however, shared to the full the philosophe ideas of the
time as to theological orthodoxy, and did not share the usual philosophe
ideas as to concealment of his principles for comfort's sake. He refused to
take orders, turning his attention to the law and the Civil Service instead of
the Church. His family had considerable influence, and at the age of
to the subject chiefly by compassion for the sufferings of the people, and
expressed his opinion in a manner more rhetorical than scientific. Vauban's
course was naturally different. In the later years of his life he set himself to
the collection of statistical facts as to the economic condition of France, and
the result was the two books called Oisivetés de M. de Vauban and La Dîme
Royale, 1707. The former of these contained the facts, the latter the
deduction from them, which was, to put it briefly, that the existing system
of privilege, exemption, and irregular taxation was a loss to the Crown, and
a torment to the people. Vauban received the reward of his labours, attention
to which would probably have prevented the French Revolution, in the
shape of the royal displeasure, and nothing came immediately of his
investigations. In the next century, however, a regular sect of political
economists arose. They had, indeed, been preceded by an eccentric man of
letters, the Abbé de Saint-Pierre, who occupied his life in propounding
Utopian schemes of universal peace and general prosperity. But the first and
greatest of the economists properly so called was Quesnay. The extreme
misery of the common people attracted his attention, and set him upon
calculating the causes and remedies of periodical failings. He was himself a
frequent contributor to the Encyclopædia. Many others of the philosophe set
occupied themselves with these and similar subjects, notably the Abbés
Morellet and Galiani. The former was a man of a certain vigour (Voltaire
called him 'L'Abbé Mord-Les'), the latter has been noticed already. His
Dialogue sur le Commerce des Blés acquired for him a great reputation.
Very many writers, among them the father of the great
Mirabeau (in his curious and able, though unequal and Turgot.
ill-proportioned Ami des Hommes), attacked economical
subjects at this time. But Turgot, though not remarkable for the form of his
writings, was the most original and influential writer of the liberal school in
this department. He was a Norman by birth, and of a good legal family. He
was born in 1727, and, being destined for the Church, was educated at the
Sorbonne. Turgot, however, shared to the full the philosophe ideas of the
time as to theological orthodoxy, and did not share the usual philosophe
ideas as to concealment of his principles for comfort's sake. He refused to
take orders, turning his attention to the law and the Civil Service instead of
the Church. His family had considerable influence, and at the age of
Page 505
twenty-four he was appointed intendant of Limoges, a post which gave him
practical control of the government of a large, though barren and neglected,
province. His achievements in the way of administrative reform here were
remarkable, and, had they been generally imitated, might have brought
about a very different state of things in France. After the death of Louis
XV., he was recommended by Maurepas to a far more important office, the
controllership of finance. Here, too, he did great things; but his attack on
the privileged orders was ill-seconded, and, after holding his post for about
two years, he had to resign, partly, it is true, owing to a certain
unaccommodating rigidity of demeanour, which was one of his least
amiable characteristics. He died in 1781. Turgot's literary work is not
extensive, and it is not distinguished by its style. It consists of certain
discourses at the Sorbonne, of memoirs on various political occasions, of
some letters on usury, of articles in the Encyclopædia, of which the most
noteworthy is one on endowments, etc. All are remarkable as containing the
germs of what may be accepted as the modern liberal doctrines on the
various points of which they treat, while the second Sorbonne discourse is
entitled to the credit of first clearly announcing the principle of the
philosophy of history, the doctrine, that is to say, that human progress
follows regular laws of development, certain sets of causes invariably
tending to bring about certain sets of results.
With the name of Turgot that of Condorcet is
inseparably connected, and though far less important in Condorcet.
the history of thought, it is perhaps more prominent in
the history of literature, for the pupil and biographer (in both of which
relations Condorcet stood to Turgot) was, though a far less original and
vigorous thinker, a better writer than his master and subject. Jean Antoine
Nicolas de Caritat, styled Marquis de Condorcet, was born in 1743, near St.
Quentin, and early distinguished himself both in mathematics and in the
belles lettres. He became Secretary of the Academy in 1777, and he
afterwards wrote the Life of Turgot, whose method of dealing with
economic questions (a more practical and less abstract one than that of the
earlier economists) he had already followed. He took a considerable part in
the French Revolution, serving both in the Legislative Assembly and in the
Convention. In the latter he became identified with the Girondist party, and
shared their troubles. His best known work, the Esquisse des Progrès de
practical control of the government of a large, though barren and neglected,
province. His achievements in the way of administrative reform here were
remarkable, and, had they been generally imitated, might have brought
about a very different state of things in France. After the death of Louis
XV., he was recommended by Maurepas to a far more important office, the
controllership of finance. Here, too, he did great things; but his attack on
the privileged orders was ill-seconded, and, after holding his post for about
two years, he had to resign, partly, it is true, owing to a certain
unaccommodating rigidity of demeanour, which was one of his least
amiable characteristics. He died in 1781. Turgot's literary work is not
extensive, and it is not distinguished by its style. It consists of certain
discourses at the Sorbonne, of memoirs on various political occasions, of
some letters on usury, of articles in the Encyclopædia, of which the most
noteworthy is one on endowments, etc. All are remarkable as containing the
germs of what may be accepted as the modern liberal doctrines on the
various points of which they treat, while the second Sorbonne discourse is
entitled to the credit of first clearly announcing the principle of the
philosophy of history, the doctrine, that is to say, that human progress
follows regular laws of development, certain sets of causes invariably
tending to bring about certain sets of results.
With the name of Turgot that of Condorcet is
inseparably connected, and though far less important in Condorcet.
the history of thought, it is perhaps more prominent in
the history of literature, for the pupil and biographer (in both of which
relations Condorcet stood to Turgot) was, though a far less original and
vigorous thinker, a better writer than his master and subject. Jean Antoine
Nicolas de Caritat, styled Marquis de Condorcet, was born in 1743, near St.
Quentin, and early distinguished himself both in mathematics and in the
belles lettres. He became Secretary of the Academy in 1777, and he
afterwards wrote the Life of Turgot, whose method of dealing with
economic questions (a more practical and less abstract one than that of the
earlier economists) he had already followed. He took a considerable part in
the French Revolution, serving both in the Legislative Assembly and in the
Convention. In the latter he became identified with the Girondist party, and
shared their troubles. His best known work, the Esquisse des Progrès de
Page 506
l'Esprit Humain, was written while he was a fugitive and in concealment.
He was at last discovered and arrested, but the day after he was found dead
in his prison at Bourg la Reine, having apparently poisoned himself (March,
1794). Condorcet's works are voluminous, and partake strongly of the
philosophe character. He is not remarkable for originality of thought, and
may indeed be said to be for the most part a mere exponent of the current
ideas of the second stage of the philosophe movement. But his style has
great merits, being clear, forcible, and correct, suffering only from the
somewhat stereotyped forms, and from the absence of flexibility and colour
which distinguish the later eighteenth century in France.
One more remarkable name deserves to be mentioned in
this place as the last of the Philosophes proper, that is to Volney.
say, of those writers who carried out the general
principles of the Encyclopædist movement with less reference to specialist
departments of literature than to a certain general spirit and tendency. This
was Constantin François de Chassebœuf, Comte de Volney, by which latter
name he is generally known. Volney was born in 1757, at Caron, in Anjou,
and was educated at Angers, and afterwards at Paris. He studied both
medicine and law, but having a sufficient fortune, practised neither. In 1783
he set out on his travels and journeyed to the East, visiting Egypt and Syria;
an account of which journey he published four years later. When he
returned to France he was from the beginning a moderate partisan of the
Revolution, and, like most such persons, he was arrested during the Terror,
though he escaped with no worse fate than imprisonment. Immediately after
Thermidor, Volney published his most celebrated work, Les Ruines, a
treatise on the rise and fall of empires from a general and philosophical
point of view. Shortly after this he visited the United States, whence he
returned in 1798. He had known Napoleon in early days, and on the
establishment of the Consulate he was appointed a senator; nor was his
resignation accepted, though it was tendered when Bonaparte assumed the
crown. His countship was Napoleonic, but he was always an opponent of
the emperor's policy. Accordingly, after the Restoration, he was nominated
by Louis XVIII. as a member of the new House of Peers. He died in 1820.
Besides the books already noticed he published some studies in ancient
history and many miscellaneous works, including a project of a universal
language. Volney was, as has been said, the last of the philosophes,
He was at last discovered and arrested, but the day after he was found dead
in his prison at Bourg la Reine, having apparently poisoned himself (March,
1794). Condorcet's works are voluminous, and partake strongly of the
philosophe character. He is not remarkable for originality of thought, and
may indeed be said to be for the most part a mere exponent of the current
ideas of the second stage of the philosophe movement. But his style has
great merits, being clear, forcible, and correct, suffering only from the
somewhat stereotyped forms, and from the absence of flexibility and colour
which distinguish the later eighteenth century in France.
One more remarkable name deserves to be mentioned in
this place as the last of the Philosophes proper, that is to Volney.
say, of those writers who carried out the general
principles of the Encyclopædist movement with less reference to specialist
departments of literature than to a certain general spirit and tendency. This
was Constantin François de Chassebœuf, Comte de Volney, by which latter
name he is generally known. Volney was born in 1757, at Caron, in Anjou,
and was educated at Angers, and afterwards at Paris. He studied both
medicine and law, but having a sufficient fortune, practised neither. In 1783
he set out on his travels and journeyed to the East, visiting Egypt and Syria;
an account of which journey he published four years later. When he
returned to France he was from the beginning a moderate partisan of the
Revolution, and, like most such persons, he was arrested during the Terror,
though he escaped with no worse fate than imprisonment. Immediately after
Thermidor, Volney published his most celebrated work, Les Ruines, a
treatise on the rise and fall of empires from a general and philosophical
point of view. Shortly after this he visited the United States, whence he
returned in 1798. He had known Napoleon in early days, and on the
establishment of the Consulate he was appointed a senator; nor was his
resignation accepted, though it was tendered when Bonaparte assumed the
crown. His countship was Napoleonic, but he was always an opponent of
the emperor's policy. Accordingly, after the Restoration, he was nominated
by Louis XVIII. as a member of the new House of Peers. He died in 1820.
Besides the books already noticed he published some studies in ancient
history and many miscellaneous works, including a project of a universal
language. Volney was, as has been said, the last of the philosophes,
Page 507
exhibiting, long after a new order of thought had set in, their acute but
negative and one-sided criticism, their sterile contempt of Christianity and
religion generally, their somewhat theoretic acceptance of generalisations
on philosophy and history, and of large plans for dealing with politics and
ethics. As a traveller his observation is accurate and his expression vivid; as
a philosophical historian his acuteness is perhaps not sufficiently
accompanied by real breadth of view.
Between these philosophers, in the local and temporary
sense of the word, who dealt only with what would now La Mettrie
be called the sociological side of philosophy in its
bearings on politics, religion, ethics, and economics, and Helvétius
the strictly philosophical school of Condillac and his
followers, a small but very influential sect of materialists, who were yet not
purely philosophical materialists, has to be considered. Three members of
this school have importance in literature—La Mettrie, Helvétius, and
Holbach. La Mettrie was a native of Britanny: he entered the medical
service of the French army, acquired a speedy reputation for heterodoxy and
disorderly living, and fled for shelter to the general patron of heterodox
Frenchmen, Frederick of Prussia; at whose court he died, at a comparatively
early age, it is said in consequence of a practical joke. La Mettrie's chief
work is a paradoxical exercise in materialist physics called L'Homme-
Machine, in which he endeavours to prove the purely automatic working of
the human frame, and the absence of any mind in the spiritualist sense. This
he followed by a similar but less original work, called L'Homme-Plante,
and by some other minor publications. La Mettrie was a very unequal
thinker and writer, but he has, as Voltaire (who disliked him) expressed it,
traits de flamme both in thought and style. Claude Adrian Helvétius was of
Swiss descent, and of ample fortune. Born in 1715, he was appointed to the
high post of Farmer-General when he was little more than twenty-three; but
he did not hold this appointment very long, and became Chamberlain to the
Queen. He was very popular in society, and was of a benevolent and
philanthropic disposition, though he seems to have got into trouble at his
country seat of Voré by excessive game preserving. He married, in 1751,
the beautiful Mademoiselle de Ligneville, who was long afterwards one of
the chief centres of literary society in Paris. In 1758 his book De l'Esprit
appeared, and made a great sensation, being condemned as immoral, and
negative and one-sided criticism, their sterile contempt of Christianity and
religion generally, their somewhat theoretic acceptance of generalisations
on philosophy and history, and of large plans for dealing with politics and
ethics. As a traveller his observation is accurate and his expression vivid; as
a philosophical historian his acuteness is perhaps not sufficiently
accompanied by real breadth of view.
Between these philosophers, in the local and temporary
sense of the word, who dealt only with what would now La Mettrie
be called the sociological side of philosophy in its
bearings on politics, religion, ethics, and economics, and Helvétius
the strictly philosophical school of Condillac and his
followers, a small but very influential sect of materialists, who were yet not
purely philosophical materialists, has to be considered. Three members of
this school have importance in literature—La Mettrie, Helvétius, and
Holbach. La Mettrie was a native of Britanny: he entered the medical
service of the French army, acquired a speedy reputation for heterodoxy and
disorderly living, and fled for shelter to the general patron of heterodox
Frenchmen, Frederick of Prussia; at whose court he died, at a comparatively
early age, it is said in consequence of a practical joke. La Mettrie's chief
work is a paradoxical exercise in materialist physics called L'Homme-
Machine, in which he endeavours to prove the purely automatic working of
the human frame, and the absence of any mind in the spiritualist sense. This
he followed by a similar but less original work, called L'Homme-Plante,
and by some other minor publications. La Mettrie was a very unequal
thinker and writer, but he has, as Voltaire (who disliked him) expressed it,
traits de flamme both in thought and style. Claude Adrian Helvétius was of
Swiss descent, and of ample fortune. Born in 1715, he was appointed to the
high post of Farmer-General when he was little more than twenty-three; but
he did not hold this appointment very long, and became Chamberlain to the
Queen. He was very popular in society, and was of a benevolent and
philanthropic disposition, though he seems to have got into trouble at his
country seat of Voré by excessive game preserving. He married, in 1751,
the beautiful Mademoiselle de Ligneville, who was long afterwards one of
the chief centres of literary society in Paris. In 1758 his book De l'Esprit
appeared, and made a great sensation, being condemned as immoral, and
Page 508
burnt by the hangman. Helvétius subsequently travelled in England and
Germany, dying in 1771. A second treatise, De l'Homme, which appeared
posthumously, is much inferior to De l'Esprit in literary merit. It was even
more fiercely assailed than its predecessor, and Diderot himself, the leader
of the more active section of the philosophe party, wrote an elaborate
refutation of it, which, however, has only recently been published. The book
De l'Esprit is wanting in depth, and too anecdotic in style for a serious work
of philosophy, though this very characteristic makes it all the more amusing
reading. It endeavours to make out a theory of morals based on what is
called the selfish system; and it was the naked manner in which this selfish
system of ethics, and the materialist metaphysics which it implies, are
manifested in the book which gave occasion to its ill repute. As a mere
work of literature, however, it is well, and in parts even brilliantly written,
and amid much that is desultory, inconclusive, and even demonstrably
unsound, views of extreme shrewdness and originality on social abuses and
inconsistencies are to be found.
Germany, dying in 1771. A second treatise, De l'Homme, which appeared
posthumously, is much inferior to De l'Esprit in literary merit. It was even
more fiercely assailed than its predecessor, and Diderot himself, the leader
of the more active section of the philosophe party, wrote an elaborate
refutation of it, which, however, has only recently been published. The book
De l'Esprit is wanting in depth, and too anecdotic in style for a serious work
of philosophy, though this very characteristic makes it all the more amusing
reading. It endeavours to make out a theory of morals based on what is
called the selfish system; and it was the naked manner in which this selfish
system of ethics, and the materialist metaphysics which it implies, are
manifested in the book which gave occasion to its ill repute. As a mere
work of literature, however, it is well, and in parts even brilliantly written,
and amid much that is desultory, inconclusive, and even demonstrably
unsound, views of extreme shrewdness and originality on social abuses and
inconsistencies are to be found.
Page 509
None of the writers hitherto mentioned made open
profession of atheism, and it is doubtful whether even Système de la
Diderot deserves the appellation of a consistent atheist. Nature.
There was, however, a large anti-theistic school among the philosophes,
which increased in numbers and strength towards the outbreak of the
Revolution. The most striking work by far of this school (which included
Damilaville, Naigeon, and a few other names of no great distinction in
literature) was the Système de la Nature, which appeared in 1770. This
remarkable book, which even Voltaire and Frederick II. set themselves
seriously to refute, contains a complete materialist system in metaphysics
and theology. It represents the existence of God as a mere creation of the
superstition of men, unable to assign a cause for the evils under which they
suffer, and inventing a supernatural entity to satisfy themselves. The book
(to consider its literary style only) is extremely unequal, passages of
remarkable vigour alternating with long and dreary tracts of inconclusive
and monotonous declamation. It appeared under the name of a dead man,
Mirabaud, a person of some slight and chiefly official name in science and
letters. It is, however, believed, if not certainly known, to be the work of the
Baron d'Holbach (who unquestionably wrote various other books of a
similar tendency), with the assistance of divers of his friends, and especially
of Diderot. The Système is a very singular production, animated by a kind
of fanatical, and in parts almost poetical aspiration after the annihilation of
all supernatural belief, which is hardly to be found elsewhere except in
Lucretius. It had great influence, though that influence was one of repulsion
as well as of conversion, and it may be said to be, up to the present day, the
furthest step taken in the direction of philosophical as opposed to political
Nihilism. It should, however, be observed that in parts there is a strong
political tinge observable in it.
In all this century of so-called philosophy, France
possessed hardly more than one really eminent and Condillac.
considerable metaphysician. This was Étienne Bonnot
de Condillac, brother of the Abbé de Mably, who was born in 1715, and
died in 1780. Condillac himself was an abbé, and possessing a sufficient
benefice, he lived for the most part quietly upon it, and took no part in the
political, or even the literary life of the times. In 1746 he published his
Essai sur l'Origine des Connoissances Humaines; in 1749 his Traité des
profession of atheism, and it is doubtful whether even Système de la
Diderot deserves the appellation of a consistent atheist. Nature.
There was, however, a large anti-theistic school among the philosophes,
which increased in numbers and strength towards the outbreak of the
Revolution. The most striking work by far of this school (which included
Damilaville, Naigeon, and a few other names of no great distinction in
literature) was the Système de la Nature, which appeared in 1770. This
remarkable book, which even Voltaire and Frederick II. set themselves
seriously to refute, contains a complete materialist system in metaphysics
and theology. It represents the existence of God as a mere creation of the
superstition of men, unable to assign a cause for the evils under which they
suffer, and inventing a supernatural entity to satisfy themselves. The book
(to consider its literary style only) is extremely unequal, passages of
remarkable vigour alternating with long and dreary tracts of inconclusive
and monotonous declamation. It appeared under the name of a dead man,
Mirabaud, a person of some slight and chiefly official name in science and
letters. It is, however, believed, if not certainly known, to be the work of the
Baron d'Holbach (who unquestionably wrote various other books of a
similar tendency), with the assistance of divers of his friends, and especially
of Diderot. The Système is a very singular production, animated by a kind
of fanatical, and in parts almost poetical aspiration after the annihilation of
all supernatural belief, which is hardly to be found elsewhere except in
Lucretius. It had great influence, though that influence was one of repulsion
as well as of conversion, and it may be said to be, up to the present day, the
furthest step taken in the direction of philosophical as opposed to political
Nihilism. It should, however, be observed that in parts there is a strong
political tinge observable in it.
In all this century of so-called philosophy, France
possessed hardly more than one really eminent and Condillac.
considerable metaphysician. This was Étienne Bonnot
de Condillac, brother of the Abbé de Mably, who was born in 1715, and
died in 1780. Condillac himself was an abbé, and possessing a sufficient
benefice, he lived for the most part quietly upon it, and took no part in the
political, or even the literary life of the times. In 1746 he published his
Essai sur l'Origine des Connoissances Humaines; in 1749 his Traité des
Page 510
Systèmes, a work critical rather than constructive; and in 1754 the Traité des
Sensations, his principal work, which completes his theory. The influence
of Locke was the most powerful single influence in the philosophe
movement of France, and Condillac took up Locke's work at exactly the
point where his master had faltered. He set to work to show with great
plausibility that, according to Lockeian principles, the addition of ideas of
reflection to ideas of sensation is unsustainable, and that all ideas without
exception are merely transformed sensations. One of the illustrations which
he used to support his views, that of a statue supposed to be endowed with a
single sense, and successively developing first the others, and then the
powers usually classed as reflection, is famous in the history of philosophy.
It concerns us only as giving an instance of the method of Condillac, which
is remarkable for vividness and adaptation to the ordinary comprehension.
Unlike the style of Locke himself, Condillac's style is not in the least
slovenly, but polished and lucid, excellently suited to such a public as that
of the eighteenth century, which was at once intelligent enough to
understand, and educated enough to demand, finish of manner in discussing
abstract points.
After Condillac the history of philosophy in France during the rest of the
period is of no great interest to literature. He himself was continued and
represented chiefly by Destutt de Tracy. The reaction against the extreme
idealist and materialist constructions of Locke respectively, which had been
brought about in England by Reid and Stewart, acquired in the last years of
the eighteenth century, and the beginning of the nineteenth, a considerable
following in France. Its chiefs were Maine de Biran, Royer Collard (who
also obtained reputation as an orator and parliamentary politician), and
Jouffroy. They belong, however, rather to the history of philosophy than to
that of literature.
After this long list of writers who advocated, more or
less openly, revolution in matters political and religious, Joseph de Maistre.
but especially in the latter, two authors who with
Chateaubriand, but in a definitely philosophical manner, set the example of
reaction, and who to a great extent indicated the lines which it was to
follow, must be mentioned. These are Joseph de Maistre, and Louis de
Bonald. Joseph, Count de Maistre, was born at Chambéry, in 1753, of a
noble Savoyard family, which is said to have come originally from
Sensations, his principal work, which completes his theory. The influence
of Locke was the most powerful single influence in the philosophe
movement of France, and Condillac took up Locke's work at exactly the
point where his master had faltered. He set to work to show with great
plausibility that, according to Lockeian principles, the addition of ideas of
reflection to ideas of sensation is unsustainable, and that all ideas without
exception are merely transformed sensations. One of the illustrations which
he used to support his views, that of a statue supposed to be endowed with a
single sense, and successively developing first the others, and then the
powers usually classed as reflection, is famous in the history of philosophy.
It concerns us only as giving an instance of the method of Condillac, which
is remarkable for vividness and adaptation to the ordinary comprehension.
Unlike the style of Locke himself, Condillac's style is not in the least
slovenly, but polished and lucid, excellently suited to such a public as that
of the eighteenth century, which was at once intelligent enough to
understand, and educated enough to demand, finish of manner in discussing
abstract points.
After Condillac the history of philosophy in France during the rest of the
period is of no great interest to literature. He himself was continued and
represented chiefly by Destutt de Tracy. The reaction against the extreme
idealist and materialist constructions of Locke respectively, which had been
brought about in England by Reid and Stewart, acquired in the last years of
the eighteenth century, and the beginning of the nineteenth, a considerable
following in France. Its chiefs were Maine de Biran, Royer Collard (who
also obtained reputation as an orator and parliamentary politician), and
Jouffroy. They belong, however, rather to the history of philosophy than to
that of literature.
After this long list of writers who advocated, more or
less openly, revolution in matters political and religious, Joseph de Maistre.
but especially in the latter, two authors who with
Chateaubriand, but in a definitely philosophical manner, set the example of
reaction, and who to a great extent indicated the lines which it was to
follow, must be mentioned. These are Joseph de Maistre, and Louis de
Bonald. Joseph, Count de Maistre, was born at Chambéry, in 1753, of a
noble Savoyard family, which is said to have come originally from
Page 511
Languedoc. His father held important employments in the duchy, and
Joseph himself entered its civil service. When, after the French Revolution,
Savoy was invaded, and in a short time annexed, he returned to Lausanne,
and there wrote Considérations sur la France, his first work of importance.
For some years he was employed at Turin in the administration of such of
his continental dominions as were left to the King of Sardinia; and then,
after the practical annexation of Piedmont, he held a similar employ in the
island of Sardinia itself. At the beginning of the present century, he was sent
to St. Petersburg to plead the cause of his master. Here he remained till after
the overthrow of Napoleon, and wrote, though he did not publish, most of
his books. In 1816 he returned to Turin, and died a few years afterwards—
in 1821. The three chief works of Joseph de Maistre are Du Pape, 1817, De
l'Église Gallicane, and the unfinished Soirées de St. Pétersbourg. The two
first compose a complete treatise on the power and position of the pope in
relation both to the temporal and to the ecclesiastical form of national
government. The author is the most uncompromising of ultramontanes.
According to him the pope is the source of all authority on earth, and
temporal princes are little more than his delegates. Except in relation to
religious error, Joseph de Maistre is not hostile to a certain ordered measure
of liberty accorded by their rulers to peoples and individuals. But, strongly
impressed by the social and moral, as well as the political and religious
anarchy brought about first by the philosophe movement, and then by the
Revolution, he sees the only chance of rescue in the establishment of a
hierarchy of government culminating in that from which there is no appeal,
the single authority of the pope. He is thus a legitimist with a difference.
The Soirées de St. Pétersbourg, which are unfinished and not entirely
uniform in plan, deal nominally with the providential government of the
world, but diverge to a large number of subjects. It is in this book that the
author develops the kind of modified terrorism which is often, though not
altogether justly, considered to be his chief characteristic, eulogising the
executioner as the foundation of society.
Joseph de Maistre is unquestionably one of the greatest thinkers and writers
of the eighteenth century. Paradoxical and strained as his system frequently
appears, it is rigorously logical. An ordered theocracy seems to him the only
polity capable of giving peace and true prosperity to the world, and he
shapes all his theories so as to fit in with this central conception. On
Joseph himself entered its civil service. When, after the French Revolution,
Savoy was invaded, and in a short time annexed, he returned to Lausanne,
and there wrote Considérations sur la France, his first work of importance.
For some years he was employed at Turin in the administration of such of
his continental dominions as were left to the King of Sardinia; and then,
after the practical annexation of Piedmont, he held a similar employ in the
island of Sardinia itself. At the beginning of the present century, he was sent
to St. Petersburg to plead the cause of his master. Here he remained till after
the overthrow of Napoleon, and wrote, though he did not publish, most of
his books. In 1816 he returned to Turin, and died a few years afterwards—
in 1821. The three chief works of Joseph de Maistre are Du Pape, 1817, De
l'Église Gallicane, and the unfinished Soirées de St. Pétersbourg. The two
first compose a complete treatise on the power and position of the pope in
relation both to the temporal and to the ecclesiastical form of national
government. The author is the most uncompromising of ultramontanes.
According to him the pope is the source of all authority on earth, and
temporal princes are little more than his delegates. Except in relation to
religious error, Joseph de Maistre is not hostile to a certain ordered measure
of liberty accorded by their rulers to peoples and individuals. But, strongly
impressed by the social and moral, as well as the political and religious
anarchy brought about first by the philosophe movement, and then by the
Revolution, he sees the only chance of rescue in the establishment of a
hierarchy of government culminating in that from which there is no appeal,
the single authority of the pope. He is thus a legitimist with a difference.
The Soirées de St. Pétersbourg, which are unfinished and not entirely
uniform in plan, deal nominally with the providential government of the
world, but diverge to a large number of subjects. It is in this book that the
author develops the kind of modified terrorism which is often, though not
altogether justly, considered to be his chief characteristic, eulogising the
executioner as the foundation of society.
Joseph de Maistre is unquestionably one of the greatest thinkers and writers
of the eighteenth century. Paradoxical and strained as his system frequently
appears, it is rigorously logical. An ordered theocracy seems to him the only
polity capable of giving peace and true prosperity to the world, and he
shapes all his theories so as to fit in with this central conception. On
Page 512
detached subjects his thoughts are always vigorous, and often strikingly
original. His reading was great, and his skill in polemics of the very highest.
No one possesses in larger measure the art of hostile criticism without
descending to actual abuse. These merits of themselves imply purely
literary accomplishments, clearness, distinctness, forcible expression, in a
rare kind and degree. But Joseph de Maistre is more than this as a writer. He
possesses, though he only occasionally exercises it, a brilliant faculty of
rhetoric. His phrase is more than merely clear and forcible; it has a peculiar
incisiveness and sharpness of outline which impress it on the memory,
while, sparing as he is of ornament, his rare passages of description and
fancy have great merit. The surest testimony to his value is the fact that,
though both in his own day and since by far the larger number of writers
and thinkers have held views more or less opposed to his, no one whose
opinion is itself of the least importance has ever spoken of him without
respect and even admiration. Those who, like Lamartine, qualify their
admiration with a certain depreciation, show inability to recognise fully the
beauty of strength undisguised by conventional elegance and grace of form.
Louis Gabriel Ambroise, Vicomte de Bonald, who is
usually named with Joseph de Maistre as the leader of Bonald.
the Catholic-monarchist reaction, was a weaker thinker,
and a writer of less accomplishment, though in both respects he has perhaps
been somewhat unfairly criticised. Born at Milhaud, in the district of
Rouergue, in 1754, he discharged various civil and military employments in
his native province during his youth; was elected in 1790 member of the
Departmental Assembly, but emigrated next year; served in Condé's army,
and then established himself at Heidelberg. His first work was seized by the
Directory, but he returned to France soon afterwards, and was not molested.
He published a good deal during the first years of the century, and, like
many other royalists, received overtures from Napoleon through Fontanes.
These he did not exactly reject, but he availed himself of them very
sparingly. The Restoration, on the contrary, aroused him to vigour. It was
owing to him chiefly that the law of divorce was altered. He entered the
Academy, and in 1823 was made a peer; an honour which he resigned at the
revolution of July. He died in 1840.
Bonald's principal work is his Législation Primitive. He also wrote a book
on divorce, and a considerable number of miscellaneous political and
original. His reading was great, and his skill in polemics of the very highest.
No one possesses in larger measure the art of hostile criticism without
descending to actual abuse. These merits of themselves imply purely
literary accomplishments, clearness, distinctness, forcible expression, in a
rare kind and degree. But Joseph de Maistre is more than this as a writer. He
possesses, though he only occasionally exercises it, a brilliant faculty of
rhetoric. His phrase is more than merely clear and forcible; it has a peculiar
incisiveness and sharpness of outline which impress it on the memory,
while, sparing as he is of ornament, his rare passages of description and
fancy have great merit. The surest testimony to his value is the fact that,
though both in his own day and since by far the larger number of writers
and thinkers have held views more or less opposed to his, no one whose
opinion is itself of the least importance has ever spoken of him without
respect and even admiration. Those who, like Lamartine, qualify their
admiration with a certain depreciation, show inability to recognise fully the
beauty of strength undisguised by conventional elegance and grace of form.
Louis Gabriel Ambroise, Vicomte de Bonald, who is
usually named with Joseph de Maistre as the leader of Bonald.
the Catholic-monarchist reaction, was a weaker thinker,
and a writer of less accomplishment, though in both respects he has perhaps
been somewhat unfairly criticised. Born at Milhaud, in the district of
Rouergue, in 1754, he discharged various civil and military employments in
his native province during his youth; was elected in 1790 member of the
Departmental Assembly, but emigrated next year; served in Condé's army,
and then established himself at Heidelberg. His first work was seized by the
Directory, but he returned to France soon afterwards, and was not molested.
He published a good deal during the first years of the century, and, like
many other royalists, received overtures from Napoleon through Fontanes.
These he did not exactly reject, but he availed himself of them very
sparingly. The Restoration, on the contrary, aroused him to vigour. It was
owing to him chiefly that the law of divorce was altered. He entered the
Academy, and in 1823 was made a peer; an honour which he resigned at the
revolution of July. He died in 1840.
Bonald's principal work is his Législation Primitive. He also wrote a book
on divorce, and a considerable number of miscellaneous political and
Page 513
metaphysical works. His chief subjects of discussion were, first, the theory
of the revelation of language; and secondly, the theory of causality: in
respect of both of which he combated the materialist school of the
eighteenth century. In politics Bonald was a thoroughgoing legitimist and
monarchist of the patriarchal school. Although an orthodox and devout
Catholic, he does not lay the stress on the temporal power of the pope that
the author of Du Pape does. With him the king is the immediate instrument
of God in governing. He has been accused of reducing things too much to
formulas, and of repeating his formulas too often. But this itself was in
great part the effect of reaction against the vague declamation of the
philosophes.
of the revelation of language; and secondly, the theory of causality: in
respect of both of which he combated the materialist school of the
eighteenth century. In politics Bonald was a thoroughgoing legitimist and
monarchist of the patriarchal school. Although an orthodox and devout
Catholic, he does not lay the stress on the temporal power of the pope that
the author of Du Pape does. With him the king is the immediate instrument
of God in governing. He has been accused of reducing things too much to
formulas, and of repeating his formulas too often. But this itself was in
great part the effect of reaction against the vague declamation of the
philosophes.
Page 514
CHAPTER VII.
SCIENTIFIC WRITERS.
As the sciences divide and subdivide themselves more and more, the works
which treat of them become less and less the subject of strictly literary
history. Besides this truth, it is necessary to remember the fact that a large
number of treatises, scientific in subject, were in the eighteenth century
professedly popularised and addressed to unprofessional audiences.
Fontenelle, D'Alembert, and many other authors already mentioned, were
savants, but their manner of handling their subjects was far from being
strictly or wholly scientific. Yet there remain a certain number of writers,
who, their reputation being derived wholly or mainly from their treatment
of subjects of science and erudition, are better dealt with separately.
The head and chief of these is beyond all question
Buffon. George Louis Leclerc, who was made Count de Buffon.
Buffon by Louis XV., was born at Montbard in
Burgundy, on Sept. 7, 1707; his father was a man of wealth and of position
in the noblesse de robe. Buffon was destined for the law, but early showed
an inclination towards science. He became acquainted with a young English
nobleman, Lord Kingston, who with his tutor was taking the then usual
grand tour, and was permitted by his father to accompany him through
France and Italy, and to visit England. On the English language he spent
considerable pains, translating Newton, Hales, and Tull the agriculturist.
When he returned to France he devoted himself to scientific experiments,
and in 1739 he was appointed intendant or director of the Jardin du Roi,
which practically gave him command of the national collections in zoology,
botany, and mineralogy. He was thus enabled to observe and experiment to
his heart's content, and to collect a sufficient number of facts for his vast
Natural History. Buffon, however, was only half a man of science. He was
at least as anxious to write pompous descriptions and to indulge in showy
hypotheses, as to confine himself to plain scientific enquiry. He accordingly
left the main part of the hack-work of his Histoire Naturelle (a vast work
extending to thirty-six volumes) to assistants, of whom the chief was
SCIENTIFIC WRITERS.
As the sciences divide and subdivide themselves more and more, the works
which treat of them become less and less the subject of strictly literary
history. Besides this truth, it is necessary to remember the fact that a large
number of treatises, scientific in subject, were in the eighteenth century
professedly popularised and addressed to unprofessional audiences.
Fontenelle, D'Alembert, and many other authors already mentioned, were
savants, but their manner of handling their subjects was far from being
strictly or wholly scientific. Yet there remain a certain number of writers,
who, their reputation being derived wholly or mainly from their treatment
of subjects of science and erudition, are better dealt with separately.
The head and chief of these is beyond all question
Buffon. George Louis Leclerc, who was made Count de Buffon.
Buffon by Louis XV., was born at Montbard in
Burgundy, on Sept. 7, 1707; his father was a man of wealth and of position
in the noblesse de robe. Buffon was destined for the law, but early showed
an inclination towards science. He became acquainted with a young English
nobleman, Lord Kingston, who with his tutor was taking the then usual
grand tour, and was permitted by his father to accompany him through
France and Italy, and to visit England. On the English language he spent
considerable pains, translating Newton, Hales, and Tull the agriculturist.
When he returned to France he devoted himself to scientific experiments,
and in 1739 he was appointed intendant or director of the Jardin du Roi,
which practically gave him command of the national collections in zoology,
botany, and mineralogy. He was thus enabled to observe and experiment to
his heart's content, and to collect a sufficient number of facts for his vast
Natural History. Buffon, however, was only half a man of science. He was
at least as anxious to write pompous descriptions and to indulge in showy
hypotheses, as to confine himself to plain scientific enquiry. He accordingly
left the main part of the hack-work of his Histoire Naturelle (a vast work
extending to thirty-six volumes) to assistants, of whom the chief was
Page 515
Daubenton, himself contributing only the most striking and rhetorical
passages. The book was very remarkable for its time, as the first attempt
since Pliny at a collection of physical facts at once exhaustive, and in a
manner systematised, and though there was much alloy mixed with its
metal, it was of real value. Buffon's life was long, and he outlived all the
other chiefs of the philosophe party (to which in an outside sort of fashion
he belonged), dying at Paris in the year 1788. It is perhaps easier to
condemn Buffon's extremely rhetorical style than to do justice to it. To a
modern reader it too frequently seems to verge on the ridiculous, and to do
more than verge on the trivial. It is necessary, however, to take the point of
view of the time. Buffon found natural science in a position far below that
assigned to literary erudition and to the arts in general estimation. He also
found it customary that these arts and letters should be treated in pompous
éloges. His real interest in science led him to think that the shortest way to
raise it was to treat it in the same manner, and there is little doubt that his
method was effectual in its degree. It is perhaps curious that he, the author
of the phrase 'Le style c'est l'homme,' should have so completely
exemplified it. Many authors of elaborate prose have been perfectly simple
and unpretentious in private life. Buffon was as pompous and inflated as his
style. Anecdotes respecting him are numerous; but perhaps the most
instructive is that which tells how, having heard some one speak of the style
of Montesquieu, he asked, 'Si M. de Montesquieu avait un style?' It is
needless to say that from any just standpoint, even of purely literary
criticism, the hollow pomp of the Histoire Naturelle sinks into
insignificance beside the nervous and solid yet graceful vigour of the Esprit
des Lois.
No single scientific writer equals the fame of Buffon,
but there are not a few who deserve to be mentioned Lesser Scientific
Writers.
after him. Pierre Louis Moreau de Maupertuis, a Breton
by birth, who was a considerable mathematician and a physicist of more
eccentricity than merit, owes most of his literary celebrity to the patronage
of Frederick the Second, and the pitiless raillery of Voltaire, who quarrelled
with him on his visit to Berlin, where Maupertuis was president of the
Academy. Maupertuis' chief scientific performance was his mission to
Lapland to determine the measurement of a degree of longitude in 1736. Of
this mission he published an account. At the same time a similar mission
passages. The book was very remarkable for its time, as the first attempt
since Pliny at a collection of physical facts at once exhaustive, and in a
manner systematised, and though there was much alloy mixed with its
metal, it was of real value. Buffon's life was long, and he outlived all the
other chiefs of the philosophe party (to which in an outside sort of fashion
he belonged), dying at Paris in the year 1788. It is perhaps easier to
condemn Buffon's extremely rhetorical style than to do justice to it. To a
modern reader it too frequently seems to verge on the ridiculous, and to do
more than verge on the trivial. It is necessary, however, to take the point of
view of the time. Buffon found natural science in a position far below that
assigned to literary erudition and to the arts in general estimation. He also
found it customary that these arts and letters should be treated in pompous
éloges. His real interest in science led him to think that the shortest way to
raise it was to treat it in the same manner, and there is little doubt that his
method was effectual in its degree. It is perhaps curious that he, the author
of the phrase 'Le style c'est l'homme,' should have so completely
exemplified it. Many authors of elaborate prose have been perfectly simple
and unpretentious in private life. Buffon was as pompous and inflated as his
style. Anecdotes respecting him are numerous; but perhaps the most
instructive is that which tells how, having heard some one speak of the style
of Montesquieu, he asked, 'Si M. de Montesquieu avait un style?' It is
needless to say that from any just standpoint, even of purely literary
criticism, the hollow pomp of the Histoire Naturelle sinks into
insignificance beside the nervous and solid yet graceful vigour of the Esprit
des Lois.
No single scientific writer equals the fame of Buffon,
but there are not a few who deserve to be mentioned Lesser Scientific
Writers.
after him. Pierre Louis Moreau de Maupertuis, a Breton
by birth, who was a considerable mathematician and a physicist of more
eccentricity than merit, owes most of his literary celebrity to the patronage
of Frederick the Second, and the pitiless raillery of Voltaire, who quarrelled
with him on his visit to Berlin, where Maupertuis was president of the
Academy. Maupertuis' chief scientific performance was his mission to
Lapland to determine the measurement of a degree of longitude in 1736. Of
this mission he published an account. At the same time a similar mission
Page 516
was sent to South America under La Condamine, who underwent
considerable hardship, and, like Maupertuis, published his adventures when
he came back. Mathematics were indeed the favourite study of the time.
Clairaut, De Moivre, Euler, Laplace, all wrote in French, or belonged to
French-speaking and French-descended races; while Voltaire's own
contributions to the reception of Newton's principles in France were not
small, and his beloved Madame du Châtelet was an expert mathematician.
Voltaire also devoted much attention to chemistry, which was the special
subject of such of the Baron d'Holbach's labours as were not devoted to the
overthrow of Christianity. It was not, however, till the eve of the Revolution
that the most important discoveries in this science were made by Lavoisier
and others. The Empire was a much more favourable time for science than
for literature. Bonaparte was fond of the society of men of science, and
pleased by their usual indifference to politics. Monge, Berthollet,
Champollion, were among his favourites. Geoffroy St. Hilaire and Cuvier
were, however, the chief men of science of this period, and Cuvier at least
had no mean command of a literary style sufficient for his purposes. His
chief work of a literary-scientific character was his discourse Sur les
Révolutions de la Surface du Globe. Earlier than this the physician Cabanis,
in his Rapports de Physique et de Morale, composed a semi-materialist
work of great excellence according to eighteenth-century standards. Bichat's
La Vie et la Mort, the work of an anatomist of the greatest talent, who died
young, also belongs to literature.
Some contributions to letters were also made by the
voyages of discovery which formed part of the general Voyages and
Travels.
scientific curiosity of the time. The chief of them is that
of Bougainville, 1771, which, giving the first clear notion to Frenchmen of
the South Sea Islands, had a remarkably stimulating effect on the
imaginations of the philosophe party.
In works of pure erudition more directly connected with
literature, the age was less fruitful than its immediate Linguistic and
Literary Study.
predecessor. The laborious studies of the Benedictines,
however, continued. One work of theirs, important to our subject, was
projected and in part carried out under the superintendence chiefly of Dom
Rivet. This was the Histoire Littéraire de la France—a mighty work,
which, after long interruption by the Revolution and other causes, was taken
considerable hardship, and, like Maupertuis, published his adventures when
he came back. Mathematics were indeed the favourite study of the time.
Clairaut, De Moivre, Euler, Laplace, all wrote in French, or belonged to
French-speaking and French-descended races; while Voltaire's own
contributions to the reception of Newton's principles in France were not
small, and his beloved Madame du Châtelet was an expert mathematician.
Voltaire also devoted much attention to chemistry, which was the special
subject of such of the Baron d'Holbach's labours as were not devoted to the
overthrow of Christianity. It was not, however, till the eve of the Revolution
that the most important discoveries in this science were made by Lavoisier
and others. The Empire was a much more favourable time for science than
for literature. Bonaparte was fond of the society of men of science, and
pleased by their usual indifference to politics. Monge, Berthollet,
Champollion, were among his favourites. Geoffroy St. Hilaire and Cuvier
were, however, the chief men of science of this period, and Cuvier at least
had no mean command of a literary style sufficient for his purposes. His
chief work of a literary-scientific character was his discourse Sur les
Révolutions de la Surface du Globe. Earlier than this the physician Cabanis,
in his Rapports de Physique et de Morale, composed a semi-materialist
work of great excellence according to eighteenth-century standards. Bichat's
La Vie et la Mort, the work of an anatomist of the greatest talent, who died
young, also belongs to literature.
Some contributions to letters were also made by the
voyages of discovery which formed part of the general Voyages and
Travels.
scientific curiosity of the time. The chief of them is that
of Bougainville, 1771, which, giving the first clear notion to Frenchmen of
the South Sea Islands, had a remarkably stimulating effect on the
imaginations of the philosophe party.
In works of pure erudition more directly connected with
literature, the age was less fruitful than its immediate Linguistic and
Literary Study.
predecessor. The laborious studies of the Benedictines,
however, continued. One work of theirs, important to our subject, was
projected and in part carried out under the superintendence chiefly of Dom
Rivet. This was the Histoire Littéraire de la France—a mighty work,
which, after long interruption by the Revolution and other causes, was taken
Page 517
up again, and has proceeded steadily for many years, though it has not yet
reached the close of the middle ages. This work was part, and a very
important part, of a revival of the study of old French literature. The plan of
the Benedictines led them at first into the literature of mediaeval Latin. But
the works of the Trouvères, of their successors in the fourteenth and
fifteenth centuries, and of the authors of the French Renaissance, also
received attention, scattered at first and desultory, but gradually co-
ordinating and regulating itself. La Monnoye, Lenglet-Dufresnoy, the
President Bouhier, and many others, collected, and in some cases edited, the
work of earlier times. The Marquis de Paulmy began a vast Bibliothèque
des Romans, for which the Comte de Tressan undertook the modernising
and reproducing of all the stories of chivalry. Tressan, it is true, had
recourse only to late and adulterated versions, but his work was still
calculated to spread some knowledge of what the middle ages had actually
done in matter of literature. La Curne de Sainte Palaye devoted himself
eagerly to the study of the language, manners, and customs of chivalry.
Barbazan collected the specially French product of the Fabliau, and, with
his successor Méon (who also edited the Roman du Renart), provided a
great corpus of lighter mediaeval literature for the student to exercise
himself upon. By degrees this revived literature forced itself upon the
public eye, and before the Republic had given place to the Empire, it
received some attention at the hands of official teachers of literature who
had hitherto scorned it. M. J. Chénier, Daunou, and others, undertook the
subject, and made it in a manner popular; while towards the extreme end of
the present period Raynouard and Fauriel added the subject of Provençal
literature to that of the literature of Northern France, and helped to
propagate the study abroad as well as at home.
In the older fields the renown of France for purely classical scholarship
diminished somewhat as compared with the days of Huet, Ménage, Dacier,
and the Delphin classics. The principal work of erudition was either
directed towards the so-called philosophy in its wide sense of enquiry and
speculation into politics and manners, or else to mathematics and physics.
The Benedictines confined themselves for the most part to Christian
antiquity. Yet there were names of weight in this department, such as the
President Hénault, a writer something after the fashion of Fontenelle, but on
classical subjects; and the President de Brosses, also an archæologist of
reached the close of the middle ages. This work was part, and a very
important part, of a revival of the study of old French literature. The plan of
the Benedictines led them at first into the literature of mediaeval Latin. But
the works of the Trouvères, of their successors in the fourteenth and
fifteenth centuries, and of the authors of the French Renaissance, also
received attention, scattered at first and desultory, but gradually co-
ordinating and regulating itself. La Monnoye, Lenglet-Dufresnoy, the
President Bouhier, and many others, collected, and in some cases edited, the
work of earlier times. The Marquis de Paulmy began a vast Bibliothèque
des Romans, for which the Comte de Tressan undertook the modernising
and reproducing of all the stories of chivalry. Tressan, it is true, had
recourse only to late and adulterated versions, but his work was still
calculated to spread some knowledge of what the middle ages had actually
done in matter of literature. La Curne de Sainte Palaye devoted himself
eagerly to the study of the language, manners, and customs of chivalry.
Barbazan collected the specially French product of the Fabliau, and, with
his successor Méon (who also edited the Roman du Renart), provided a
great corpus of lighter mediaeval literature for the student to exercise
himself upon. By degrees this revived literature forced itself upon the
public eye, and before the Republic had given place to the Empire, it
received some attention at the hands of official teachers of literature who
had hitherto scorned it. M. J. Chénier, Daunou, and others, undertook the
subject, and made it in a manner popular; while towards the extreme end of
the present period Raynouard and Fauriel added the subject of Provençal
literature to that of the literature of Northern France, and helped to
propagate the study abroad as well as at home.
In the older fields the renown of France for purely classical scholarship
diminished somewhat as compared with the days of Huet, Ménage, Dacier,
and the Delphin classics. The principal work of erudition was either
directed towards the so-called philosophy in its wide sense of enquiry and
speculation into politics and manners, or else to mathematics and physics.
The Benedictines confined themselves for the most part to Christian
antiquity. Yet there were names of weight in this department, such as the
President Hénault, a writer something after the fashion of Fontenelle, but on
classical subjects; and the President de Brosses, also an archæologist of
Page 518
merit, but chiefly noteworthy as having been among the founders of the
science which busies itself with the manners and customs of primitive and
prehistoric man[291].
FOOTNOTES:
[291] I owe to M. Scherer the indication of a misprint of 'des Brosses' for 'de' in
former editions. M. Scherer says that I 'have never heard' of the President's
pleasant Lettres sur l'Italie, because I do not mention them. He also says that
what I do say of De Brosses is 'également surprenante pour ce qu'elle avance et
par ce qu'elle omet.' I am, therefore, justified in supposing that M. Scherer 'has
never heard' of the Lettres sur Herculanum, the Navigations aux Terres
Australes, or the Culte des Dieux Fétiches.
science which busies itself with the manners and customs of primitive and
prehistoric man[291].
FOOTNOTES:
[291] I owe to M. Scherer the indication of a misprint of 'des Brosses' for 'de' in
former editions. M. Scherer says that I 'have never heard' of the President's
pleasant Lettres sur l'Italie, because I do not mention them. He also says that
what I do say of De Brosses is 'également surprenante pour ce qu'elle avance et
par ce qu'elle omet.' I am, therefore, justified in supposing that M. Scherer 'has
never heard' of the Lettres sur Herculanum, the Navigations aux Terres
Australes, or the Culte des Dieux Fétiches.
Page 519
INTERCHAPTER IV.
SUMMARY OF EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY LITERATURE.
The eighteenth century was pre-eminently the century of academic
literature in France: far more so than the seventeenth, which had seen the
foundation of the Académie Française. The word 'academy' in this sense
was an invention of the Italian humanists, prompted by their Platonic, or
perhaps by their Ciceronian, studies. Academies, or coteries of men of
letters who united love of society with the cultivation of literature, became
common in Italy during the sixteenth century, and from Italy were
translated to France. The famous society, which now shares with the
original school of Plato the honour of being designated in European
language as 'The Academy' without distinguishing epithet, was originally
nothing but one of these coteries or clubs, which met at the house of the
judicious and amiable, but not particularly learned, Conrart. Conrart's
influence with Richelieu, the desire of the latter to secure a favourable
tribunal of critics for his own literary attempts, or (to be generous) his
foresight and his appreciation of the genius of the French language,
determined the Cardinal to establish this society. It was modestly endowed,
and was charged with the duty of composing an authoritative Dictionary of
the French literary language; a task the slow performance of which has been
a stock subject of ridicule for two centuries and a half. The Academy,
though it suffered some vicissitudes in the Revolutionary and Napoleonic
period, has survived all changes, and is virtually one of the most ancient
existing institutions of France. But, though it from the beginning enjoyed
royal and ministerial favour, it was long before it collected a really
representative body of members, and it was subjected at first to a good deal
of raillery. One of Saint Evremond's early works was a Comédie des
Académistes; while one of the most polished and severe of his later prose
critical studies is a 'Dissertation on the word "Vaste,"' in which the tendency
of the Academy to trifling discussions (the curse of all literary societies),
the literary indolence of its members, and the pedagogic limitations of its
critical standards, are bitterly, though most politely, ridiculed. It did itself
SUMMARY OF EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY LITERATURE.
The eighteenth century was pre-eminently the century of academic
literature in France: far more so than the seventeenth, which had seen the
foundation of the Académie Française. The word 'academy' in this sense
was an invention of the Italian humanists, prompted by their Platonic, or
perhaps by their Ciceronian, studies. Academies, or coteries of men of
letters who united love of society with the cultivation of literature, became
common in Italy during the sixteenth century, and from Italy were
translated to France. The famous society, which now shares with the
original school of Plato the honour of being designated in European
language as 'The Academy' without distinguishing epithet, was originally
nothing but one of these coteries or clubs, which met at the house of the
judicious and amiable, but not particularly learned, Conrart. Conrart's
influence with Richelieu, the desire of the latter to secure a favourable
tribunal of critics for his own literary attempts, or (to be generous) his
foresight and his appreciation of the genius of the French language,
determined the Cardinal to establish this society. It was modestly endowed,
and was charged with the duty of composing an authoritative Dictionary of
the French literary language; a task the slow performance of which has been
a stock subject of ridicule for two centuries and a half. The Academy,
though it suffered some vicissitudes in the Revolutionary and Napoleonic
period, has survived all changes, and is virtually one of the most ancient
existing institutions of France. But, though it from the beginning enjoyed
royal and ministerial favour, it was long before it collected a really
representative body of members, and it was subjected at first to a good deal
of raillery. One of Saint Evremond's early works was a Comédie des
Académistes; while one of the most polished and severe of his later prose
critical studies is a 'Dissertation on the word "Vaste,"' in which the tendency
of the Academy to trifling discussions (the curse of all literary societies),
the literary indolence of its members, and the pedagogic limitations of its
critical standards, are bitterly, though most politely, ridiculed. It did itself
Page 520
little good by lending its name to be the cover for Richelieu's jealousy of
the Cid, though there is more justice in its examen of that famous play than
is sometimes supposed. But the institution was thoroughly germane to the
nature, tastes, and literary needs of the French people, and it prospered.
Conrart was a tower of strength to it; and in the next generation the
methodical and administrative talents of Perrault were of great service,
while it so obviously helped the design of Louis XIV. to play the Augustus,
that a tradition of royal patronage, which was not afterwards broken, was
established. The greatest blots on the Academy were the almost unavoidable
servility which rewarded this patronage, and the private rivalries and
cliques which have occasionally kept some of the greatest names of French
literature out of its lists. Molière and Diderot are the most shining examples
among these, but many others keep them company. Nevertheless, by the
end of the seventeenth century at least, it became the recognised aim of
every Frenchman of letters to belong to the 'forty geese that guard the
Capitol' of French literature, as Diderot, not quite a disinterested witness,
called them. Throughout the eighteenth century their power was supreme.
Competition for the various academic prizes was, in the infancy of
periodicals, the easiest and the commonest method by which a struggling
man of letters could make himself known; and literary heresy of any kind
was an almost certain cause of exclusion from the body when once the
dictatorship of Fontenelle (a benevolent autocrat who, being something of a
heretic himself, tolerated freethinking in others) had ceased. Moreover,
except in rare cases, chiefly limited to persons of rank who were elected for
reasons quite other than literary, it was not usual for an author to gain
admission to the Academy until he was well stricken in years, and until, as a
natural consequence, his tastes were for the most part formed, and he was
impatient of innovation.
At first the influence of the Academy was beyond question salutary in the
main, if not wholly. Balzac, whose importance in the history of prose style
has been pointed out, was one of its earliest members. It was under its wing
that Vaugelas undertook the much-needed enquiry into French grammar and
its principles as applied to literature. The majority of the early members
were connected with the refining and reforming coteries of the Rambouillet
and other salons. It was somewhat slow in electing Boileau, though it is to
be feared that this arose from no higher motive than the fact that he had
the Cid, though there is more justice in its examen of that famous play than
is sometimes supposed. But the institution was thoroughly germane to the
nature, tastes, and literary needs of the French people, and it prospered.
Conrart was a tower of strength to it; and in the next generation the
methodical and administrative talents of Perrault were of great service,
while it so obviously helped the design of Louis XIV. to play the Augustus,
that a tradition of royal patronage, which was not afterwards broken, was
established. The greatest blots on the Academy were the almost unavoidable
servility which rewarded this patronage, and the private rivalries and
cliques which have occasionally kept some of the greatest names of French
literature out of its lists. Molière and Diderot are the most shining examples
among these, but many others keep them company. Nevertheless, by the
end of the seventeenth century at least, it became the recognised aim of
every Frenchman of letters to belong to the 'forty geese that guard the
Capitol' of French literature, as Diderot, not quite a disinterested witness,
called them. Throughout the eighteenth century their power was supreme.
Competition for the various academic prizes was, in the infancy of
periodicals, the easiest and the commonest method by which a struggling
man of letters could make himself known; and literary heresy of any kind
was an almost certain cause of exclusion from the body when once the
dictatorship of Fontenelle (a benevolent autocrat who, being something of a
heretic himself, tolerated freethinking in others) had ceased. Moreover,
except in rare cases, chiefly limited to persons of rank who were elected for
reasons quite other than literary, it was not usual for an author to gain
admission to the Academy until he was well stricken in years, and until, as a
natural consequence, his tastes were for the most part formed, and he was
impatient of innovation.
At first the influence of the Academy was beyond question salutary in the
main, if not wholly. Balzac, whose importance in the history of prose style
has been pointed out, was one of its earliest members. It was under its wing
that Vaugelas undertook the much-needed enquiry into French grammar and
its principles as applied to literature. The majority of the early members
were connected with the refining and reforming coteries of the Rambouillet
and other salons. It was somewhat slow in electing Boileau, though it is to
be feared that this arose from no higher motive than the fact that he had
Page 521
satirised most of its members. But Boileau was the natural guiding spirit of
an Academy, and it fell more and more under his influence—not so much
his personal influence as that of his principles and critical estimates. In
short, during the seventeenth century it played the very useful part of model
and measure in the midst of a time when the chief danger was the neglect of
measures and of models, and it played it very fairly. But by the time that the
eighteenth century began, it was by no means of a restraining and guiding
influence that France had most need. The exuberance of creative genius
between 1630 and 1690 had supplied literature with actual models far more
valuable than any scheme of cut-and-dried rules, and it was in need rather
of a stimulant to spur it on to further development. Instead of serving as
this, the Academy served (owing, it must be confessed, in great part to the
literary conservatism of Voltaire and the philosophes generally) as a check
and drag upon the spontaneous instincts all through the century, and in all
the departments of Belles Lettres. It contributed more than anything else to
the mischievous crystallisation of literary ideas, which during this time
offers so strange a contrast to the singular state of solution in which were all
ideas relating to religion, politics, and morals. The consequence of the
propounding of a set of consecrated models, of the constant competition in
imitation of those models, and of the reward of diligent and successful
imitation by admission into the body, which in its turn nursed and guided a
new generation of imitators, was the reduction of large and important
departments of literature to a condition of cut-and-driedness which has no
parallel in history. The drama in particular, which was artificial and limited
at its best, was reduced to something like the state of a game in which every
possible move or stroke is known and registered, and in which the sole
novelty consists in contriving some permutation of these moves or strokes
which shall be, if possible, not absolutely identical with any former
combination. So in a lesser degree, it was in poetry, in history, in prose
tales, in verse tales. If a man had a loose imagination, he tried to imitate La
Fontaine as well as he could in manner, and outbid him in matter; if he
thought himself an epigrammatist, he copied J. B. Rousseau; if he was
disposed to edification, the same poet supplied him with models; if the gods
had made him descriptive, he executed variations in the style of Delille, or
Saint Lambert, who had themselves copied others; if he wrote in any other
style, he had an eye to the work of Voltaire. Neologism in vocabulary was
carefully eschewed, and a natural consequence of this was the resort (in the
an Academy, and it fell more and more under his influence—not so much
his personal influence as that of his principles and critical estimates. In
short, during the seventeenth century it played the very useful part of model
and measure in the midst of a time when the chief danger was the neglect of
measures and of models, and it played it very fairly. But by the time that the
eighteenth century began, it was by no means of a restraining and guiding
influence that France had most need. The exuberance of creative genius
between 1630 and 1690 had supplied literature with actual models far more
valuable than any scheme of cut-and-dried rules, and it was in need rather
of a stimulant to spur it on to further development. Instead of serving as
this, the Academy served (owing, it must be confessed, in great part to the
literary conservatism of Voltaire and the philosophes generally) as a check
and drag upon the spontaneous instincts all through the century, and in all
the departments of Belles Lettres. It contributed more than anything else to
the mischievous crystallisation of literary ideas, which during this time
offers so strange a contrast to the singular state of solution in which were all
ideas relating to religion, politics, and morals. The consequence of the
propounding of a set of consecrated models, of the constant competition in
imitation of those models, and of the reward of diligent and successful
imitation by admission into the body, which in its turn nursed and guided a
new generation of imitators, was the reduction of large and important
departments of literature to a condition of cut-and-driedness which has no
parallel in history. The drama in particular, which was artificial and limited
at its best, was reduced to something like the state of a game in which every
possible move or stroke is known and registered, and in which the sole
novelty consists in contriving some permutation of these moves or strokes
which shall be, if possible, not absolutely identical with any former
combination. So in a lesser degree, it was in poetry, in history, in prose
tales, in verse tales. If a man had a loose imagination, he tried to imitate La
Fontaine as well as he could in manner, and outbid him in matter; if he
thought himself an epigrammatist, he copied J. B. Rousseau; if he was
disposed to edification, the same poet supplied him with models; if the gods
had made him descriptive, he executed variations in the style of Delille, or
Saint Lambert, who had themselves copied others; if he wrote in any other
style, he had an eye to the work of Voltaire. Neologism in vocabulary was
carefully eschewed, and a natural consequence of this was the resort (in the
Page 522
struggle not to repeat merely) to elaborate and ingenious periphrases, such
as those which have been quoted in the chapter on eighteenth-century
poetry. In short, literature had got into a sort of treadmill in which all the
effort expended was expended merely in the repeated production of certain
prescribed motions.
It was partly a natural result of this, and partly an effect of other and
accidental causes, that the actual composition of the Academy was in the
first quarter of the nineteenth century by no means such as to inspire much
respect. But it was all the less likely to initiate or to head any movement of
reform. The consequence was, that when the reform came, it came from the
outside, not from the inside, that it was violently opposed, and that, though
it prevailed, and its leaders themselves quickly forced their way into the
sacred precincts, it was as victorious rebels, not as welcomed allies. The
further consequence of this, and of the changes of which account will be
given briefly in the following book, was the alteration to a great extent of
the status of the Academy. It still (though with the old reproach of
illustrious outsiders) includes most of the leading men of letters of France,
and its membership is still, theoretically, the greatest honour that a French
man of letters can receive. But its position is far more ornamental than it
was. It hardly pretends to be in any sense legislative: it is an honorary
assembly, not a working parliament. The chief circumstance that keeps it
before the public is the curious and time-honoured custom which ordains
that the academician appointed to receive each new member shall, in the
most polished and amiable manner, give the most ironical description he
can of the novice's achievements and claims to recognition.
The exact change in literature which has partly caused, and has partly
coincided with this change in the relation of the Academy to letters, will
shortly be displayed, though in somewhat less detail than those changes
which are at a sufficient distance to be estimated by the aid of what has
been well called 'the firm perspective of the past.' For cut-and-dried rules of
criticism, carefully selected and limited models, narrow range of subject,
scanty vocabulary and its corollary periphrasis, stock metaphor and
ornament, stiff or fluidly insignificant metre and rhythm, there have been
substituted the exact opposites. The gain in poetry is immense, and if it
seems to be somewhat exhausted now, it is fair to remember that fifty years
is a long flowering time for any special poetic plant, not often equalled in
as those which have been quoted in the chapter on eighteenth-century
poetry. In short, literature had got into a sort of treadmill in which all the
effort expended was expended merely in the repeated production of certain
prescribed motions.
It was partly a natural result of this, and partly an effect of other and
accidental causes, that the actual composition of the Academy was in the
first quarter of the nineteenth century by no means such as to inspire much
respect. But it was all the less likely to initiate or to head any movement of
reform. The consequence was, that when the reform came, it came from the
outside, not from the inside, that it was violently opposed, and that, though
it prevailed, and its leaders themselves quickly forced their way into the
sacred precincts, it was as victorious rebels, not as welcomed allies. The
further consequence of this, and of the changes of which account will be
given briefly in the following book, was the alteration to a great extent of
the status of the Academy. It still (though with the old reproach of
illustrious outsiders) includes most of the leading men of letters of France,
and its membership is still, theoretically, the greatest honour that a French
man of letters can receive. But its position is far more ornamental than it
was. It hardly pretends to be in any sense legislative: it is an honorary
assembly, not a working parliament. The chief circumstance that keeps it
before the public is the curious and time-honoured custom which ordains
that the academician appointed to receive each new member shall, in the
most polished and amiable manner, give the most ironical description he
can of the novice's achievements and claims to recognition.
The exact change in literature which has partly caused, and has partly
coincided with this change in the relation of the Academy to letters, will
shortly be displayed, though in somewhat less detail than those changes
which are at a sufficient distance to be estimated by the aid of what has
been well called 'the firm perspective of the past.' For cut-and-dried rules of
criticism, carefully selected and limited models, narrow range of subject,
scanty vocabulary and its corollary periphrasis, stock metaphor and
ornament, stiff or fluidly insignificant metre and rhythm, there have been
substituted the exact opposites. The gain in poetry is immense, and if it
seems to be somewhat exhausted now, it is fair to remember that fifty years
is a long flowering time for any special poetic plant, not often equalled in
Page 523
history, and still less often exceeded. The gain in prose has been more
dubious. Great prose writers will have to be noticed, but it may perhaps be
doubted whether the average value of French prose as prose has not
declined. There would be nothing surprising in this, if it be the case; on the
contrary, it would be a mere repetition of the experience of the sixteenth
century. The language and literature have been flooded with new words,
new forms of speech, new ideas, new models. It takes a very long time
before the mixture thus produced can settle down (at least in the vessel of
the average prose writer) to clearness and brilliancy. It is otherwise in
poetry; in the first place because there is no such thing as an average poet,
and in the second, because the peculiar conditions of poetry exercise of
themselves a refining influence, which is not present in prose. At present it
may be said, and not without truth, that, putting the work of the
extraordinary writers aside, ordinary French prose has lost some of its
former graces—its lucidity, its proportion, its easy march. From being the
most childishly prudish of all writers about neologisms and the mot propre,
the French prose writer has become the most clumsily promiscuous in his
vocabulary. He is always using 'square' instead of 'place,' 'le macadam'
instead of 'le pavé,' 'un caoutchouc' when he means a waterproof overcoat.
Much of this, no doubt, is due to the singular inability which the language
seems to experience in forming genuine vernacular compounds; an inability
from which a few more persons like the much ridiculed Du Bartas might
have rescued it. But, however this may be, it must be admitted that, great as
have been the benefits of the Romantic movement, it has left the ordinary
French prose style of novel and newspaper in a condition of indigestion and
disarray.
As for the movement itself, the most brilliant season of romantic
productiveness seems to have terminated, after being long represented only
by its greatest, earliest, and at the same time latest name. The comparative
disorganisation is all the more noticeable. It is in this disorganisation that
our history perforce leaves the magnificent literature which we have traced
from its source. Unsafe as all prophecy is, there are few things less safe to
prophesy about than the progress of literary development. But it is not
historically unreasonable to expect, after the splendid harvest of the last half
century, what is called a dead season, of longer or shorter duration. There is
nothing really discouraging in such seasons either in nature or in art. In
dubious. Great prose writers will have to be noticed, but it may perhaps be
doubted whether the average value of French prose as prose has not
declined. There would be nothing surprising in this, if it be the case; on the
contrary, it would be a mere repetition of the experience of the sixteenth
century. The language and literature have been flooded with new words,
new forms of speech, new ideas, new models. It takes a very long time
before the mixture thus produced can settle down (at least in the vessel of
the average prose writer) to clearness and brilliancy. It is otherwise in
poetry; in the first place because there is no such thing as an average poet,
and in the second, because the peculiar conditions of poetry exercise of
themselves a refining influence, which is not present in prose. At present it
may be said, and not without truth, that, putting the work of the
extraordinary writers aside, ordinary French prose has lost some of its
former graces—its lucidity, its proportion, its easy march. From being the
most childishly prudish of all writers about neologisms and the mot propre,
the French prose writer has become the most clumsily promiscuous in his
vocabulary. He is always using 'square' instead of 'place,' 'le macadam'
instead of 'le pavé,' 'un caoutchouc' when he means a waterproof overcoat.
Much of this, no doubt, is due to the singular inability which the language
seems to experience in forming genuine vernacular compounds; an inability
from which a few more persons like the much ridiculed Du Bartas might
have rescued it. But, however this may be, it must be admitted that, great as
have been the benefits of the Romantic movement, it has left the ordinary
French prose style of novel and newspaper in a condition of indigestion and
disarray.
As for the movement itself, the most brilliant season of romantic
productiveness seems to have terminated, after being long represented only
by its greatest, earliest, and at the same time latest name. The comparative
disorganisation is all the more noticeable. It is in this disorganisation that
our history perforce leaves the magnificent literature which we have traced
from its source. Unsafe as all prophecy is, there are few things less safe to
prophesy about than the progress of literary development. But it is not
historically unreasonable to expect, after the splendid harvest of the last half
century, what is called a dead season, of longer or shorter duration. There is
nothing really discouraging in such seasons either in nature or in art. In
Page 524
each case there is the garnered wealth of the past to fall back upon, and in
each there is confidence that the seeming stagnation and death are in truth
only the necessary pause and period of gestation which precede and bring
about the life of the future.
each there is confidence that the seeming stagnation and death are in truth
only the necessary pause and period of gestation which precede and bring
about the life of the future.
Page 525
BOOK V.
THE NINETEENTH CENTURY.
The preceding chapter will at once have indicated the
defects under which the later classical literature of The Romantic
Movement.
France laboured, and the remedies which were necessary
for them. Those remedies began to be applied early in the reign of Charles
X., and the literary revolution which accompanied them is called the
Romantic movement. Strictly speaking, this movement did not affect, or
rather was not supposed to affect, any branch of letters except the Belles
Lettres; really its influence was far wider, and has affected every branch of
literary composition. Nor is it yet exhausted, although more than two
generations have passed since the current was started. As is usual in the
later stages of such things, this influence is in part disguised under the form
of apparent reactions, developments, modifications, and other eddies or
backwaters of the great wave. But as the Romantic movement was above all
things a movement of literary emancipation, it can never be said to be
superseded until fresh chains are imposed on literature. Of this there is as
yet no sign, except in the puerile and disgusting school of naturalism, a
mere scum-flake—to keep up the metaphor—on the surface of the waters.
The literature of the Revolution, the Empire, and the
early Restoration, which has been in part already Writers of the later
Transition.
surveyed, displayed the last effete products of the old
classical tradition side by side with the vigorous but nondescript and
tentative efforts at reform of Chateaubriand, Madame de Stael, Courier, and
others. So the first products of the new movement found themselves side by
side with what may be called a second generation of the transition. The
names which chiefly illustrate this second generation must be dealt with
before the Romantics proper are arrived at. The chief of them are Béranger,
Lamartine, Lamennais, Cousin, Stendhal, Nodier, and the dramatists
Alexandre Soumet and Casimir Delavigne. Most of these, while irresistibly
impelled half way towards the movement, stood aloof from it in feeling and
taste; others, such as Stendhal, exercised upon it an influence not much felt
THE NINETEENTH CENTURY.
The preceding chapter will at once have indicated the
defects under which the later classical literature of The Romantic
Movement.
France laboured, and the remedies which were necessary
for them. Those remedies began to be applied early in the reign of Charles
X., and the literary revolution which accompanied them is called the
Romantic movement. Strictly speaking, this movement did not affect, or
rather was not supposed to affect, any branch of letters except the Belles
Lettres; really its influence was far wider, and has affected every branch of
literary composition. Nor is it yet exhausted, although more than two
generations have passed since the current was started. As is usual in the
later stages of such things, this influence is in part disguised under the form
of apparent reactions, developments, modifications, and other eddies or
backwaters of the great wave. But as the Romantic movement was above all
things a movement of literary emancipation, it can never be said to be
superseded until fresh chains are imposed on literature. Of this there is as
yet no sign, except in the puerile and disgusting school of naturalism, a
mere scum-flake—to keep up the metaphor—on the surface of the waters.
The literature of the Revolution, the Empire, and the
early Restoration, which has been in part already Writers of the later
Transition.
surveyed, displayed the last effete products of the old
classical tradition side by side with the vigorous but nondescript and
tentative efforts at reform of Chateaubriand, Madame de Stael, Courier, and
others. So the first products of the new movement found themselves side by
side with what may be called a second generation of the transition. The
names which chiefly illustrate this second generation must be dealt with
before the Romantics proper are arrived at. The chief of them are Béranger,
Lamartine, Lamennais, Cousin, Stendhal, Nodier, and the dramatists
Alexandre Soumet and Casimir Delavigne. Most of these, while irresistibly
impelled half way towards the movement, stood aloof from it in feeling and
taste; others, such as Stendhal, exercised upon it an influence not much felt
Page 526
at first, but deep and lasting; one, Nodier, threw in his lot with it frankly and
decidedly.
Pierre Jean de Béranger is one of the most original and
not the least pleasant figures in the long list of French Béranger.
poets. His life, though long, was comparatively
uneventful. Despite the particle of nobility, he belonged to the middle class,
and rather to the lower than to the upper portion of it; for, if his father was a
man of business, his grandfather was a tailor. He himself lived in his youth
with an aunt at Péronne, was then apprenticed to a printer, and was so ill off
that, in 1804, he was saved from absolute poverty only by the patronage of
Lucien Bonaparte, to whom he had sent some of his verses, and who
procured him a small government clerkship. He held this for some years.
After the Restoration, Béranger, whose political creed was an odd
compound of Bonapartism and Republicanism, got into trouble with the
government for his political songs. He was repeatedly fined and
imprisoned, but each sentence made him more popular. After the
Revolution of July, however, he refused to accept any favours from the
Orleanist dynasty, and lived quietly, publishing nothing after 1833. In 1848
he was elected to the Assembly, but immediately resigned his seat. He
behaved to the Second Empire as he had behaved to the July monarchy,
refusing all honours and appointments. He died in 1857. Béranger's poetical
works consist entirely of Chansons, political, amatory, bacchanalian,
satirical, philosophical after a fashion, and of almost every other
complexion that the song can possibly take. Their form is exactly that of the
eighteenth-century Chanson, the frivolity and licence of language being
considerably curtailed, and the range of subjects proportionately extended.
The popularity of Béranger with ordinary readers, both in and out of his
own country, has always been immense; but a somewhat singular reluctance
to admit his merits has been shown by successive generations of purely
literary critics. In France his early contemporaries found fault with him on
the one hand for being a mere chansonnier, and on the other, for dealing
with the chanson in a graver tone than that of his masters, Panard, Collé,
Gouffé, and his immediate predecessor and in part contemporary,
Désaugiers. The sentimental school of the Restoration thought him vulgar
and unromantic. The Romantics proper disdained his pedestrian and
conventional style, his classic vocabulary. The neo-Catholics disliked his
decidedly.
Pierre Jean de Béranger is one of the most original and
not the least pleasant figures in the long list of French Béranger.
poets. His life, though long, was comparatively
uneventful. Despite the particle of nobility, he belonged to the middle class,
and rather to the lower than to the upper portion of it; for, if his father was a
man of business, his grandfather was a tailor. He himself lived in his youth
with an aunt at Péronne, was then apprenticed to a printer, and was so ill off
that, in 1804, he was saved from absolute poverty only by the patronage of
Lucien Bonaparte, to whom he had sent some of his verses, and who
procured him a small government clerkship. He held this for some years.
After the Restoration, Béranger, whose political creed was an odd
compound of Bonapartism and Republicanism, got into trouble with the
government for his political songs. He was repeatedly fined and
imprisoned, but each sentence made him more popular. After the
Revolution of July, however, he refused to accept any favours from the
Orleanist dynasty, and lived quietly, publishing nothing after 1833. In 1848
he was elected to the Assembly, but immediately resigned his seat. He
behaved to the Second Empire as he had behaved to the July monarchy,
refusing all honours and appointments. He died in 1857. Béranger's poetical
works consist entirely of Chansons, political, amatory, bacchanalian,
satirical, philosophical after a fashion, and of almost every other
complexion that the song can possibly take. Their form is exactly that of the
eighteenth-century Chanson, the frivolity and licence of language being
considerably curtailed, and the range of subjects proportionately extended.
The popularity of Béranger with ordinary readers, both in and out of his
own country, has always been immense; but a somewhat singular reluctance
to admit his merits has been shown by successive generations of purely
literary critics. In France his early contemporaries found fault with him on
the one hand for being a mere chansonnier, and on the other, for dealing
with the chanson in a graver tone than that of his masters, Panard, Collé,
Gouffé, and his immediate predecessor and in part contemporary,
Désaugiers. The sentimental school of the Restoration thought him vulgar
and unromantic. The Romantics proper disdained his pedestrian and
conventional style, his classic vocabulary. The neo-Catholics disliked his
Page 527
Voltairianism. The Royalists and the Republicans detested, and detest
equally, though from the most opposite sides, his devotion to the
Napoleonic legend. Yet Béranger deserves his popularity, and does not
deserve the grudging appreciation of critics. His one serious fault is the
retention of the conventional mannerism of the eighteenth century in point
of poetic diction, and he might argue that time had almost irrevocably
associated this with the chanson style. His versification, careless as it looks,
is really studied with a great deal of care and success. As to his matter, only
prejudice against his political, religious, and ethical attitude, can obscure
the lively wit of his best work; its remarkable pathos; its sound common
sense; its hearty, if somewhat narrow and mistaken, patriotism; its freedom
from self-seeking and personal vanity, spite, or greed; its thorough
humanity and wholesome natural feeling. Nor can it be fairly said that his
range is narrow. Le Grenier, Le Roi d'Yvetot, Roger Bontemps, Les
Souvenirs du Peuple, Les Fous, Les Gueux, cover a considerable variety of
tones and subjects, all of which are happily treated. Béranger indeed was
not in the least a literary poet. But there is room in literature for other than
merely literary poets, and among these Béranger will always hold a very
high place. The common comparison of him to Burns is in this erroneous,
that the element of passion, which is the most prominent in Burns, is almost
absent from Béranger, and that the unliterary character which was an
accident with Burns was with Béranger essential. The point of contact is,
that both were among the most admirable of song writers, and that both hit
infallibly the tastes of the masses among their countrymen.
Alphonse Prat de Lamartine was in almost every
conceivable respect the exact opposite to Béranger. He Lamartine.
was born at Macon, on the 21st of October, 1791, of a
good family of Franche Comté, which, though never very rich, had long
devoted itself to arms and agriculture only. His father was a strong royalist,
was imprisoned during the Terror, and escaped narrowly. Lamartine was
educated principally by the Pères de la Foi, and, after leaving school, spent
some time first at home and then in Italy. The Restoration gave him
entrance to the royal bodyguard; but he soon exchanged soldiering for
diplomacy, and was appointed attaché in Italy. He had already (1820)
published the Méditations, his first volume of verse, which had a great
success. Lamartine married an English lady in 1822, and spent some years
equally, though from the most opposite sides, his devotion to the
Napoleonic legend. Yet Béranger deserves his popularity, and does not
deserve the grudging appreciation of critics. His one serious fault is the
retention of the conventional mannerism of the eighteenth century in point
of poetic diction, and he might argue that time had almost irrevocably
associated this with the chanson style. His versification, careless as it looks,
is really studied with a great deal of care and success. As to his matter, only
prejudice against his political, religious, and ethical attitude, can obscure
the lively wit of his best work; its remarkable pathos; its sound common
sense; its hearty, if somewhat narrow and mistaken, patriotism; its freedom
from self-seeking and personal vanity, spite, or greed; its thorough
humanity and wholesome natural feeling. Nor can it be fairly said that his
range is narrow. Le Grenier, Le Roi d'Yvetot, Roger Bontemps, Les
Souvenirs du Peuple, Les Fous, Les Gueux, cover a considerable variety of
tones and subjects, all of which are happily treated. Béranger indeed was
not in the least a literary poet. But there is room in literature for other than
merely literary poets, and among these Béranger will always hold a very
high place. The common comparison of him to Burns is in this erroneous,
that the element of passion, which is the most prominent in Burns, is almost
absent from Béranger, and that the unliterary character which was an
accident with Burns was with Béranger essential. The point of contact is,
that both were among the most admirable of song writers, and that both hit
infallibly the tastes of the masses among their countrymen.
Alphonse Prat de Lamartine was in almost every
conceivable respect the exact opposite to Béranger. He Lamartine.
was born at Macon, on the 21st of October, 1791, of a
good family of Franche Comté, which, though never very rich, had long
devoted itself to arms and agriculture only. His father was a strong royalist,
was imprisoned during the Terror, and escaped narrowly. Lamartine was
educated principally by the Pères de la Foi, and, after leaving school, spent
some time first at home and then in Italy. The Restoration gave him
entrance to the royal bodyguard; but he soon exchanged soldiering for
diplomacy, and was appointed attaché in Italy. He had already (1820)
published the Méditations, his first volume of verse, which had a great
success. Lamartine married an English lady in 1822, and spent some years
Page 528
in the French legations at Naples and Florence. He was elected to the
Academy in 1829. After the revolution of July he set out for the East, but,
being elected by a constituency to the Chamber of Deputies, returned. He
acquired much fame as an orator, contributed not a little to the overthrow of
Louis Philippe, and in 1848 enjoyed for a brief space something not unlike
a dictatorship. Power, however, soon slipped through his hands, and he
retired into private life. His later days were troubled by money difficulties,
though he wrote incessantly. In 1867 he received a large grant from the
government of Napoleon III., and died not long afterwards—in 1869. The
chief works of Lamartine are, in verse, the already mentioned Méditations
(of which a new series appeared in 1823), the Harmonies, 1829, the
Recueillements, Le Dernier Chant du Pélerinage d'Harold, Jocelyn, La
Chute d'un Ange, the two last being fragments of a huge epic poem on the
ages of the world; in prose, Souvenirs d'Orient, Histoire des Girondins, Les
Confidences, Raphael, Graziella, besides an immense amount of work for
the booksellers, in history, biography, criticism, and fiction, produced in his
later days. Lamartine's characteristics, both in prose and verse, are well
marked. He is before all things a sentimentalist and a landscape-painter. He
may indeed be said to have wrought into verse what Rousseau, Bernardin
de Saint-Pierre, and Chateaubriand had already expressed in prose,
supplying only an additional, and perhaps original, note of meditative
tenderness. Lamartine's verse is exquisitely harmonious, and frequently
picturesque; but it is deficient in vigour and brilliancy, and marred by the
perpetual current of sentimental complaining. Beyond this he never could
get; his only important attempt in a different and larger style, the Chute d'un
Ange, being, though not without merits, on the whole a failure. In harmony
of verse and delicate tenderness of feeling his poetry was an enormous
advance on the eighteenth century, and its power over its first readers is
easily understood. But Lamartine made little, if any, organic change in the
mechanism of French poetry, so far as its versification is concerned, while
his want of range in subject equally disabled him from effecting a
revolution. His best poems, such as Le Lac, Paysage dans le Golfe de
Gênes, Le Premier Regret, are however among the happiest expressions of a
dainty but rather conventional melancholy, irreproachable from the point of
view of morals and religion, thoroughly well bred, and creditably aware of
the beauties of nature, which it describes and reproduces with a great deal
of skill.
Academy in 1829. After the revolution of July he set out for the East, but,
being elected by a constituency to the Chamber of Deputies, returned. He
acquired much fame as an orator, contributed not a little to the overthrow of
Louis Philippe, and in 1848 enjoyed for a brief space something not unlike
a dictatorship. Power, however, soon slipped through his hands, and he
retired into private life. His later days were troubled by money difficulties,
though he wrote incessantly. In 1867 he received a large grant from the
government of Napoleon III., and died not long afterwards—in 1869. The
chief works of Lamartine are, in verse, the already mentioned Méditations
(of which a new series appeared in 1823), the Harmonies, 1829, the
Recueillements, Le Dernier Chant du Pélerinage d'Harold, Jocelyn, La
Chute d'un Ange, the two last being fragments of a huge epic poem on the
ages of the world; in prose, Souvenirs d'Orient, Histoire des Girondins, Les
Confidences, Raphael, Graziella, besides an immense amount of work for
the booksellers, in history, biography, criticism, and fiction, produced in his
later days. Lamartine's characteristics, both in prose and verse, are well
marked. He is before all things a sentimentalist and a landscape-painter. He
may indeed be said to have wrought into verse what Rousseau, Bernardin
de Saint-Pierre, and Chateaubriand had already expressed in prose,
supplying only an additional, and perhaps original, note of meditative
tenderness. Lamartine's verse is exquisitely harmonious, and frequently
picturesque; but it is deficient in vigour and brilliancy, and marred by the
perpetual current of sentimental complaining. Beyond this he never could
get; his only important attempt in a different and larger style, the Chute d'un
Ange, being, though not without merits, on the whole a failure. In harmony
of verse and delicate tenderness of feeling his poetry was an enormous
advance on the eighteenth century, and its power over its first readers is
easily understood. But Lamartine made little, if any, organic change in the
mechanism of French poetry, so far as its versification is concerned, while
his want of range in subject equally disabled him from effecting a
revolution. His best poems, such as Le Lac, Paysage dans le Golfe de
Gênes, Le Premier Regret, are however among the happiest expressions of a
dainty but rather conventional melancholy, irreproachable from the point of
view of morals and religion, thoroughly well bred, and creditably aware of
the beauties of nature, which it describes and reproduces with a great deal
of skill.
Page 529
The next name on the list belongs to a far stronger, if a
less accomplished, spirit than Lamartine. Félicité Robert Lamennais.
de Lamennais was born in 1782, at St. Malo. In the
confusion of the last decade of the eighteenth century, when, as a
contemporary bears witness, even persons holding important state offices
had often received no regular education whatever, Lamennais was for the
most part his own teacher. He betook himself, however, to literature, and in
1807 was appointed to a mastership in the St. Malo Grammar School.
Shortly afterwards he published a treatise on 'The Church during the
Eighteenth Century,' and taking orders before long followed it up by others.
These placed him in the forefront of the Catholic reaction, of which
Chateaubriand from the picturesque, and Joseph de Maistre from the
philosophical side, were the leaders. He took priest's orders in 1816, and in
1817 published his Essai sur l'Indifférence en Matière de Religion. This is a
sweeping defence of the absolute authority of the Church, but the 'rift
within the lute' already appears. Lamennais bases this authority, according
to a tradition of that very eighteenth century which he most ardently
opposes, on universal consent. Although therefore the deductive portion of
his argument is in thorough accordance with Roman doctrine, the inductive
portion can hardly be said to be so, and it prepared the way for his
subsequent change of front. For a time Lamennais contented himself with
the hope of establishing a sect of liberal royalist Catholics. A rapid
succession of journals, most of which were suppressed, led to the Avenir, in
which Montalembert, Lacordaire, and others took part, and which, like
some English periodicals of a later period, aimed directly at the union of
orthodox religious principles of the Roman complexion with political
liberalism, and a certain freedom of thought in other directions. The Avenir
was definitely censured by Gregory XVI. in 1832, and Lamennais rapidly
fell away from his previous orthodoxy. He had established himself in the
country with a following of youthful disciples. Of these the best-known
now is Maurice de Guérin, a feeble poet who died young, but who, with his
abler sister Eugénie, interested Sainte-Beuve, Mr. Matthew Arnold, and
others. Les Paroles d'un Croyant, which appeared in 1834, united
speculative Republicanism of the most advanced kind with a direct defiance
of Rome in matter of religion, and this was followed by a long series of
works in the same spirit. Lamennais' ardent and ill-balanced temperament,
the chief note of which was the most excessive personal vanity, no sooner
less accomplished, spirit than Lamartine. Félicité Robert Lamennais.
de Lamennais was born in 1782, at St. Malo. In the
confusion of the last decade of the eighteenth century, when, as a
contemporary bears witness, even persons holding important state offices
had often received no regular education whatever, Lamennais was for the
most part his own teacher. He betook himself, however, to literature, and in
1807 was appointed to a mastership in the St. Malo Grammar School.
Shortly afterwards he published a treatise on 'The Church during the
Eighteenth Century,' and taking orders before long followed it up by others.
These placed him in the forefront of the Catholic reaction, of which
Chateaubriand from the picturesque, and Joseph de Maistre from the
philosophical side, were the leaders. He took priest's orders in 1816, and in
1817 published his Essai sur l'Indifférence en Matière de Religion. This is a
sweeping defence of the absolute authority of the Church, but the 'rift
within the lute' already appears. Lamennais bases this authority, according
to a tradition of that very eighteenth century which he most ardently
opposes, on universal consent. Although therefore the deductive portion of
his argument is in thorough accordance with Roman doctrine, the inductive
portion can hardly be said to be so, and it prepared the way for his
subsequent change of front. For a time Lamennais contented himself with
the hope of establishing a sect of liberal royalist Catholics. A rapid
succession of journals, most of which were suppressed, led to the Avenir, in
which Montalembert, Lacordaire, and others took part, and which, like
some English periodicals of a later period, aimed directly at the union of
orthodox religious principles of the Roman complexion with political
liberalism, and a certain freedom of thought in other directions. The Avenir
was definitely censured by Gregory XVI. in 1832, and Lamennais rapidly
fell away from his previous orthodoxy. He had established himself in the
country with a following of youthful disciples. Of these the best-known
now is Maurice de Guérin, a feeble poet who died young, but who, with his
abler sister Eugénie, interested Sainte-Beuve, Mr. Matthew Arnold, and
others. Les Paroles d'un Croyant, which appeared in 1834, united
speculative Republicanism of the most advanced kind with a direct defiance
of Rome in matter of religion, and this was followed by a long series of
works in the same spirit. Lamennais' ardent and ill-balanced temperament,
the chief note of which was the most excessive personal vanity, no sooner
Page 530
threw off the yoke of orthodoxy than it ran to the opposite extreme, and the
Catholic royalist of the first empire became an atheistic, or at most theistic,
democrat. Lamennais died in 1854. He had a great influence both on men
and on books in France, and his literary work is extremely remarkable. It
bears the marks of his insufficient education and of his excitable
temperament. In the Paroles d'un Croyant the style is altogether apocalyptic
in its mystic and broken declamation, full of colour, energy, and vague
impressiveness, but entirely wanting in order, lucidity, and arrangement.
The earlier works show something of this, though necessarily not so much.
Lamennais' literary, as distinguished from his political and social,
importance consists in the fact that he was practically the first to introduce
this style into French. He has since had notable disciples, among whom
Michelet and even Victor Hugo may be ranked.
The contrast of the return from Lamennais to Cousin is
almost as great as that of the change from Lamartine to Victor Cousin.
Lamennais. The careers of the poet and the philosopher
have indeed something in common, for Cousin's delicate, exquisite, and
somewhat feminine prose style is a nearer analogue to the poetry of
Lamartine even than the latter's own prose, and the sudden decline of
Cousin's reputation in philosophy almost matches that of Lamartine's
reputation as a poet. Victor Cousin was born in 1792, at Paris, and was one
of the most brilliant pupils of the Lycée Charlemagne. He passed thence to
the École Normale, and, in the year of the Restoration, became Assistant
Professor to Royer Collard at the Sorbonne. He adopted vigorously the
doctrines of that philosopher, which practically amounted to a translation of
the Scottish school of Reid and Stewart, but he soon combined with them
much that he borrowed from Kant and his successors in Germany. This
latter country he visited twice; on the second occasion with the unpleasant
result of an arrest. He soon returned to France, however, and became
distinguished as a supporter of the liberal party. The years immediately
before and after the July Revolution were Cousin's most successful time.
His lectures were crowded, his eclecticism was novel and popular, and
when after July itself he became officially powerful, he distinguished
himself by patronising young men of genius. During the reign of Louis
Philippe he was one of the most influential of men of letters, though
curiously enough, he combined with his political liberalism a certain
Catholic royalist of the first empire became an atheistic, or at most theistic,
democrat. Lamennais died in 1854. He had a great influence both on men
and on books in France, and his literary work is extremely remarkable. It
bears the marks of his insufficient education and of his excitable
temperament. In the Paroles d'un Croyant the style is altogether apocalyptic
in its mystic and broken declamation, full of colour, energy, and vague
impressiveness, but entirely wanting in order, lucidity, and arrangement.
The earlier works show something of this, though necessarily not so much.
Lamennais' literary, as distinguished from his political and social,
importance consists in the fact that he was practically the first to introduce
this style into French. He has since had notable disciples, among whom
Michelet and even Victor Hugo may be ranked.
The contrast of the return from Lamennais to Cousin is
almost as great as that of the change from Lamartine to Victor Cousin.
Lamennais. The careers of the poet and the philosopher
have indeed something in common, for Cousin's delicate, exquisite, and
somewhat feminine prose style is a nearer analogue to the poetry of
Lamartine even than the latter's own prose, and the sudden decline of
Cousin's reputation in philosophy almost matches that of Lamartine's
reputation as a poet. Victor Cousin was born in 1792, at Paris, and was one
of the most brilliant pupils of the Lycée Charlemagne. He passed thence to
the École Normale, and, in the year of the Restoration, became Assistant
Professor to Royer Collard at the Sorbonne. He adopted vigorously the
doctrines of that philosopher, which practically amounted to a translation of
the Scottish school of Reid and Stewart, but he soon combined with them
much that he borrowed from Kant and his successors in Germany. This
latter country he visited twice; on the second occasion with the unpleasant
result of an arrest. He soon returned to France, however, and became
distinguished as a supporter of the liberal party. The years immediately
before and after the July Revolution were Cousin's most successful time.
His lectures were crowded, his eclecticism was novel and popular, and
when after July itself he became officially powerful, he distinguished
himself by patronising young men of genius. During the reign of Louis
Philippe he was one of the most influential of men of letters, though
curiously enough, he combined with his political liberalism a certain
Page 531
tendency to reaction in matters of pure literature. After 1848 he retired from
public life, and, though he survived for nearly twenty years, produced little
more in philosophy. His brilliant but patchy eclecticism had had its day, and
he saw it; but he earned new and perhaps more lasting laurels by betaking
himself to the study of French literary history, and producing some
charming essays on the ladies of the Fronde. Cousin's history is interesting
as an instance of the accidental prosperity which in the first half of this
century the mixture of politics and literature brought to men of letters. But
his own literary merits are very considerable. Without the freedom and
originality of the great writers who were for the most part his juniors by ten
or twenty years, he possessed a style studied from the best models of the
seventeenth century, which, despite a certain artificiality, has great beauty.
Besides editions of philosophical classics, the chief works of his earlier
period are Fragments Philosophiques, 1827, Cours de l'Histoire de la
Philosophie, 1827; of his later, Du Vrai, Du Beau et Du Bien, and his
studies on the women of the seventeenth century.
The author now to be noticed has found little place
hitherto in histories of literature, and estimates of his Beyle.
positive value are even yet much divided. Henri Beyle,
who wrote under the name of De Stendhal, was born at Grenoble, in
January, 1783. His family belonged to the middle class, though,
unfortunately, Beyle allowed himself during the Empire to be called M. de
Beyle, and incurred not a little ridicule in consequence. His literary alias
was also, it may be noticed, arranged so as to claim nobility. He was a
clever boy, but manifested no special predilection for any profession. At last
he entered the army, and served in it (chiefly in the non-combatant
branches) on some important occasions, including the campaigns of the St.
Bernard, of Jena, and of Moscow. He also held some employments in the
civil service of the Empire. At the Restoration he went to Italy, which was
always his favourite place of residence; but when in 1821 political troubles
began to arise, he was 'politely' expelled by the Austrian police. After this
he lived chiefly in Paris, making part of his living by the unexpected
function of contributing to the London New Monthly Magazine. He knew
English well, admired our literature, and visited London more than once.
Being, as far as he was a politician at all, a Bonapartist, he was not specially
interested in the Revolution of 1830; but it was profitable to him, for
public life, and, though he survived for nearly twenty years, produced little
more in philosophy. His brilliant but patchy eclecticism had had its day, and
he saw it; but he earned new and perhaps more lasting laurels by betaking
himself to the study of French literary history, and producing some
charming essays on the ladies of the Fronde. Cousin's history is interesting
as an instance of the accidental prosperity which in the first half of this
century the mixture of politics and literature brought to men of letters. But
his own literary merits are very considerable. Without the freedom and
originality of the great writers who were for the most part his juniors by ten
or twenty years, he possessed a style studied from the best models of the
seventeenth century, which, despite a certain artificiality, has great beauty.
Besides editions of philosophical classics, the chief works of his earlier
period are Fragments Philosophiques, 1827, Cours de l'Histoire de la
Philosophie, 1827; of his later, Du Vrai, Du Beau et Du Bien, and his
studies on the women of the seventeenth century.
The author now to be noticed has found little place
hitherto in histories of literature, and estimates of his Beyle.
positive value are even yet much divided. Henri Beyle,
who wrote under the name of De Stendhal, was born at Grenoble, in
January, 1783. His family belonged to the middle class, though,
unfortunately, Beyle allowed himself during the Empire to be called M. de
Beyle, and incurred not a little ridicule in consequence. His literary alias
was also, it may be noticed, arranged so as to claim nobility. He was a
clever boy, but manifested no special predilection for any profession. At last
he entered the army, and served in it (chiefly in the non-combatant
branches) on some important occasions, including the campaigns of the St.
Bernard, of Jena, and of Moscow. He also held some employments in the
civil service of the Empire. At the Restoration he went to Italy, which was
always his favourite place of residence; but when in 1821 political troubles
began to arise, he was 'politely' expelled by the Austrian police. After this
he lived chiefly in Paris, making part of his living by the unexpected
function of contributing to the London New Monthly Magazine. He knew
English well, admired our literature, and visited London more than once.
Being, as far as he was a politician at all, a Bonapartist, he was not specially
interested in the Revolution of 1830; but it was profitable to him, for
Page 532
through some of his friends he was appointed French consul, first at Trieste,
and then (the Austrians objecting) at Civita Vecchia. He lived, however,
chiefly at Rome, and travelled a good deal. Latterly his health was weak,
and he died at Paris, in 1842, of apoplexy. He was buried at Montmartre;
but, with his usual eccentricity, his epitaph was by his direction written in
Italian, and he was described as a Milanese. Beyle's character, personal and
literary, was very peculiar. In temperament, religious views, and social
ideas he was a belated philosophe of the Diderot school. But in literature he
had improved even on Diderot, and very nearly anticipated the full results
of the Romantic movement, while in politics, as has been said, he was an
imperialist. His works are pretty voluminous. They consist of novels (La
Chartreuse de Parme, Armance, Le Rouge et le Noir, Mémoires d'un
Touriste, etc.); of criticism (Histoire de la Peinture en Italie, Racine et
Shakespeare, Mélanges); of biography (Lives of Napoleon, Haydn, Mozart,
Metastasio, etc.); of topographical writing of a miscellaneous kind
(Promenades dans Rome, Naples et Florence, etc.); and lastly, of a singular
book entitled De l'Amour, which unites extraordinary acuteness and
originality of thought with cynicism of expression and paradox of theory. In
this book, and in his novels, Beyle made himself the ancestor of what has
been called successively realism and naturalism in France. Perhaps,
however, his most remarkable work was Mérimée, of whose family he was
a friend, and who, far excelling him in merit of style if not in freshness of
thought, learnt beyond all doubt from him his peculiar and half-affected
cynicism of tone, his curious predilection for the apparently opposed
literatures of England and Southern Europe, and not improbably also his
imperialism. Beyle is a difficult author to judge briefly, the contradictions,
affectations, and oddities in him demanding minute examination. Of his
power, intrinsic and exerted on others, there is no doubt.
The three remaining writers require shorter notice.
Charles Nodier, who was born at Besançon in 1780, and Nodier.
died at Paris in 1844, is one of the most remarkable
failures of a great genius in French literary history. He Delavigne.
did almost everything—lexicography, text-editing,
criticism, poetry, romance—and he did everything well, Soumet.
but perhaps nothing supremely well. If an exception be
made to this verdict, it must be in favour of his short tales, some of which
and then (the Austrians objecting) at Civita Vecchia. He lived, however,
chiefly at Rome, and travelled a good deal. Latterly his health was weak,
and he died at Paris, in 1842, of apoplexy. He was buried at Montmartre;
but, with his usual eccentricity, his epitaph was by his direction written in
Italian, and he was described as a Milanese. Beyle's character, personal and
literary, was very peculiar. In temperament, religious views, and social
ideas he was a belated philosophe of the Diderot school. But in literature he
had improved even on Diderot, and very nearly anticipated the full results
of the Romantic movement, while in politics, as has been said, he was an
imperialist. His works are pretty voluminous. They consist of novels (La
Chartreuse de Parme, Armance, Le Rouge et le Noir, Mémoires d'un
Touriste, etc.); of criticism (Histoire de la Peinture en Italie, Racine et
Shakespeare, Mélanges); of biography (Lives of Napoleon, Haydn, Mozart,
Metastasio, etc.); of topographical writing of a miscellaneous kind
(Promenades dans Rome, Naples et Florence, etc.); and lastly, of a singular
book entitled De l'Amour, which unites extraordinary acuteness and
originality of thought with cynicism of expression and paradox of theory. In
this book, and in his novels, Beyle made himself the ancestor of what has
been called successively realism and naturalism in France. Perhaps,
however, his most remarkable work was Mérimée, of whose family he was
a friend, and who, far excelling him in merit of style if not in freshness of
thought, learnt beyond all doubt from him his peculiar and half-affected
cynicism of tone, his curious predilection for the apparently opposed
literatures of England and Southern Europe, and not improbably also his
imperialism. Beyle is a difficult author to judge briefly, the contradictions,
affectations, and oddities in him demanding minute examination. Of his
power, intrinsic and exerted on others, there is no doubt.
The three remaining writers require shorter notice.
Charles Nodier, who was born at Besançon in 1780, and Nodier.
died at Paris in 1844, is one of the most remarkable
failures of a great genius in French literary history. He Delavigne.
did almost everything—lexicography, text-editing,
criticism, poetry, romance—and he did everything well, Soumet.
but perhaps nothing supremely well. If an exception be
made to this verdict, it must be in favour of his short tales, some of which
Page 533
are exquisite, and all but, if not quite, masterpieces. As librarian of the
Mazarin Library, Nodier was a kind of centre of the early Romantic circle,
and, though he was more than twenty years older than most of its members,
he identified himself thoroughly with their aims and objects. His
consummate knowledge of the history and vocabulary of the French tongue
probably had no mean influence on that conservative and restorative
character which was one of the best sides of the movement. Casimir
Delavigne was born at Havre in 1793. He first distinguished himself by his
Messéniennes, a series of satires or patriotic jeremiads on the supposed
degradation of France under the Restoration. Then he took to the stage, and
produced successively Les Vêpres Siciliennes, Marino Faliero, Louis XI.
(well known in England from the affection which several English tragic
actors have shown for the title part), Les Enfants d'Edouard, etc. He also
wrote other non-dramatic poems, most of them of a political character.
Casimir Delavigne is a writer of little intrinsic worth. He held aloof from
the Romantic movement, less from dislike to its extravagances and its
cliquism, than from genuine weakness and inability to appreciate the
defects of the classic tradition. He is in fact the direct successor of Ducis
and Marie Joseph Chénier, having forgotten something, but learned little.
The defects of his poems are parallel to those of his plays. His patriotism is
conventional, his verse conventional, his expression conventional, though
the convention is in all three cases slightly concealed by the skilful adoption
of a certain outward colouring of energy and picturesqueness. He was not
unpopular in his day, being patronised to a certain extent by the extreme
classical party, and recommended to the public by his liberal political
principles. But he is almost entirely obsolete already, and is never likely to
recover more than the reputation due to fair literary workmanship in an
inferior style. Alexandre Soumet was another dramatist of the same kind,
but perhaps of a less artificial stamp. He adhered to the old model of drama,
or to something like it, more, apparently, because it satisfied his
requirements, than from abstract predilection for it, or from dislike to the
new models. His Norma has the merit of having at least suggested the
libretto of one of the most popular of modern operas, and his Une Fête sous
Néron is not devoid of merit. Soumet was in the early days of the
movement a kind of outsider in it, and it cannot be said that at any time he
became an enemy, or that his work is conspicuous for any fatal defects
according to the new method of criticism. A deficiency of initiative, rather
Mazarin Library, Nodier was a kind of centre of the early Romantic circle,
and, though he was more than twenty years older than most of its members,
he identified himself thoroughly with their aims and objects. His
consummate knowledge of the history and vocabulary of the French tongue
probably had no mean influence on that conservative and restorative
character which was one of the best sides of the movement. Casimir
Delavigne was born at Havre in 1793. He first distinguished himself by his
Messéniennes, a series of satires or patriotic jeremiads on the supposed
degradation of France under the Restoration. Then he took to the stage, and
produced successively Les Vêpres Siciliennes, Marino Faliero, Louis XI.
(well known in England from the affection which several English tragic
actors have shown for the title part), Les Enfants d'Edouard, etc. He also
wrote other non-dramatic poems, most of them of a political character.
Casimir Delavigne is a writer of little intrinsic worth. He held aloof from
the Romantic movement, less from dislike to its extravagances and its
cliquism, than from genuine weakness and inability to appreciate the
defects of the classic tradition. He is in fact the direct successor of Ducis
and Marie Joseph Chénier, having forgotten something, but learned little.
The defects of his poems are parallel to those of his plays. His patriotism is
conventional, his verse conventional, his expression conventional, though
the convention is in all three cases slightly concealed by the skilful adoption
of a certain outward colouring of energy and picturesqueness. He was not
unpopular in his day, being patronised to a certain extent by the extreme
classical party, and recommended to the public by his liberal political
principles. But he is almost entirely obsolete already, and is never likely to
recover more than the reputation due to fair literary workmanship in an
inferior style. Alexandre Soumet was another dramatist of the same kind,
but perhaps of a less artificial stamp. He adhered to the old model of drama,
or to something like it, more, apparently, because it satisfied his
requirements, than from abstract predilection for it, or from dislike to the
new models. His Norma has the merit of having at least suggested the
libretto of one of the most popular of modern operas, and his Une Fête sous
Néron is not devoid of merit. Soumet was in the early days of the
movement a kind of outsider in it, and it cannot be said that at any time he
became an enemy, or that his work is conspicuous for any fatal defects
according to the new method of criticism. A deficiency of initiative, rather
Page 534
than, as in Delavigne's case, a preference of inferior models, seems to have
been the reason why he did not advance further.
It was, however, reserved for a younger generation
actually to cross the Rubicon, and to achieve the reform The Romantic
which was needed. The assistance which the vast spread Propaganda
Periodicals.
in
of periodical literature lent to such an attempt has been
already noted, and it was in four periodical publications that the first
definite note of the literary revolution was sounded. In these the movement
was carried on for many years before the famous representation of Hernani,
which announced the triumph of the innovators. These four publications
were: first, Le Conservateur Littéraire (a journal published as early as 1819,
before the Odes of Victor Hugo, who was one of its main-stays, or even the
Méditations of Lamartine had appeared); secondly, the Annales
Romantiques, which began in 1823, with perhaps the most brilliant list of
contributors that any periodical—with the possible exception of the nearly
contemporary London Magazine—ever had; a list including Chateaubriand,
Lamennais, Lamartine, Joseph de Maistre (posthumously), Alfred de Vigny,
Henri de Latouche, Hugo, Nodier, Béranger, Casimir Delavigne, Madame
Desbordes-Valmore, and Delphine Gay, afterwards Madame de Girardin.
Although not formally, this was practically a kind of annual of the Muse
Française, which had pretty nearly the same contributors, and conducted
the warfare in more definitely polemical manner by criticism and precept,
as well as by example. Lastly, there was the important newspaper—a real
newspaper this—called Le Globe, which appeared in 1822. The other
Romantic organs had been either colourless as regards politics, or else more
or less definitely conservative and monarchical, the middle age influence
being still strong. The Globe was avowedly liberal in politics. Men of the
greatest eminence in various ways, Jouffroy, Damiron, Pierre Leroux, and
Charles de Rémusat, wrote in it; but its literary importance in history is due
to the fact that here Sainte-Beuve, the critic of the movement, began, and
for a long time carried out the vast series of critical studies of French and
other literature which, partly by destruction and partly by construction,
made the older literary theory for ever obsolete. The various names in
poetry and prose of this romantic movement must now be reviewed.
Victor Marie Hugo was born at Besançon on the 28th of
February, 1802. His father was an officer of distinction Victor Hugo.
been the reason why he did not advance further.
It was, however, reserved for a younger generation
actually to cross the Rubicon, and to achieve the reform The Romantic
which was needed. The assistance which the vast spread Propaganda
Periodicals.
in
of periodical literature lent to such an attempt has been
already noted, and it was in four periodical publications that the first
definite note of the literary revolution was sounded. In these the movement
was carried on for many years before the famous representation of Hernani,
which announced the triumph of the innovators. These four publications
were: first, Le Conservateur Littéraire (a journal published as early as 1819,
before the Odes of Victor Hugo, who was one of its main-stays, or even the
Méditations of Lamartine had appeared); secondly, the Annales
Romantiques, which began in 1823, with perhaps the most brilliant list of
contributors that any periodical—with the possible exception of the nearly
contemporary London Magazine—ever had; a list including Chateaubriand,
Lamennais, Lamartine, Joseph de Maistre (posthumously), Alfred de Vigny,
Henri de Latouche, Hugo, Nodier, Béranger, Casimir Delavigne, Madame
Desbordes-Valmore, and Delphine Gay, afterwards Madame de Girardin.
Although not formally, this was practically a kind of annual of the Muse
Française, which had pretty nearly the same contributors, and conducted
the warfare in more definitely polemical manner by criticism and precept,
as well as by example. Lastly, there was the important newspaper—a real
newspaper this—called Le Globe, which appeared in 1822. The other
Romantic organs had been either colourless as regards politics, or else more
or less definitely conservative and monarchical, the middle age influence
being still strong. The Globe was avowedly liberal in politics. Men of the
greatest eminence in various ways, Jouffroy, Damiron, Pierre Leroux, and
Charles de Rémusat, wrote in it; but its literary importance in history is due
to the fact that here Sainte-Beuve, the critic of the movement, began, and
for a long time carried out the vast series of critical studies of French and
other literature which, partly by destruction and partly by construction,
made the older literary theory for ever obsolete. The various names in
poetry and prose of this romantic movement must now be reviewed.
Victor Marie Hugo was born at Besançon on the 28th of
February, 1802. His father was an officer of distinction Victor Hugo.
Page 535
in Napoleon's army, his mother was of Vendean blood and of royalist
principles, which last her son for a long time shared. His literary activity
began extremely early. He was, as has been seen, a contributor to the
Conservateur Littéraire at the age of seventeen, and, with much work
which he did not choose to preserve, some which still worthily finds a place
in his published collections appeared there. Indeed, with his two brothers,
Abel and Eugène, he took a principal share in the management of the
periodical. His Odes et Poésies Diverses appeared in 1822, when he was
twenty, and were followed two years afterwards by a fresh collection. In
these poems, though great strength and beauty of diction are apparent,
nothing that can be called distinct innovation appears. It is otherwise with
the Odes et Ballades of 1826, and the Orientales of 1829. Here the
Romantic challenge is definitely thrown down. The subjects are taken by
preference from times and countries which the classical tradition had
regarded as barbarous. The metres and rhythm are studiously broken,
varied, and irregular; the language has the utmost possible glow of colour as
opposed to the cold correctness of classical poetry, the completest disdain
of conventional periphrasis, the boldest reliance on exotic terms and daring
neologisms. Two romances in prose, more fantastic in subject and
audacious in treatment than the wildest of the Orientales, had preceded the
latter. The first, Han d'Islande, was published anonymously in 1823. It
handled with much extravagance, but with extraordinary force and
picturesqueness, the adventures of a bandit in Norway. The second, Bug
Jargal, an earlier form of which had already appeared in the Conservateur,
was published in 1826. But the rebels, of whom Victor Hugo was by this
time the acknowledged chief, knew that the theatre was at once the
stronghold of their enemies, and the most important point of vantage for
themselves. Victor Hugo's theatrical, or at least dramatic, début was not
altogether happy. Cromwell, which was published in 1828, was not acted,
and indeed, from its great length and other peculiarities, could hardly have
been acted. It is rather a romance thrown into dramatic form than a play. In
its published shape, however, it was introduced by an elaborate preface,
containing a full exposition of the new views which served as a kind of
manifesto. Some minor works about this time need not be noticed. The final
strokes in verse and prose were struck, the one shortly before the revolution
of July, the other shortly after it, by the drama of Hernani, ou l'Honneur
Castillan, and the prose romance of Notre Dame de Paris. The former, after
principles, which last her son for a long time shared. His literary activity
began extremely early. He was, as has been seen, a contributor to the
Conservateur Littéraire at the age of seventeen, and, with much work
which he did not choose to preserve, some which still worthily finds a place
in his published collections appeared there. Indeed, with his two brothers,
Abel and Eugène, he took a principal share in the management of the
periodical. His Odes et Poésies Diverses appeared in 1822, when he was
twenty, and were followed two years afterwards by a fresh collection. In
these poems, though great strength and beauty of diction are apparent,
nothing that can be called distinct innovation appears. It is otherwise with
the Odes et Ballades of 1826, and the Orientales of 1829. Here the
Romantic challenge is definitely thrown down. The subjects are taken by
preference from times and countries which the classical tradition had
regarded as barbarous. The metres and rhythm are studiously broken,
varied, and irregular; the language has the utmost possible glow of colour as
opposed to the cold correctness of classical poetry, the completest disdain
of conventional periphrasis, the boldest reliance on exotic terms and daring
neologisms. Two romances in prose, more fantastic in subject and
audacious in treatment than the wildest of the Orientales, had preceded the
latter. The first, Han d'Islande, was published anonymously in 1823. It
handled with much extravagance, but with extraordinary force and
picturesqueness, the adventures of a bandit in Norway. The second, Bug
Jargal, an earlier form of which had already appeared in the Conservateur,
was published in 1826. But the rebels, of whom Victor Hugo was by this
time the acknowledged chief, knew that the theatre was at once the
stronghold of their enemies, and the most important point of vantage for
themselves. Victor Hugo's theatrical, or at least dramatic, début was not
altogether happy. Cromwell, which was published in 1828, was not acted,
and indeed, from its great length and other peculiarities, could hardly have
been acted. It is rather a romance thrown into dramatic form than a play. In
its published shape, however, it was introduced by an elaborate preface,
containing a full exposition of the new views which served as a kind of
manifesto. Some minor works about this time need not be noticed. The final
strokes in verse and prose were struck, the one shortly before the revolution
of July, the other shortly after it, by the drama of Hernani, ou l'Honneur
Castillan, and the prose romance of Notre Dame de Paris. The former, after
Page 536
great difficulties with the actors and with outside influences—it is said that
certain academicians of the old school actually applied to Charles X. to
forbid the representation—was acted at the Théâtre Français on the 25th of
February, 1830. The latter was published in 1831. The reading of these two
celebrated works, despite nearly sixty years of subsequent and constant
production with unflagging powers on the part of their author, would suffice
to give any one a fair, though not a complete, idea of Victor Hugo, and of
the characteristics of the literary movement of which he has been the head.
The main subject of Hernani is the point of honour which compels a noble
Spaniard to kill himself, in obedience to the blast of a horn sounded by his
mortal enemy, at the very moment of his marriage with his beloved. Notre
Dame de Paris is a picture by turns brilliant and sombre of the manners of
the mediaeval capital. In both the author's great failing, a deficient sense of
humour and of proportion, which occasionally makes him overstep the line
between the sublime and the ridiculous, is sometimes perceivable. In both,
too, there is a certain lack of technical neatness and completeness in
construction. But the extraordinary command of the tragic passions of pity,
admiration, and terror, the wonderful faculty of painting in words, the
magnificence of language, the power of indefinite poetical suggestion, the
sweep and rush of style which transports the reader, almost against his will
and judgment, are fully manifest in them. As a mere innovation, Hernani is
the most striking of the two. Almost every rule of the old French stage is
deliberately violated. Although the language is in parts ornate to a degree,
the old periphrases are wholly excluded; and when simple things have to be
said they are said with the utmost simplicity. The cadence and arrangement
of the classical Alexandrine are audaciously reconstructed. Not merely is
the practice of enjambement (or overlapping of lines and couplets, as
distinct from the rigid separation of them) frequent and daring, but the
whole balance and rhythm of the individual line is altered. Ever since
Racine the one aim of the dramatist had been to make the Alexandrine run
as monotonously as possible. The aim of Victor Hugo was to make it run
with the greatest possible variety. In short, the whole theory of the drama
was altered. The decade which followed the revolution of July was Victor
Hugo's most triumphant period. A series of dramas, Marion de Lorme, Les
Roi s'Amuse, Lucrèce Borgia, Marie Tudor, Angelo, Les Burgraves,
succeeded each other at short intervals, and were accompanied by four
volumes of immortal verse, Les Feuilles d'Automne, Chants du Crépuscule,
certain academicians of the old school actually applied to Charles X. to
forbid the representation—was acted at the Théâtre Français on the 25th of
February, 1830. The latter was published in 1831. The reading of these two
celebrated works, despite nearly sixty years of subsequent and constant
production with unflagging powers on the part of their author, would suffice
to give any one a fair, though not a complete, idea of Victor Hugo, and of
the characteristics of the literary movement of which he has been the head.
The main subject of Hernani is the point of honour which compels a noble
Spaniard to kill himself, in obedience to the blast of a horn sounded by his
mortal enemy, at the very moment of his marriage with his beloved. Notre
Dame de Paris is a picture by turns brilliant and sombre of the manners of
the mediaeval capital. In both the author's great failing, a deficient sense of
humour and of proportion, which occasionally makes him overstep the line
between the sublime and the ridiculous, is sometimes perceivable. In both,
too, there is a certain lack of technical neatness and completeness in
construction. But the extraordinary command of the tragic passions of pity,
admiration, and terror, the wonderful faculty of painting in words, the
magnificence of language, the power of indefinite poetical suggestion, the
sweep and rush of style which transports the reader, almost against his will
and judgment, are fully manifest in them. As a mere innovation, Hernani is
the most striking of the two. Almost every rule of the old French stage is
deliberately violated. Although the language is in parts ornate to a degree,
the old periphrases are wholly excluded; and when simple things have to be
said they are said with the utmost simplicity. The cadence and arrangement
of the classical Alexandrine are audaciously reconstructed. Not merely is
the practice of enjambement (or overlapping of lines and couplets, as
distinct from the rigid separation of them) frequent and daring, but the
whole balance and rhythm of the individual line is altered. Ever since
Racine the one aim of the dramatist had been to make the Alexandrine run
as monotonously as possible. The aim of Victor Hugo was to make it run
with the greatest possible variety. In short, the whole theory of the drama
was altered. The decade which followed the revolution of July was Victor
Hugo's most triumphant period. A series of dramas, Marion de Lorme, Les
Roi s'Amuse, Lucrèce Borgia, Marie Tudor, Angelo, Les Burgraves,
succeeded each other at short intervals, and were accompanied by four
volumes of immortal verse, Les Feuilles d'Automne, Chants du Crépuscule,
Page 537
Les Voix Intérieures, Les Rayons et les Ombres. The dramas continued to
show Victor Hugo's command of tragic passion, his wonderful faculty of
verse, his fertility in moving situations, and in incidents of horror and
grandeur; but they did not indicate an increased acquaintance with those
minor arts of the playwright, which are necessary to the success of acted
dramas, and which many of Hugo's own pupils possessed to perfection.
Accordingly, towards the end of the decade, some reaction took place
against them, and their author ceased to write for the stage. His purely
poetical productions showed, however, an increase at once of poetical and
of critical power; and of the four volumes mentioned, each one contains
many pieces which have never been excelled in French poetry, and which
may be fairly compared with the greatest poetical productions of the same
kind in other literatures. Meanwhile, Victor Hugo's political ideas (which
never, in any of their forms, brought him much luck, literary or other) had
undergone a remarkable change. During the reign of Louis Philippe, he,
who had recently been an ardent legitimist, became, first, a constitutional
royalist (in which capacity he accepted from the king a peerage), then an
extreme liberal, and at last, when the revolution of 1848 broke out, a
republican democrat. He was banished for his opposition to Louis
Napoleon, and fled, first to Brussels, and then to the Channel Islands,
launching against his enemy a prose lampoon, Napoléon le Petit, and then a
volume of verse, Les Châtiments, of marvellous vigour and brilliancy.
During the ten years before this his literary work had been for the most part
suspended, at least as far as publication is concerned. But his exile gave a
fresh spur to his genius. After four years' residence, first in Jersey, then in
Guernsey, he published Les Contemplations (2 vols.), a collection of lyrical
pieces, not different in general form from the four volumes which had
preceded them; and, in 1859, La Légende des Siècles, a marvellous series of
narrative or pictorial poems representing scenes from different epochs of
the history of the world. These three volumes together represent his poetical
talent at its highest. He, at other times before and since, equalled but never
surpassed them. In La Légende des Siècles the variety of the music, the
majesty of some of the pieces and the pathos of others, the rapid succession
of brilliant dissolving views, and the complete mastery of language and
versification at which the poet arrived, combine to produce an effect not
easily paralleled elsewhere. The Contemplations, as their name imports, are
chiefly meditative. They are somewhat unequal, and the tone of speculative
show Victor Hugo's command of tragic passion, his wonderful faculty of
verse, his fertility in moving situations, and in incidents of horror and
grandeur; but they did not indicate an increased acquaintance with those
minor arts of the playwright, which are necessary to the success of acted
dramas, and which many of Hugo's own pupils possessed to perfection.
Accordingly, towards the end of the decade, some reaction took place
against them, and their author ceased to write for the stage. His purely
poetical productions showed, however, an increase at once of poetical and
of critical power; and of the four volumes mentioned, each one contains
many pieces which have never been excelled in French poetry, and which
may be fairly compared with the greatest poetical productions of the same
kind in other literatures. Meanwhile, Victor Hugo's political ideas (which
never, in any of their forms, brought him much luck, literary or other) had
undergone a remarkable change. During the reign of Louis Philippe, he,
who had recently been an ardent legitimist, became, first, a constitutional
royalist (in which capacity he accepted from the king a peerage), then an
extreme liberal, and at last, when the revolution of 1848 broke out, a
republican democrat. He was banished for his opposition to Louis
Napoleon, and fled, first to Brussels, and then to the Channel Islands,
launching against his enemy a prose lampoon, Napoléon le Petit, and then a
volume of verse, Les Châtiments, of marvellous vigour and brilliancy.
During the ten years before this his literary work had been for the most part
suspended, at least as far as publication is concerned. But his exile gave a
fresh spur to his genius. After four years' residence, first in Jersey, then in
Guernsey, he published Les Contemplations (2 vols.), a collection of lyrical
pieces, not different in general form from the four volumes which had
preceded them; and, in 1859, La Légende des Siècles, a marvellous series of
narrative or pictorial poems representing scenes from different epochs of
the history of the world. These three volumes together represent his poetical
talent at its highest. He, at other times before and since, equalled but never
surpassed them. In La Légende des Siècles the variety of the music, the
majesty of some of the pieces and the pathos of others, the rapid succession
of brilliant dissolving views, and the complete mastery of language and
versification at which the poet arrived, combine to produce an effect not
easily paralleled elsewhere. The Contemplations, as their name imports, are
chiefly meditative. They are somewhat unequal, and the tone of speculative
Page 538
pondering on the mysteries of life which distinguishes them sometimes
drops into what is called sermonising, but their best pieces are admirable.
During the whole of the Second Empire Victor Hugo continued to reside in
Guernsey, publishing, in 1862, a long prose romance, Les Misérables, one
of the most unequal of his books; then another, the exquisite Travailleurs de
la Mer, as well as a volume of criticism on William Shakespeare, some
passages in which rank among the best pieces of ornate prose in French;
and, in 1869, L'Homme qui Rit, a historical romance of a somewhat
extravagant character, recalling his earliest attempts in this kind, but full of
power. A small collection of lyric verse, mostly light and pastoral in
character, had appeared under the title of Chansons des Rues et des Bois.
The Revolution which followed the troubles of France, in 1870, restored
Victor Hugo to his country only to inflict a bitter, though passing,
annoyance on him. He had somewhat mistaken the temper of the National
Assembly at Bordeaux to which he had been elected. He even found
himself laughed at, and he retired to Brussels in disgust. Here he was
identified by public opinion with the Communists, and subjected to some
manifestations of popular displeasure, which, unfortunately, his sensitive
temperament and vivid imagination magnified unreasonably. Returning to
France after the publication of nearly his weakest book, L'Année Terrible,
he lived quietly, but as a kind of popular and literary idol, till his death in
1885. Of his abundant later (including not a little posthumous) work
Quatre-Vingt-Treize, another historical romance, and two books of poetry (a
second series of the Légende des Siècles, 1877, and Les Quatre Vents de
l'Esprit, 1881) at their best, equal anything he has ever done. The second
Légende is inferior to the first in variety of tone and in vivid pictorial
presentment, but equals it in the declamatory vigour of its best passages.
Les Quatre Vents de l'Esprit is, perhaps, the most striking single book that
Victor Hugo produced, containing as it does lyric and narrative work of the
very finest quality, and a drama of an entirely original character, which,
after more than sixty years of publicity, showed a new side of the author's
genius.
This somewhat minute account of Victor Hugo's work must be
supplemented by some general criticism of his literary characteristics. As
will probably have been observed, from what has already been said, there
were remarkable gaps in his ability. In purely intellectual characteristics, the
drops into what is called sermonising, but their best pieces are admirable.
During the whole of the Second Empire Victor Hugo continued to reside in
Guernsey, publishing, in 1862, a long prose romance, Les Misérables, one
of the most unequal of his books; then another, the exquisite Travailleurs de
la Mer, as well as a volume of criticism on William Shakespeare, some
passages in which rank among the best pieces of ornate prose in French;
and, in 1869, L'Homme qui Rit, a historical romance of a somewhat
extravagant character, recalling his earliest attempts in this kind, but full of
power. A small collection of lyric verse, mostly light and pastoral in
character, had appeared under the title of Chansons des Rues et des Bois.
The Revolution which followed the troubles of France, in 1870, restored
Victor Hugo to his country only to inflict a bitter, though passing,
annoyance on him. He had somewhat mistaken the temper of the National
Assembly at Bordeaux to which he had been elected. He even found
himself laughed at, and he retired to Brussels in disgust. Here he was
identified by public opinion with the Communists, and subjected to some
manifestations of popular displeasure, which, unfortunately, his sensitive
temperament and vivid imagination magnified unreasonably. Returning to
France after the publication of nearly his weakest book, L'Année Terrible,
he lived quietly, but as a kind of popular and literary idol, till his death in
1885. Of his abundant later (including not a little posthumous) work
Quatre-Vingt-Treize, another historical romance, and two books of poetry (a
second series of the Légende des Siècles, 1877, and Les Quatre Vents de
l'Esprit, 1881) at their best, equal anything he has ever done. The second
Légende is inferior to the first in variety of tone and in vivid pictorial
presentment, but equals it in the declamatory vigour of its best passages.
Les Quatre Vents de l'Esprit is, perhaps, the most striking single book that
Victor Hugo produced, containing as it does lyric and narrative work of the
very finest quality, and a drama of an entirely original character, which,
after more than sixty years of publicity, showed a new side of the author's
genius.
This somewhat minute account of Victor Hugo's work must be
supplemented by some general criticism of his literary characteristics. As
will probably have been observed, from what has already been said, there
were remarkable gaps in his ability. In purely intellectual characteristics, the
Page 539
characteristics of the logician and the philosopher, he was weak. He was
also, as has been said, deficient in the sense of humorous contrast, and in
the perception of strict literary proportion. Long years of solitary pre-
eminence, and of the frequently unreasonable worship of fools as well as of
wise men, gave him, or encouraged in him, a tendency to regard the
universe too much from the point of view of France in the first place, Paris
in the second, and Victor Hugo in the third. His unequalled skill in the
management of proper names tempted him to abuse them as instruments of
sonority in his verse. He is often inaccurate in fact, presenting in this
respect a remarkable resemblance to his counterpart and complement
Voltaire. The one merit which swallowed up almost all others in classical
and pseudo-classical literature is wanting in him—the sense of measure. He
is a childish politician, a visionary social reformer. But, when all this has
been said, there remains a sum total of purely literary merits which suffices
to place him on a level with the greatest in literature. The mere fact that he
is equally remarkable for the exquisite grace of his smaller lyrics, and for
the rhetorical magnificence of his declamatory passages, argues some
peculiar and masterly idiosyncrasy in him. No poet has a rarer and more
delicate touch of pathos, none a more masculine or a fuller tone of
indignation. The great peculiarity of Victor Hugo is that his poetry always
transports. No one who cares for poetry at all, and who has mastered the
preliminary necessity of acquaintance with the French language and French
prosody, can read any of his better works without gradually rising to a
condition of enthusiasm in which the possible defects of the matter are
altogether lost sight of in the unsurpassed and dazzling excellence of the
manner. This is the special test of poetry, and there is none other. The
technical means by which Victor Hugo produces these effects have been
already hinted at. They consist in a mastery of varied versification, in an
extraordinary command of pictorial language, dealing at once with physical
and mental phenomena, and, above all, in a certain irresistible habit of
never allowing the iron to grow cold. Stroke follows stroke in the exciting
and transporting process in a manner not easily paralleled in other writers.
Other poets are often best exhibited by very short extracts, by jewels five
words long. This is not so with Victor Hugo. He has such jewels, but they
are not his chief titles to admiration. The ardour and flow, as of molten
metal, which characterise him are felt only in the mass, and must be sought
there. What has been said of his verse is true, with but slight modifications,
also, as has been said, deficient in the sense of humorous contrast, and in
the perception of strict literary proportion. Long years of solitary pre-
eminence, and of the frequently unreasonable worship of fools as well as of
wise men, gave him, or encouraged in him, a tendency to regard the
universe too much from the point of view of France in the first place, Paris
in the second, and Victor Hugo in the third. His unequalled skill in the
management of proper names tempted him to abuse them as instruments of
sonority in his verse. He is often inaccurate in fact, presenting in this
respect a remarkable resemblance to his counterpart and complement
Voltaire. The one merit which swallowed up almost all others in classical
and pseudo-classical literature is wanting in him—the sense of measure. He
is a childish politician, a visionary social reformer. But, when all this has
been said, there remains a sum total of purely literary merits which suffices
to place him on a level with the greatest in literature. The mere fact that he
is equally remarkable for the exquisite grace of his smaller lyrics, and for
the rhetorical magnificence of his declamatory passages, argues some
peculiar and masterly idiosyncrasy in him. No poet has a rarer and more
delicate touch of pathos, none a more masculine or a fuller tone of
indignation. The great peculiarity of Victor Hugo is that his poetry always
transports. No one who cares for poetry at all, and who has mastered the
preliminary necessity of acquaintance with the French language and French
prosody, can read any of his better works without gradually rising to a
condition of enthusiasm in which the possible defects of the matter are
altogether lost sight of in the unsurpassed and dazzling excellence of the
manner. This is the special test of poetry, and there is none other. The
technical means by which Victor Hugo produces these effects have been
already hinted at. They consist in a mastery of varied versification, in an
extraordinary command of pictorial language, dealing at once with physical
and mental phenomena, and, above all, in a certain irresistible habit of
never allowing the iron to grow cold. Stroke follows stroke in the exciting
and transporting process in a manner not easily paralleled in other writers.
Other poets are often best exhibited by very short extracts, by jewels five
words long. This is not so with Victor Hugo. He has such jewels, but they
are not his chief titles to admiration. The ardour and flow, as of molten
metal, which characterise him are felt only in the mass, and must be sought
there. What has been said of his verse is true, with but slight modifications,
Page 540
of his prose, which is however on the whole inferior. His unequalled
versification is a weapon which he could not exchange for the less pointed
tool of prose without losing much of his power. His defects emerge as his
merits subside. But taking him altogether, it may be asserted, without the
least fear of contradiction, that Victor Hugo deserves the title of the greatest
poet hitherto, and of one of the greatest prose writers of France. Such a
faculty, thrown into almost any cause, must have gone far to make it
triumph. But in a cause of such merits, and so stoutly seconded by others, as
that of the destruction of the classical tradition which had cramped and
starved French literature, there could be no doubt of success when a
champion such as Victor Hugo took up and carried through to the end the
task of championship.
It is very seldom that the two different forces of
criticism and creation work together as they did in the Sainte-Beuve.
case of the Romantic movement. Each had numerous
representatives, but the point of importance is that each was represented by
one of the greatest masters. Charles Augustin Sainte-Beuve, the critic not
merely of the Romantic movement, but of the nineteenth century, and in a
manner the first scientific and universal critic that the world has seen, was
born at Boulogne on the 23rd of December, 1804. His father held an office
of some importance; his mother was of English blood. He was well
educated, first at his native town, then at Paris. He began by studying
medicine, but very soon turned to literature, and, as has been said,
distinguished himself on the Globe. The most important of his articles in
this paper were devoted to the French literature of the sixteenth century, and
these were published as a volume, in 1828, with great success. Sainte-
Beuve at once became the critic en titre of the movement, though he did not
very long continue in formal connection with it. It was some time, however,
before he resigned himself to purely critical work. Les Poésies de Joseph
Delorme, Les Consolations, and Volupté were successive attempts at
original composition, which, despite the talent of their author, hardly made
much mark, or deserved to make it. He did not persevere further in a career
for which he was evidently unfitted, but betook himself to the long series of
separate critical studies, partly of foreign and classical literature, but usually
of French, which made his reputation. The papers to which he chiefly
contributed were the Constitutionnel and the Moniteur, and during the
versification is a weapon which he could not exchange for the less pointed
tool of prose without losing much of his power. His defects emerge as his
merits subside. But taking him altogether, it may be asserted, without the
least fear of contradiction, that Victor Hugo deserves the title of the greatest
poet hitherto, and of one of the greatest prose writers of France. Such a
faculty, thrown into almost any cause, must have gone far to make it
triumph. But in a cause of such merits, and so stoutly seconded by others, as
that of the destruction of the classical tradition which had cramped and
starved French literature, there could be no doubt of success when a
champion such as Victor Hugo took up and carried through to the end the
task of championship.
It is very seldom that the two different forces of
criticism and creation work together as they did in the Sainte-Beuve.
case of the Romantic movement. Each had numerous
representatives, but the point of importance is that each was represented by
one of the greatest masters. Charles Augustin Sainte-Beuve, the critic not
merely of the Romantic movement, but of the nineteenth century, and in a
manner the first scientific and universal critic that the world has seen, was
born at Boulogne on the 23rd of December, 1804. His father held an office
of some importance; his mother was of English blood. He was well
educated, first at his native town, then at Paris. He began by studying
medicine, but very soon turned to literature, and, as has been said,
distinguished himself on the Globe. The most important of his articles in
this paper were devoted to the French literature of the sixteenth century, and
these were published as a volume, in 1828, with great success. Sainte-
Beuve at once became the critic en titre of the movement, though he did not
very long continue in formal connection with it. It was some time, however,
before he resigned himself to purely critical work. Les Poésies de Joseph
Delorme, Les Consolations, and Volupté were successive attempts at
original composition, which, despite the talent of their author, hardly made
much mark, or deserved to make it. He did not persevere further in a career
for which he was evidently unfitted, but betook himself to the long series of
separate critical studies, partly of foreign and classical literature, but usually
of French, which made his reputation. The papers to which he chiefly
contributed were the Constitutionnel and the Moniteur, and during the
Page 541
middle of this century his Monday feuilletons of criticism were the chief
recurring literary event of Europe. These studies were at intervals collected
and published in sets under the titles Critiques et Portraits Littéraires,
Portraits Contemporains, Causeries du Lundi, and Nouveaux Lundis, the
last series only finishing with his death in 1869. Besides this he had
undertaken a single work of great magnitude in his Histoire de Port Royal,
on which he spent some twenty years. He was elected to the Academy in
1845, and after the establishment of the Empire he was one of the few
distinguished literary men who took its side. The first reward that he
obtained was a professorship in the College de France; but some years
before his death he received the senatorship, a lucrative position, and one
which interfered very little with the studies of the occupant. In character
Sainte-Beuve strongly resembled some of the epicureans of his favourite
seventeenth century; but whatever faults he may have had were redeemed
by much good-nature and an entire absence of literary vanity.
The importance of Sainte-Beuve in literature is
historically, and as a matter of influence, superior even His Method.
to that of the great poet with whom he was for some
time in close friendship, though before very long their Dangers of the
stars fell apart. Until his time the science of criticism Method.
had been almost entirely conducted on what may be called pedagogic lines.
The critic either constructed for himself, or more probably accepted from
tradition, a cut-and-dried scheme of the correct plan of different kinds of
literature, and contented himself with adjusting any new work to this,
marking off its agreements or differences, and judging accordingly. Here
and there in French literature critics like Saint-Evremond, Fénelon, La
Bruyère in part, Diderot, Joubert, had adopted another method, but the
small acquaintance which most Frenchmen possessed of literature other
than their own stood in the way of success. Sainte-Beuve was the first to
found criticism on a wide study of literature, instead of directing a more or
less narrow study of literature by critical rules. Victor Hugo himself has laid
down, in the preface to the Orientales, one important principle—the
principle that the critic has only to judge of the intrinsic goodness of the
book, and not of its conformity to certain pre-established ideas. There
remains the difficulty of deciding what is intrinsically good or bad. To solve
this, the only way is, first, to prepare the mind of the critic by a wide study
recurring literary event of Europe. These studies were at intervals collected
and published in sets under the titles Critiques et Portraits Littéraires,
Portraits Contemporains, Causeries du Lundi, and Nouveaux Lundis, the
last series only finishing with his death in 1869. Besides this he had
undertaken a single work of great magnitude in his Histoire de Port Royal,
on which he spent some twenty years. He was elected to the Academy in
1845, and after the establishment of the Empire he was one of the few
distinguished literary men who took its side. The first reward that he
obtained was a professorship in the College de France; but some years
before his death he received the senatorship, a lucrative position, and one
which interfered very little with the studies of the occupant. In character
Sainte-Beuve strongly resembled some of the epicureans of his favourite
seventeenth century; but whatever faults he may have had were redeemed
by much good-nature and an entire absence of literary vanity.
The importance of Sainte-Beuve in literature is
historically, and as a matter of influence, superior even His Method.
to that of the great poet with whom he was for some
time in close friendship, though before very long their Dangers of the
stars fell apart. Until his time the science of criticism Method.
had been almost entirely conducted on what may be called pedagogic lines.
The critic either constructed for himself, or more probably accepted from
tradition, a cut-and-dried scheme of the correct plan of different kinds of
literature, and contented himself with adjusting any new work to this,
marking off its agreements or differences, and judging accordingly. Here
and there in French literature critics like Saint-Evremond, Fénelon, La
Bruyère in part, Diderot, Joubert, had adopted another method, but the
small acquaintance which most Frenchmen possessed of literature other
than their own stood in the way of success. Sainte-Beuve was the first to
found criticism on a wide study of literature, instead of directing a more or
less narrow study of literature by critical rules. Victor Hugo himself has laid
down, in the preface to the Orientales, one important principle—the
principle that the critic has only to judge of the intrinsic goodness of the
book, and not of its conformity to certain pre-established ideas. There
remains the difficulty of deciding what is intrinsically good or bad. To solve
this, the only way is, first, to prepare the mind of the critic by a wide study
Page 542
of literature, which may free him from merely local and national prejudices;
and, secondly, to direct his attention not so much to cut-and-dried ideas of
an epic, a sonnet, a drama, as to the object which the author himself had
before him when he composed his work. In carrying out this principle it
becomes obviously of great importance to study the man himself as well as
his works, and his works as a whole as well as the particular sample before
the judge. Sainte-Beuve was almost the first in France to set the example of
the causerie critique, the essay which sets before the reader the life,
circumstances, aims, society, and literary atmosphere of the author, as well
as his literary achievements. This accounts for the extreme interest shown
by the public in what had very commonly been regarded as one of the idlest
and least profitable kinds of literature. At the same time the method has two
dangers to which it is specially exposed. One is the danger of limiting the
consideration to external facts merely, and giving a gossiping biography
rather than a criticism. The other, and the more subtle danger, is the
construction of a new cut-and-dried theory instead of the old one, by
regarding every man as simply a product of his age and circumstances, and
ticketing him off accordingly without considering his works themselves to
see whether they bear out the theory by facts. In either case, the great
question which Victor Hugo has stated, 'L'ouvrage est-il bon ou est-il
mauvais?' remains unanswered in any satisfactory measure. Sainte-Beuve
himself did not often fall into either error. His taste was remarkably catholic
and remarkably fine. The only fault which can justly be found with him is
the fault which naturally besets such a critic, the tendency to look too
complacently on persons of moderate talent, whose merits he himself is
perhaps the first to recognise fully, and to be proportionately unjust to the
greater names whose merits, on good systems and bad alike, are universally
acknowledged, in whose case it is difficult to say anything new, and who
are therefore somewhat ungrateful subjects for the ingenious and delicate
analysis which more mixed talents repay. But study of the work of such a
man as Sainte-Beuve is an almost absolute safeguard against the intolerance
of former days in matter of literature, and this is its great merit.
Around Victor Hugo were grouped not a few writers
who were only inferior to himself. But, before Dumas the Elder.
mentioning the members of what is called the cénacle,
or innermost Romantic circle, a third name of almost equal temporary
and, secondly, to direct his attention not so much to cut-and-dried ideas of
an epic, a sonnet, a drama, as to the object which the author himself had
before him when he composed his work. In carrying out this principle it
becomes obviously of great importance to study the man himself as well as
his works, and his works as a whole as well as the particular sample before
the judge. Sainte-Beuve was almost the first in France to set the example of
the causerie critique, the essay which sets before the reader the life,
circumstances, aims, society, and literary atmosphere of the author, as well
as his literary achievements. This accounts for the extreme interest shown
by the public in what had very commonly been regarded as one of the idlest
and least profitable kinds of literature. At the same time the method has two
dangers to which it is specially exposed. One is the danger of limiting the
consideration to external facts merely, and giving a gossiping biography
rather than a criticism. The other, and the more subtle danger, is the
construction of a new cut-and-dried theory instead of the old one, by
regarding every man as simply a product of his age and circumstances, and
ticketing him off accordingly without considering his works themselves to
see whether they bear out the theory by facts. In either case, the great
question which Victor Hugo has stated, 'L'ouvrage est-il bon ou est-il
mauvais?' remains unanswered in any satisfactory measure. Sainte-Beuve
himself did not often fall into either error. His taste was remarkably catholic
and remarkably fine. The only fault which can justly be found with him is
the fault which naturally besets such a critic, the tendency to look too
complacently on persons of moderate talent, whose merits he himself is
perhaps the first to recognise fully, and to be proportionately unjust to the
greater names whose merits, on good systems and bad alike, are universally
acknowledged, in whose case it is difficult to say anything new, and who
are therefore somewhat ungrateful subjects for the ingenious and delicate
analysis which more mixed talents repay. But study of the work of such a
man as Sainte-Beuve is an almost absolute safeguard against the intolerance
of former days in matter of literature, and this is its great merit.
Around Victor Hugo were grouped not a few writers
who were only inferior to himself. But, before Dumas the Elder.
mentioning the members of what is called the cénacle,
or innermost Romantic circle, a third name of almost equal temporary
Page 543
importance to those of Hugo and Sainte-Beuve must be named—that of
Alexandre Dumas. This writer, one of the most prolific, and in some
respects one of the most remarkable of dramatists and novelists, was the son
of a general in the revolutionary army, and was born, on the 23rd of July,
1806, at Villers Cotterets. He had hardly any education; but, coming to
Paris at the age of twenty, he was fortunate enough to obtain a clerkship in
the household of the Duke of Orleans. He tried literature almost at once,
and in 1829 his Henri III. et sa Cour was played, and was a great success.
This was a year before Hernani, and though Dumas had no pretence to rival
Hugo in literary merit, his drama was quite as revolutionary in style, events,
language, and general arrangement as Hugo's. But he had not heralded it by
any general defiance, and it possessed (what his greater contemporary's
dramatic work never fully possessed) the indefinable knowledge of the
stage and its requirements, which always tells on an audience. After the
Revolution of July, the daring play of Antony achieved an almost equal
success, despite its attacks on the proprieties, attacks of which at that time
French opinion was not tolerant in a serious play. Then he returned to the
historical drama in the Tour de Nesle, another play of strong situations and
reckless sacrifice of everything else to excitement. After this Dumas
published many plays, of which Don Juan de Marana and Kean are perhaps
the most extravagant, and Mademoiselle de Belle-Isle, 1839, the best. But
before long he fell into a train of writing more profitable even than the
drama. This was the composition of historical romances something in
Scott's manner. The most famous of these, such as the Three Musketeers, La
Reine Margot, and Monte Cristo, were produced towards the latter part of
the reign of Louis Philippe, his early patron. He travelled a great deal,
making books and money out of his travels; and sometimes, as when he was
the companion of Garibaldi, finding himself in curious company. No man,
probably, ever made so much money by literature in France as Dumas,
though he was not equally skilled in keeping it. He died, in the midst of the
disasters of his country, on Christmas Eve, 1870. Dumas' literary position
and influence are not very easy to estimate, because of the strange extent to
which he carried what is called collaboration, and his frank avowal of
something very like plagiarism in many of the works which he wrote
unassisted. Endeavours have even been made to show that his most
celebrated works are the production of hack writers whom he paid to write
under his name. Nor is there the least doubt that he did resort on a large
Alexandre Dumas. This writer, one of the most prolific, and in some
respects one of the most remarkable of dramatists and novelists, was the son
of a general in the revolutionary army, and was born, on the 23rd of July,
1806, at Villers Cotterets. He had hardly any education; but, coming to
Paris at the age of twenty, he was fortunate enough to obtain a clerkship in
the household of the Duke of Orleans. He tried literature almost at once,
and in 1829 his Henri III. et sa Cour was played, and was a great success.
This was a year before Hernani, and though Dumas had no pretence to rival
Hugo in literary merit, his drama was quite as revolutionary in style, events,
language, and general arrangement as Hugo's. But he had not heralded it by
any general defiance, and it possessed (what his greater contemporary's
dramatic work never fully possessed) the indefinable knowledge of the
stage and its requirements, which always tells on an audience. After the
Revolution of July, the daring play of Antony achieved an almost equal
success, despite its attacks on the proprieties, attacks of which at that time
French opinion was not tolerant in a serious play. Then he returned to the
historical drama in the Tour de Nesle, another play of strong situations and
reckless sacrifice of everything else to excitement. After this Dumas
published many plays, of which Don Juan de Marana and Kean are perhaps
the most extravagant, and Mademoiselle de Belle-Isle, 1839, the best. But
before long he fell into a train of writing more profitable even than the
drama. This was the composition of historical romances something in
Scott's manner. The most famous of these, such as the Three Musketeers, La
Reine Margot, and Monte Cristo, were produced towards the latter part of
the reign of Louis Philippe, his early patron. He travelled a great deal,
making books and money out of his travels; and sometimes, as when he was
the companion of Garibaldi, finding himself in curious company. No man,
probably, ever made so much money by literature in France as Dumas,
though he was not equally skilled in keeping it. He died, in the midst of the
disasters of his country, on Christmas Eve, 1870. Dumas' literary position
and influence are not very easy to estimate, because of the strange extent to
which he carried what is called collaboration, and his frank avowal of
something very like plagiarism in many of the works which he wrote
unassisted. Endeavours have even been made to show that his most
celebrated works are the production of hack writers whom he paid to write
under his name. Nor is there the least doubt that he did resort on a large
Page 544
scale to something like the practice of those portrait painters who employ
their pupils to paint in the draperies, backgrounds, and accessories of their
work. But that Dumas was the moving spirit still, and the actual author of
what is best and most peculiar in the works that go by his name, is
sufficiently proved by the fact that none of his assistants, whose names are
in many cases known, and who in not a few instances subsequently attained
eminence on their own account, have equalled or even resembled his
peculiar style. Dumas' dramatic work is of but little value as literature
properly so called. His forte is the already mentioned playwright's instinct,
as it may be termed, which made him almost invariably choose and conduct
his action in a manner so interesting and absorbing to the audience that they
had no time to think of the merits of the style, the propriety of the morals,
the congruity of the sentiments. His plays, in short, are intended to be acted,
not to be read. Of his novels many are disfigured by long passages of the
inferior work to be expected from mere hack assistants, by unskilful
insertions of passages from his authorities, and sometimes by plagiarisms so
audacious and flagrant, that the reader takes them as little less than an
insult. His best work, however, such as the whole of the long series ranging
from Les Trois Mousquetaires through Vingt Ans après to Le Vicomte de
Bragelonne, a second long series of which La Reine Margot is a member,
and parts of others, has peculiar and almost unique merits. The style is not
more remarkable as such than that of the dramas; there is not always, or
often, a well-defined plot, and the characters are drawn only in the broadest
outline. But the cunning admixture of incident and dialogue by which
Dumas carries on the interest of his gigantic narrations without wearying
the reader is a secret of his own, and has never been thoroughly mastered by
any one else.
While Dumas thus gave himself up to the novel of
incident, two other writers of equally remarkable genius, Honoré de Balzac.
and of greater merely literary power, also devoted
themselves to prose fiction, and by this means exercised a wide influence
on their generation. Honoré de Balzac was born at Tours, on the 20th of
May, 1799. He was fairly well educated, but his father's circumstances
compelled him to place his son in a lawyer's office. This Balzac could not
endure, and he very shortly betook himself to literature, suffering very
considerable hardships. The task he attempted was fiction, and his
their pupils to paint in the draperies, backgrounds, and accessories of their
work. But that Dumas was the moving spirit still, and the actual author of
what is best and most peculiar in the works that go by his name, is
sufficiently proved by the fact that none of his assistants, whose names are
in many cases known, and who in not a few instances subsequently attained
eminence on their own account, have equalled or even resembled his
peculiar style. Dumas' dramatic work is of but little value as literature
properly so called. His forte is the already mentioned playwright's instinct,
as it may be termed, which made him almost invariably choose and conduct
his action in a manner so interesting and absorbing to the audience that they
had no time to think of the merits of the style, the propriety of the morals,
the congruity of the sentiments. His plays, in short, are intended to be acted,
not to be read. Of his novels many are disfigured by long passages of the
inferior work to be expected from mere hack assistants, by unskilful
insertions of passages from his authorities, and sometimes by plagiarisms so
audacious and flagrant, that the reader takes them as little less than an
insult. His best work, however, such as the whole of the long series ranging
from Les Trois Mousquetaires through Vingt Ans après to Le Vicomte de
Bragelonne, a second long series of which La Reine Margot is a member,
and parts of others, has peculiar and almost unique merits. The style is not
more remarkable as such than that of the dramas; there is not always, or
often, a well-defined plot, and the characters are drawn only in the broadest
outline. But the cunning admixture of incident and dialogue by which
Dumas carries on the interest of his gigantic narrations without wearying
the reader is a secret of his own, and has never been thoroughly mastered by
any one else.
While Dumas thus gave himself up to the novel of
incident, two other writers of equally remarkable genius, Honoré de Balzac.
and of greater merely literary power, also devoted
themselves to prose fiction, and by this means exercised a wide influence
on their generation. Honoré de Balzac was born at Tours, on the 20th of
May, 1799. He was fairly well educated, but his father's circumstances
compelled him to place his son in a lawyer's office. This Balzac could not
endure, and he very shortly betook himself to literature, suffering very
considerable hardships. The task he attempted was fiction, and his
Page 545
experience in it was unique. For years he wrote steadily, and published
dozens of volumes, not merely without attaining success, but without
deserving any. But few of these are ever read now, and when they are
opened it is out of mere curiosity, a curiosity which meets with but little
return. Yet Balzac continued, in spite of hardship and of ill success, to work
on, and in his thirtieth year he made his first mark with Les Derniers
Chouans, a historical novel, which, if not of great excellence, at least shows
a peculiar and decided talent. From this time forward he worked with spirit
and success in his own manner, and in twenty years produced the vast
collection which he himself termed La Comédie Humaine, the individual
novels being often connected by community of personages, and always by
the peculiar fashion of analytical display of character which from them is
identified with Balzac's name. The most successful of these are concerned
with Parisian life, and perhaps the most powerful of all are Le Père Goriot,
Eugénie Grandet, La Cousine Bette, La Peau de Chagrin, La Recherche de
l'Absolu, Séraphita. The last is the best piece of mere writing that Balzac
has produced. He had also a wonderful faculty for short tales (Le Chef-
d'œuvre Inconnu, Une Passion dans le Désert, etc.). He tried the theatre, but
failed. Notwithstanding Balzac's untiring energy (he would often work for
weeks together with the briefest intervals of sleep) and the popularity of his
books, he was always in pecuniary difficulties. These were caused partly by
his mania for speculation, and partly by his singular habits of composition.
He would write a novel in short compass, have it printed, then enlarge the
printed sheets with corrections, and repeat this process again and again until
the expenses of the mere printing swallowed up great part of the profits of
the work. At last he obtained wealth, and, as it seemed, a prospect of
happiness. In 1850 he married Madame Hanska, a rich Polish lady, to whom
he had been attached for many years. He had prepared for a life of opulent
ease at Paris with his wife; but a few months after his marriage he died of
heart disease. Balzac is in a way the greatest of French novelists, because he
is the most entirely singular and original. It has been said of him, with as
much truth as exaggeration, that he has drawn a whole world of character
after having first created it out of his own head. Balzac's characters are
never quite human, and the atmosphere in which they are placed has
something of the same unreality (though it is for the most part tragically and
not comically unreal) as that of Dickens. Everything is seen through a kind
of distorting lens, yet the actual vision is defined with the most
dozens of volumes, not merely without attaining success, but without
deserving any. But few of these are ever read now, and when they are
opened it is out of mere curiosity, a curiosity which meets with but little
return. Yet Balzac continued, in spite of hardship and of ill success, to work
on, and in his thirtieth year he made his first mark with Les Derniers
Chouans, a historical novel, which, if not of great excellence, at least shows
a peculiar and decided talent. From this time forward he worked with spirit
and success in his own manner, and in twenty years produced the vast
collection which he himself termed La Comédie Humaine, the individual
novels being often connected by community of personages, and always by
the peculiar fashion of analytical display of character which from them is
identified with Balzac's name. The most successful of these are concerned
with Parisian life, and perhaps the most powerful of all are Le Père Goriot,
Eugénie Grandet, La Cousine Bette, La Peau de Chagrin, La Recherche de
l'Absolu, Séraphita. The last is the best piece of mere writing that Balzac
has produced. He had also a wonderful faculty for short tales (Le Chef-
d'œuvre Inconnu, Une Passion dans le Désert, etc.). He tried the theatre, but
failed. Notwithstanding Balzac's untiring energy (he would often work for
weeks together with the briefest intervals of sleep) and the popularity of his
books, he was always in pecuniary difficulties. These were caused partly by
his mania for speculation, and partly by his singular habits of composition.
He would write a novel in short compass, have it printed, then enlarge the
printed sheets with corrections, and repeat this process again and again until
the expenses of the mere printing swallowed up great part of the profits of
the work. At last he obtained wealth, and, as it seemed, a prospect of
happiness. In 1850 he married Madame Hanska, a rich Polish lady, to whom
he had been attached for many years. He had prepared for a life of opulent
ease at Paris with his wife; but a few months after his marriage he died of
heart disease. Balzac is in a way the greatest of French novelists, because he
is the most entirely singular and original. It has been said of him, with as
much truth as exaggeration, that he has drawn a whole world of character
after having first created it out of his own head. Balzac's characters are
never quite human, and the atmosphere in which they are placed has
something of the same unreality (though it is for the most part tragically and
not comically unreal) as that of Dickens. Everything is seen through a kind
of distorting lens, yet the actual vision is defined with the most
Page 546
extraordinary precision, and in the most vivid colours. Balzac had great
drawbacks. Despite his noble prefix he cannot conceive or draw either a
gentleman or a lady. His virtuous characters are usually virtuous in the
theatrical sense only; his scheme of human character is altogether low and
mean. But he can analyse vice and meanness with wonderful vigour, and he
is almost unmatched in the power of conferring apparent reality upon what
the reader nevertheless feels to be imaginary and ideal. It follows almost
necessarily that he is happiest when his subject has a strong touch of the
fantastic. The already mentioned Peau de Chagrin—a magic skin which
confers wishing powers on its possessor but shrivels at each wish,
shortening his life correspondingly—and Séraphita, a purely romantic or
fantastic tale, are instances of this. Almost more striking than either are the
Contes Drolatiques, tales composed in imitation of the manner and
language of the sixteenth century. Here the grotesque and fantastic incidents
and tone exactly suit the writer, and some of the stories are among the
masterpieces of French literature. The same sympathy with the abnormal
may be noticed in the Chef-d'œuvre Inconnu, where a solitary painter
touches and retouches his supposed masterpiece till he loses all power of
self-criticism, and at lasts exhibits triumphantly a shapeless and
unintelligible daub of mingled colours. Balzac's style is not in itself of the
best; it is clumsy, inelastic, and destitute of the order and proportion which
distinguish the best French prose, but it is not ill suited to the peculiar
character of his work.
With Balzac's name is inseparably connected, if only
from the striking contrast between them, that of George George Sand.
Sand. Amandine Lucile Aurore Dupin, who took the
writing name of George Sand, was born at Paris in 1804, and had a
somewhat singular family history, of which it is enough to say here that she
was descended through her father's mother from Marshal Saxe, the famous
son of Augustus of Saxony and Aurore von Köningsmarck. At the age of
eighteen she married a man named Dudevant, and was very unhappy,
though it is rather difficult to determine on whom the blame of the
unhappiness ought to rest. They separated after a few years, and she came
to Paris, from her home at Nohant in Berry, to seek a living. She found it
soon in literature, having met with a friend and companion in the novelist
Jules Sandeau, and with a stern and most useful critic in Henri de Latouche.
drawbacks. Despite his noble prefix he cannot conceive or draw either a
gentleman or a lady. His virtuous characters are usually virtuous in the
theatrical sense only; his scheme of human character is altogether low and
mean. But he can analyse vice and meanness with wonderful vigour, and he
is almost unmatched in the power of conferring apparent reality upon what
the reader nevertheless feels to be imaginary and ideal. It follows almost
necessarily that he is happiest when his subject has a strong touch of the
fantastic. The already mentioned Peau de Chagrin—a magic skin which
confers wishing powers on its possessor but shrivels at each wish,
shortening his life correspondingly—and Séraphita, a purely romantic or
fantastic tale, are instances of this. Almost more striking than either are the
Contes Drolatiques, tales composed in imitation of the manner and
language of the sixteenth century. Here the grotesque and fantastic incidents
and tone exactly suit the writer, and some of the stories are among the
masterpieces of French literature. The same sympathy with the abnormal
may be noticed in the Chef-d'œuvre Inconnu, where a solitary painter
touches and retouches his supposed masterpiece till he loses all power of
self-criticism, and at lasts exhibits triumphantly a shapeless and
unintelligible daub of mingled colours. Balzac's style is not in itself of the
best; it is clumsy, inelastic, and destitute of the order and proportion which
distinguish the best French prose, but it is not ill suited to the peculiar
character of his work.
With Balzac's name is inseparably connected, if only
from the striking contrast between them, that of George George Sand.
Sand. Amandine Lucile Aurore Dupin, who took the
writing name of George Sand, was born at Paris in 1804, and had a
somewhat singular family history, of which it is enough to say here that she
was descended through her father's mother from Marshal Saxe, the famous
son of Augustus of Saxony and Aurore von Köningsmarck. At the age of
eighteen she married a man named Dudevant, and was very unhappy,
though it is rather difficult to determine on whom the blame of the
unhappiness ought to rest. They separated after a few years, and she came
to Paris, from her home at Nohant in Berry, to seek a living. She found it
soon in literature, having met with a friend and companion in the novelist
Jules Sandeau, and with a stern and most useful critic in Henri de Latouche.
Page 547
Her first novel of importance was Indiana, published in 1832. This was
followed by Valentine, Lélia, Jacques, etc. The interest of all or most of
these turns on the sufferings of the femme incomprise, a celebrated person
in literature, of whom George Sand is the historiographer, if not the
inventor. A long series of novels of this kind gave way, between 1840 and
1849, first to a series of philosophical rhapsodies, of which Spiridion is the
chief, and then to one in which the political aspirations of the socialist
Republicans appear. Of these, Consuelo, which is perhaps popularly
considered the author's masterpiece, was the chief. Her private history was
somewhat remarkable, and she succeeded in making at least two men of
greater genius than herself, Alfred de Musset and Chopin, utterly miserable.
They, however, afforded the subjects of two noteworthy books, Elle et Lui,
and Lucrezia Floriani, the latter perhaps the most characteristic of all her
early works. After the establishment of the Second Empire her tastes and
habits became quieter. She lived chiefly, and latterly almost wholly, at
Nohant, being greatly attached to the country; and she wrote many
charming sketches of country life with felicitous introduction of patois,
such as La Mare au Diable, François le Champi, La Petite Fadette. Some
voluminous memoirs, published in 1854, dealt with her own early
experiences. She lived till the age of seventy-two, dying in 1876, and never
ceased to put forth novels which showed no distinct falling off in fertility or
imagination, or in command of literary style. She must have written in all
nearly a hundred books. As the chief characteristics of Balzac are intense
observation, concentrated thought, and the most obstinate and unwearying
labour, so the chief characteristic of George Sand is easy improvisation. She
had an active and receptive mind which took in the surface of things,
whether it was love, or philosophy, or politics, or scenery, or manners, with
remarkable and indifferent facility. She had also a style which, if it cannot
be ranked among the great literary styles from its absence of statuesque
outline, and from its too great fluidity, was excellently suited for the task of
improvisation. Her novels, therefore, slipped from her without the slightest
mental effort, and appear to have cost her nothing. It is not true, in this case,
that what has cost nothing is worth nothing. But even favourable critics
admit that it is peculiarly difficult to read a novel of George Sand a second
time, and this is perhaps a decisive test. She is, indeed, far more of an
improvising novelist than Dumas, to whom the term has more often been
applied, though she wrote better French, and attempted more ambitious
followed by Valentine, Lélia, Jacques, etc. The interest of all or most of
these turns on the sufferings of the femme incomprise, a celebrated person
in literature, of whom George Sand is the historiographer, if not the
inventor. A long series of novels of this kind gave way, between 1840 and
1849, first to a series of philosophical rhapsodies, of which Spiridion is the
chief, and then to one in which the political aspirations of the socialist
Republicans appear. Of these, Consuelo, which is perhaps popularly
considered the author's masterpiece, was the chief. Her private history was
somewhat remarkable, and she succeeded in making at least two men of
greater genius than herself, Alfred de Musset and Chopin, utterly miserable.
They, however, afforded the subjects of two noteworthy books, Elle et Lui,
and Lucrezia Floriani, the latter perhaps the most characteristic of all her
early works. After the establishment of the Second Empire her tastes and
habits became quieter. She lived chiefly, and latterly almost wholly, at
Nohant, being greatly attached to the country; and she wrote many
charming sketches of country life with felicitous introduction of patois,
such as La Mare au Diable, François le Champi, La Petite Fadette. Some
voluminous memoirs, published in 1854, dealt with her own early
experiences. She lived till the age of seventy-two, dying in 1876, and never
ceased to put forth novels which showed no distinct falling off in fertility or
imagination, or in command of literary style. She must have written in all
nearly a hundred books. As the chief characteristics of Balzac are intense
observation, concentrated thought, and the most obstinate and unwearying
labour, so the chief characteristic of George Sand is easy improvisation. She
had an active and receptive mind which took in the surface of things,
whether it was love, or philosophy, or politics, or scenery, or manners, with
remarkable and indifferent facility. She had also a style which, if it cannot
be ranked among the great literary styles from its absence of statuesque
outline, and from its too great fluidity, was excellently suited for the task of
improvisation. Her novels, therefore, slipped from her without the slightest
mental effort, and appear to have cost her nothing. It is not true, in this case,
that what has cost nothing is worth nothing. But even favourable critics
admit that it is peculiarly difficult to read a novel of George Sand a second
time, and this is perhaps a decisive test. She is, indeed, far more of an
improvising novelist than Dumas, to whom the term has more often been
applied, though she wrote better French, and attempted more ambitious
Page 548
subjects. The better characteristics of her novels reappeared, perhaps to
greater advantage, in her numerous and agreeable letters, especially those to
the novelist Flaubert.
In striking contrast with these three novelists was
Prosper Mérimée, also a novelist for the most part, but, Mérimée.
unlike them, a comparatively infertile writer[292], and
one of the most exquisite masters of French prose that the nineteenth
century has seen. Mérimée was born in 1803, and was therefore almost
exactly of an age with the writers just mentioned. For a time he took a
certain share in the Romantic movement, but his distinguishing
characteristic was a kind of critical cynicism, partly real, partly affected,
which made him dislike and distrust exaggeration of all kinds. He
accordingly soon fell off. Possessing independent means, and entering the
service of the government, he was not obliged to write for bread, and for
many years he produced little, devoting himself as much to archæology and
the classical languages as to French. He accepted the Second Empire
apparently from a genuine and hearty hatred of democracy, and was
rewarded with the post of senator. But he had to assist Napoleon III. in his
Cæsar, and to dance attendance on the Court, the latter duty being made
somewhat less irksome to him by his personal attachment to the Empress.
Two collections of letters, which have appeared since his death, one
addressed to an unknown lady, and the other to the late Sir Antonio Panizzi,
while adding to Mérimée's literary reputation, have thrown very curious
light on his character, exhibiting him as a man who, with very genuine and
hearty affections, veiled them under an outward cloak of cynicism, for fear
of being betrayed into vulgarity and extravagance. He died in 1870, at the
beginning of the troubles of France, by which he was deeply afflicted. The
entire amount of Mérimée's work is, as has been said, not large, and during
the last twenty years of his life it is almost insignificant. But such as it is, it
has an enduring and monumental value, which belongs to the work of few
of his contemporaries. He began by a curious practice, which united the
romantic fancy for strange countries and strong local colour with his
personal longing for privacy and the absence of literary éclat. Le Théâtre de
Clara Gazul—plays, nominally by a Spanish actress—was produced when
he was but one-and-twenty; two years later, with an audacious anagram on
the title of his previous work, he published, under the title of La Guzla,
greater advantage, in her numerous and agreeable letters, especially those to
the novelist Flaubert.
In striking contrast with these three novelists was
Prosper Mérimée, also a novelist for the most part, but, Mérimée.
unlike them, a comparatively infertile writer[292], and
one of the most exquisite masters of French prose that the nineteenth
century has seen. Mérimée was born in 1803, and was therefore almost
exactly of an age with the writers just mentioned. For a time he took a
certain share in the Romantic movement, but his distinguishing
characteristic was a kind of critical cynicism, partly real, partly affected,
which made him dislike and distrust exaggeration of all kinds. He
accordingly soon fell off. Possessing independent means, and entering the
service of the government, he was not obliged to write for bread, and for
many years he produced little, devoting himself as much to archæology and
the classical languages as to French. He accepted the Second Empire
apparently from a genuine and hearty hatred of democracy, and was
rewarded with the post of senator. But he had to assist Napoleon III. in his
Cæsar, and to dance attendance on the Court, the latter duty being made
somewhat less irksome to him by his personal attachment to the Empress.
Two collections of letters, which have appeared since his death, one
addressed to an unknown lady, and the other to the late Sir Antonio Panizzi,
while adding to Mérimée's literary reputation, have thrown very curious
light on his character, exhibiting him as a man who, with very genuine and
hearty affections, veiled them under an outward cloak of cynicism, for fear
of being betrayed into vulgarity and extravagance. He died in 1870, at the
beginning of the troubles of France, by which he was deeply afflicted. The
entire amount of Mérimée's work is, as has been said, not large, and during
the last twenty years of his life it is almost insignificant. But such as it is, it
has an enduring and monumental value, which belongs to the work of few
of his contemporaries. He began by a curious practice, which united the
romantic fancy for strange countries and strong local colour with his
personal longing for privacy and the absence of literary éclat. Le Théâtre de
Clara Gazul—plays, nominally by a Spanish actress—was produced when
he was but one-and-twenty; two years later, with an audacious anagram on
the title of his previous work, he published, under the title of La Guzla,
Page 549
some nominal translation of Dalmatian prose and verse, in which he utilised
with extraordinary cleverness the existing books on Slav poetry. La Famille
de Carvajal was a further supercherie in the same style. In the very height
and climax of the Romantic movement Mérimée produced two works,
attesting at once his marvellous supremacy of style, his strange critical
appreciation of the current forces in literature, his penetrating insight into
history, and the satiric background of all his thoughts and studies. These
were La Jacquerie, and a Chronique du Règne de Charles IX. These books,
with Balzac's Contes Drolatiques (which they long preceded), are the most
happy creative criticisms extant of the middle ages and the Renaissance in
France. They are not fair or complete: on the contrary, they are definitely
and unfairly hostile. But the mastery at once of human nature and of literary
form which they display, the faculty of vivid resurrection indicated by them,
the range, the insight, the power of expression, are extraordinary. During
the rest of his life Mérimée, with some excursions into history (ancient and
modern), archæology, and criticism, confined himself for the most part to
the production, at long intervals, of short tales or novels of very limited
length. They are all masterpieces of literature, and, like most masterpieces
of literature, they indicate, in a comparatively incidental and by-the-way
fashion, paths which duller men have followed up to the natural result of
absurdity and exaggeration. Colomba, Mateo Falcone, La Double Méprise,
La Vénus d'Ille, L'Enlèvement de la Redoute, Lokis, have equals, but no
superiors either in French prose fiction or in French prose. Grasp of human
character, reserved but masterly description of scenery, delicate analysis of
motive, ability to represent the supernatural, pathos, grandeur, simple
narrative excellence, appear turn by turn in these wonderful pieces, as they
appear hardly anywhere else except in the author to whom we shall come
next. It is noteworthy, however, that Mérimée is a master of the simple style
in literature as Gautier is of the ornate. One cannot be said to be greater
than the other, but between them they exhibit French prose in a perfection
which, since the seventeenth century, it had not possessed.
Théophile Gautier was born considerably later than most
of the writers just mentioned. His birth-year was 1811, Théophile Gautier.
and he was a native of Tarbes in Gascony. His education
was partly at the grammar school of that town, and partly at the Lycée
Charlemagne, where he made friends with Gérard de Nerval, who was
with extraordinary cleverness the existing books on Slav poetry. La Famille
de Carvajal was a further supercherie in the same style. In the very height
and climax of the Romantic movement Mérimée produced two works,
attesting at once his marvellous supremacy of style, his strange critical
appreciation of the current forces in literature, his penetrating insight into
history, and the satiric background of all his thoughts and studies. These
were La Jacquerie, and a Chronique du Règne de Charles IX. These books,
with Balzac's Contes Drolatiques (which they long preceded), are the most
happy creative criticisms extant of the middle ages and the Renaissance in
France. They are not fair or complete: on the contrary, they are definitely
and unfairly hostile. But the mastery at once of human nature and of literary
form which they display, the faculty of vivid resurrection indicated by them,
the range, the insight, the power of expression, are extraordinary. During
the rest of his life Mérimée, with some excursions into history (ancient and
modern), archæology, and criticism, confined himself for the most part to
the production, at long intervals, of short tales or novels of very limited
length. They are all masterpieces of literature, and, like most masterpieces
of literature, they indicate, in a comparatively incidental and by-the-way
fashion, paths which duller men have followed up to the natural result of
absurdity and exaggeration. Colomba, Mateo Falcone, La Double Méprise,
La Vénus d'Ille, L'Enlèvement de la Redoute, Lokis, have equals, but no
superiors either in French prose fiction or in French prose. Grasp of human
character, reserved but masterly description of scenery, delicate analysis of
motive, ability to represent the supernatural, pathos, grandeur, simple
narrative excellence, appear turn by turn in these wonderful pieces, as they
appear hardly anywhere else except in the author to whom we shall come
next. It is noteworthy, however, that Mérimée is a master of the simple style
in literature as Gautier is of the ornate. One cannot be said to be greater
than the other, but between them they exhibit French prose in a perfection
which, since the seventeenth century, it had not possessed.
Théophile Gautier was born considerably later than most
of the writers just mentioned. His birth-year was 1811, Théophile Gautier.
and he was a native of Tarbes in Gascony. His education
was partly at the grammar school of that town, and partly at the Lycée
Charlemagne, where he made friends with Gérard de Nerval, who was
Page 550
destined to have a great influence on his life. After leaving school he was
intended for the profession of art. But, like Thackeray, to whom he had
many points of resemblance, he had much less artistic faculty than taste.
Gérard introduced him to the circle of Victor Hugo, and he speedily became
one of the most fervent disciples of the author of Hernani. In a red
waistcoat which has become historic, and in a mass of long hair which he
continued to wear through life, he was the foremost of the Hugonic claque
at the representation of that famous play. Young as he was, he soon justified
himself as something more than a hanger-on of great men of letters. In 1830
itself he produced a volume of verse, and this was followed by Albertus, an
audacious poem in the extremest Romantic style, and by a work which did
him both harm and good, Mademoiselle de Maupin. In this the most
remarkable qualities of style and artistic conception were accompanied by a
wilful disregard of the proprieties. Before long his unusual command of
style, which was partly natural, partly founded on a wide and accurate study
of the French writers of the sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries,
recommended him to newspaper work, at which he toiled manfully for the
remainder of his life. There was hardly a department of belles lettres which
he did not attempt. He travelled in Algeria, in Russia, in Turkey, in Spain, in
Italy, in England, and wrote accounts of his travels, which are among the
most brilliant ever printed. He was an assiduous critic of art, of the drama
and of literature, and the only charge which has ever been brought against
his work in this kind is that it is usually too lenient—that his fine
appreciation of even the smallest beauties has made him overlook gross
defects. His work in prose fiction was incessant, in poetry more
intermittent, and all the more perfect. When the Empire established itself,
Gautier, who had no political sympathies, but was, in an undecided sort of
way, a conservative from the æsthetic point of view, accepted it. But he
gave it no active support, beyond continuing to contribute to the Moniteur,
and received from it no patronage of any kind. Nor did he sacrifice the least
iota of principle, insisting, in the very face of Les Châtiments, on having his
praise of Victor Hugo inserted in the official journal on pain of his instant
resignation. He led a pleasant but laborious life in one of the suburbs of
Paris, with a household of sisters, daughters, and cats, to all of whom he
was deeply attached. Here he lived through the Prussian siege. On the
restoration of order he manfully grappled with his journalist work again, all
hopes of lucrative appointments having gone with the Empire. But his
intended for the profession of art. But, like Thackeray, to whom he had
many points of resemblance, he had much less artistic faculty than taste.
Gérard introduced him to the circle of Victor Hugo, and he speedily became
one of the most fervent disciples of the author of Hernani. In a red
waistcoat which has become historic, and in a mass of long hair which he
continued to wear through life, he was the foremost of the Hugonic claque
at the representation of that famous play. Young as he was, he soon justified
himself as something more than a hanger-on of great men of letters. In 1830
itself he produced a volume of verse, and this was followed by Albertus, an
audacious poem in the extremest Romantic style, and by a work which did
him both harm and good, Mademoiselle de Maupin. In this the most
remarkable qualities of style and artistic conception were accompanied by a
wilful disregard of the proprieties. Before long his unusual command of
style, which was partly natural, partly founded on a wide and accurate study
of the French writers of the sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries,
recommended him to newspaper work, at which he toiled manfully for the
remainder of his life. There was hardly a department of belles lettres which
he did not attempt. He travelled in Algeria, in Russia, in Turkey, in Spain, in
Italy, in England, and wrote accounts of his travels, which are among the
most brilliant ever printed. He was an assiduous critic of art, of the drama
and of literature, and the only charge which has ever been brought against
his work in this kind is that it is usually too lenient—that his fine
appreciation of even the smallest beauties has made him overlook gross
defects. His work in prose fiction was incessant, in poetry more
intermittent, and all the more perfect. When the Empire established itself,
Gautier, who had no political sympathies, but was, in an undecided sort of
way, a conservative from the æsthetic point of view, accepted it. But he
gave it no active support, beyond continuing to contribute to the Moniteur,
and received from it no patronage of any kind. Nor did he sacrifice the least
iota of principle, insisting, in the very face of Les Châtiments, on having his
praise of Victor Hugo inserted in the official journal on pain of his instant
resignation. He led a pleasant but laborious life in one of the suburbs of
Paris, with a household of sisters, daughters, and cats, to all of whom he
was deeply attached. Here he lived through the Prussian siege. On the
restoration of order he manfully grappled with his journalist work again, all
hopes of lucrative appointments having gone with the Empire. But his
Page 551
health had been broken for some time, and he died in 1872. The works by
which Gautier will be remembered are, in miscellaneous prose, a
remarkable series of studies on curious figures, chiefly of the seventeenth
century, called Les Grotesques, and a companion series on the partakers in
the movement of 1830, besides his descriptive books. In novel writing there
must be mentioned an unsurpassed collection of short tales (the best of
which is La Morte Amoureuse); Le Roman de la Momie, a clever tour de
force reviving ancient Egyptian life; and, lastly, Le Capitaine Fracasse, a
novel in the manner of Dumas, but fashioned in his own inimitable style. In
verse, he wrote, besides work already mentioned, the Comédie de la Mort,
some miscellaneous poems of later date, and, finally, the Émaux et Camées.
In prose he is, as has been said, the greatest recent master of the ornate style
of French, as Mérimée is the greatest master of the simple style. His
mastery over mere language is accompanied by a very fine sense of the total
form of his tales, so that the already-mentioned Morte Amoureuse is one of
the unsurpassable things of literature. In general writing he has a singular
faculty of embalming the most trivial details in the amber of his style, so
that his articles can be read again and again for the mere beauty of them. As
a poet he is specially noteworthy for the same command of form joined to
the same exquisite perfection of language. In Émaux et Camées especially it
is almost impossible to find a flaw; language, metre, arrangement, are all
complete and perfect, and this formal completeness is further informed by
abundant poetic suggestion. The chief fault, if it be a fault, which can be
found with Gautier is, that he set himself too deliberately against the
tendencies of his age, and excluded too rigidly everything but purely
æsthetic subjects of interest from his contemplation, and from the range of
his literary energy.
The most happily-gifted, save one, of the great men of
1830, the weakest beyond comparison in will, in Alfred de Musset.
temperament, in faculty of improving his natural gifts,
has yet to be mentioned. Alfred de Musset was born at Paris in 1810. His
father held a government place of some value; his elder brother, M. Paul de
Musset, was himself a man of letters, and at the same time deeply attached
to his younger brother; and the family, though after the death of the father
their means were not great, constantly supplied Alfred with a home. He
was, fortunately or unfortunately, thrown, when quite a boy, into the society
which Gautier will be remembered are, in miscellaneous prose, a
remarkable series of studies on curious figures, chiefly of the seventeenth
century, called Les Grotesques, and a companion series on the partakers in
the movement of 1830, besides his descriptive books. In novel writing there
must be mentioned an unsurpassed collection of short tales (the best of
which is La Morte Amoureuse); Le Roman de la Momie, a clever tour de
force reviving ancient Egyptian life; and, lastly, Le Capitaine Fracasse, a
novel in the manner of Dumas, but fashioned in his own inimitable style. In
verse, he wrote, besides work already mentioned, the Comédie de la Mort,
some miscellaneous poems of later date, and, finally, the Émaux et Camées.
In prose he is, as has been said, the greatest recent master of the ornate style
of French, as Mérimée is the greatest master of the simple style. His
mastery over mere language is accompanied by a very fine sense of the total
form of his tales, so that the already-mentioned Morte Amoureuse is one of
the unsurpassable things of literature. In general writing he has a singular
faculty of embalming the most trivial details in the amber of his style, so
that his articles can be read again and again for the mere beauty of them. As
a poet he is specially noteworthy for the same command of form joined to
the same exquisite perfection of language. In Émaux et Camées especially it
is almost impossible to find a flaw; language, metre, arrangement, are all
complete and perfect, and this formal completeness is further informed by
abundant poetic suggestion. The chief fault, if it be a fault, which can be
found with Gautier is, that he set himself too deliberately against the
tendencies of his age, and excluded too rigidly everything but purely
æsthetic subjects of interest from his contemplation, and from the range of
his literary energy.
The most happily-gifted, save one, of the great men of
1830, the weakest beyond comparison in will, in Alfred de Musset.
temperament, in faculty of improving his natural gifts,
has yet to be mentioned. Alfred de Musset was born at Paris in 1810. His
father held a government place of some value; his elder brother, M. Paul de
Musset, was himself a man of letters, and at the same time deeply attached
to his younger brother; and the family, though after the death of the father
their means were not great, constantly supplied Alfred with a home. He
was, fortunately or unfortunately, thrown, when quite a boy, into the society
Page 552
of Victor Hugo, the cénacle or inner clique of the Romantic movement.
When only nineteen Musset published a volume of poetry, which showed in
him a poetic talent inferior only to Hugo's own, and, indeed, not so much
inferior as different. These Contes d'Espagne et d'Italie were quickly
followed up by a volume entitled Un Spectacle dans un Fauteuil, and
Musset became famous. Unfortunately for him, he became intimate with
George Sand, and the result was a journey to Italy, from which he returned
equally broken in health and in heart. His temperament was of almost ultra-
poetic excitability, and he had a positively morbid incapacity for
undertaking any useful employment, whether it was in itself congenial or
no. Thus he refused a well-paid and agreeable position in the French
embassy at Madrid; and though he had written admirable prose tales for his
own pleasure, he was either unwilling or unable to write them under a
regular commission. As he grew older he unfortunately became addicted to
the constant and excessive use of stimulants. He was elected to the
Academy in 1852, but produced little of value thereafter, and died in 1857.
Alfred de Musset's work, notwithstanding his comparatively short life and
his want of regular energy, is not inconsiderable in amount, and in quality is
of the highest merit and interest. His poems, its most important item, are
deficient in strictly formal merit. He is a very careless versifier and rhymer,
and his choice of language is far from exquisite. He has, however, a
wonderful note of genuine passion, somewhat of the Byronic kind, but quite
independent in species, and entirely free from the falsetto which spoils so
much of Byron's work. Besides this his lyrics are, in what may be called
'song-quality,' scarcely to be surpassed. Les Nuits, a series of meditative
poems in the form of dialogues between the poet and his muse on nights in
the month of May, August, October, and December; Rolla, an extravagant
but powerful tale of the maladie du siècle; the addresses to Lamartine and
to Malibran, and a few more poems, yield to no work of our time in
genuine, original, and passionate music. Next to his poems in subject,
though not in merit, may be ranked the prose Confession d'un Enfant du
Siècle. His prose tales, Emmeline, Frédéric et Bernerette, etc., are of great
merit, but inferior relatively to his poems, and to his remarkable dramas.
These latter are among the most original work of the century. It was some
time before they commended themselves to audiences in France, but they
have long won their true position. They are of very various kinds. Some,
and perhaps the happiest, are of the class called, in French, proverbes,
When only nineteen Musset published a volume of poetry, which showed in
him a poetic talent inferior only to Hugo's own, and, indeed, not so much
inferior as different. These Contes d'Espagne et d'Italie were quickly
followed up by a volume entitled Un Spectacle dans un Fauteuil, and
Musset became famous. Unfortunately for him, he became intimate with
George Sand, and the result was a journey to Italy, from which he returned
equally broken in health and in heart. His temperament was of almost ultra-
poetic excitability, and he had a positively morbid incapacity for
undertaking any useful employment, whether it was in itself congenial or
no. Thus he refused a well-paid and agreeable position in the French
embassy at Madrid; and though he had written admirable prose tales for his
own pleasure, he was either unwilling or unable to write them under a
regular commission. As he grew older he unfortunately became addicted to
the constant and excessive use of stimulants. He was elected to the
Academy in 1852, but produced little of value thereafter, and died in 1857.
Alfred de Musset's work, notwithstanding his comparatively short life and
his want of regular energy, is not inconsiderable in amount, and in quality is
of the highest merit and interest. His poems, its most important item, are
deficient in strictly formal merit. He is a very careless versifier and rhymer,
and his choice of language is far from exquisite. He has, however, a
wonderful note of genuine passion, somewhat of the Byronic kind, but quite
independent in species, and entirely free from the falsetto which spoils so
much of Byron's work. Besides this his lyrics are, in what may be called
'song-quality,' scarcely to be surpassed. Les Nuits, a series of meditative
poems in the form of dialogues between the poet and his muse on nights in
the month of May, August, October, and December; Rolla, an extravagant
but powerful tale of the maladie du siècle; the addresses to Lamartine and
to Malibran, and a few more poems, yield to no work of our time in
genuine, original, and passionate music. Next to his poems in subject,
though not in merit, may be ranked the prose Confession d'un Enfant du
Siècle. His prose tales, Emmeline, Frédéric et Bernerette, etc., are of great
merit, but inferior relatively to his poems, and to his remarkable dramas.
These latter are among the most original work of the century. It was some
time before they commended themselves to audiences in France, but they
have long won their true position. They are of very various kinds. Some,
and perhaps the happiest, are of the class called, in French, proverbes,
Page 553
dramatic illustrations, that is to say, of some common saying, Il ne faut
jurer de rien: Il faut qu'une porte soit ouverte ou fermée, etc. The grace and
delicacy of these, the ingenuity with which the story is adapted to the moral,
the abundant wit (for wit is one of Musset's most prominent characteristics)
which illustrates and pervades them, make them unique in literature. Others,
such as Les Caprices de Marianne, Le Chandelier, are regular comedies,
admitting, as against the classical tradition, that a comedy may end ill; and
others, as Lorenzaccio, nearly attain to the dignity of the historic play. The
dramatic instinct in Musset was very strong, and may, perhaps, be said to
have exceeded in volume, originality, and variety, if not in intensity, the
purely poetical. Altogether, Musset is the most remarkable instance in
French literature, and one of the most remarkable in the literature of
Europe, of merely natural genius, hardly at all developed by study, and not
assisted in the least by critical power and a strong will. What, perhaps,
distinguished him most is the singular conjunction of the most fervid
passion and the most touching lyrical 'cry' with the finest wit, and with
unusual dramatic ability.
These eight sum up whatever is greatest and most
influential in the generation of 1830. Victor Hugo gave Influence of the
direction and leading to the movement, identified it with Romantic Leaders.
his own masterly and commanding genius, furnished it, at brief intervals,
with consummate examples. Sainte-Beuve supplied it with the necessary
basis of an immense comparative erudition, by which he was enabled to
disengage and to exhibit to those who run the true principles of literary
criticism, and to point the younger generation to the sources of a richer
vocabulary, a more flexible and highly-coloured style, a more cosmopolitan
appreciation. Alexandre Dumas, with less strictly literary virtue than any
other of the group, occupied the important vantage grounds of the theatre
and the lending library in the Romantic interest. Balzac, equalling the others
in the range of his field, added the special example of a minute
psychological analysis, and of the most untiring labour. George Sand taught
the secret of utilising to the utmost the passing currents of personal and
popular sentiment and thought. Mérimée, the master least followed,
supplied, in the first place, the necessary warning against a too enthusiastic
following of school models; and, in the second, himself held up a model of
prose style of severity and exactness equal to the finest examples of the
jurer de rien: Il faut qu'une porte soit ouverte ou fermée, etc. The grace and
delicacy of these, the ingenuity with which the story is adapted to the moral,
the abundant wit (for wit is one of Musset's most prominent characteristics)
which illustrates and pervades them, make them unique in literature. Others,
such as Les Caprices de Marianne, Le Chandelier, are regular comedies,
admitting, as against the classical tradition, that a comedy may end ill; and
others, as Lorenzaccio, nearly attain to the dignity of the historic play. The
dramatic instinct in Musset was very strong, and may, perhaps, be said to
have exceeded in volume, originality, and variety, if not in intensity, the
purely poetical. Altogether, Musset is the most remarkable instance in
French literature, and one of the most remarkable in the literature of
Europe, of merely natural genius, hardly at all developed by study, and not
assisted in the least by critical power and a strong will. What, perhaps,
distinguished him most is the singular conjunction of the most fervid
passion and the most touching lyrical 'cry' with the finest wit, and with
unusual dramatic ability.
These eight sum up whatever is greatest and most
influential in the generation of 1830. Victor Hugo gave Influence of the
direction and leading to the movement, identified it with Romantic Leaders.
his own masterly and commanding genius, furnished it, at brief intervals,
with consummate examples. Sainte-Beuve supplied it with the necessary
basis of an immense comparative erudition, by which he was enabled to
disengage and to exhibit to those who run the true principles of literary
criticism, and to point the younger generation to the sources of a richer
vocabulary, a more flexible and highly-coloured style, a more cosmopolitan
appreciation. Alexandre Dumas, with less strictly literary virtue than any
other of the group, occupied the important vantage grounds of the theatre
and the lending library in the Romantic interest. Balzac, equalling the others
in the range of his field, added the special example of a minute
psychological analysis, and of the most untiring labour. George Sand taught
the secret of utilising to the utmost the passing currents of personal and
popular sentiment and thought. Mérimée, the master least followed,
supplied, in the first place, the necessary warning against a too enthusiastic
following of school models; and, in the second, himself held up a model of
prose style of severity and exactness equal to the finest examples of the
Page 554
classical school, yet possessing to the full the romantic merits of versatile
adaptability, of glowing colour, of direct and fearless phrase. Gautier
exhibited, on the one hand, a model of absolute perfection in formal poetry,
the workmanship of a gem or a Greek vase; on the other, the model of a
prose style so flexible as to serve the most ordinary purposes, so richly
equipped as to be equal to any emergency, and yet, in its most elaborate
condition, worthy to rank with his own verse. Lastly, again as an outsider (a
position which he shares in the group with Mérimée, though in very
different fashion), Musset brought the most natural and unaffected tears and
laughter by turns, to correct the too scholastic and literary character of the
movement, and to show how the most perfectly artistic effect could be
produced with the least apparatus of formal study or preparation.
Under the influence partly of these men, and directly exercised by them,
partly of the general movement of which they were the leaders and
exponents, the literature of France has developed itself for the rest of the
century. It remains to give a brief sketch of its principal ornaments during
that time. Many names, whose work is intrinsically of all but the highest
interest and merit, will have to be rapidly dispatched, but their chief
achievements and their significance in the general march can at least be
indicated.
At the head of the poets of this minor band has to be
mentioned Millevoye, who might, perhaps with equal or Minor Poets of
greater appropriateness, have found a place in the 1830.
preceding book. He is chiefly remarkable as the author of one charming
piece of sentimental verse, La Chute des Feuilles; and as the occasion of an
immortal criticism of Sainte-Beuve's, 'Il se trouve dans les trois quarts des
hommes un poète qui meurt jeune tandis que l'homme survit.' The
peculiarity of Millevoye and his happiness was that he did not survive the
death of the poet in him, but died at the age of thirty-four. Except the piece
just mentioned, he wrote little of value, and his total work is not large. But
he may be described as a simpler, a somewhat less harmonious, but a less
tautologous Lamartine, to whom the gods were kind in allowing him to die
young. A curious contrast to Millevoye is furnished by his contemporary,
Ulric Guttinguer. Guttinguer was born in 1785, and, like Nodier, he joined
himself frankly to the Romantic movement, and was looked up to as a
senior by its more active promoters. Like Millevoye, he has to rest his fame
adaptability, of glowing colour, of direct and fearless phrase. Gautier
exhibited, on the one hand, a model of absolute perfection in formal poetry,
the workmanship of a gem or a Greek vase; on the other, the model of a
prose style so flexible as to serve the most ordinary purposes, so richly
equipped as to be equal to any emergency, and yet, in its most elaborate
condition, worthy to rank with his own verse. Lastly, again as an outsider (a
position which he shares in the group with Mérimée, though in very
different fashion), Musset brought the most natural and unaffected tears and
laughter by turns, to correct the too scholastic and literary character of the
movement, and to show how the most perfectly artistic effect could be
produced with the least apparatus of formal study or preparation.
Under the influence partly of these men, and directly exercised by them,
partly of the general movement of which they were the leaders and
exponents, the literature of France has developed itself for the rest of the
century. It remains to give a brief sketch of its principal ornaments during
that time. Many names, whose work is intrinsically of all but the highest
interest and merit, will have to be rapidly dispatched, but their chief
achievements and their significance in the general march can at least be
indicated.
At the head of the poets of this minor band has to be
mentioned Millevoye, who might, perhaps with equal or Minor Poets of
greater appropriateness, have found a place in the 1830.
preceding book. He is chiefly remarkable as the author of one charming
piece of sentimental verse, La Chute des Feuilles; and as the occasion of an
immortal criticism of Sainte-Beuve's, 'Il se trouve dans les trois quarts des
hommes un poète qui meurt jeune tandis que l'homme survit.' The
peculiarity of Millevoye and his happiness was that he did not survive the
death of the poet in him, but died at the age of thirty-four. Except the piece
just mentioned, he wrote little of value, and his total work is not large. But
he may be described as a simpler, a somewhat less harmonious, but a less
tautologous Lamartine, to whom the gods were kind in allowing him to die
young. A curious contrast to Millevoye is furnished by his contemporary,
Ulric Guttinguer. Guttinguer was born in 1785, and, like Nodier, he joined
himself frankly to the Romantic movement, and was looked up to as a
senior by its more active promoters. Like Millevoye, he has to rest his fame
Page 555
almost entirely on one piece, the verses beginning, 'Ils ont dit: l'amour passe
et sa flamme est rapide;' but, unlike him, he lived to a great age, and was a
tolerably fertile producer. By the side of these two poets ranks Marceline
Desbordes-Valmore, who shares, with Louise Labé and Marie de France,
the first rank among the poetesses of her country. Madame Desbordes-
Valmore was born in 1787, and died in 1859. Her first volume of poems
was published in 1819, and, as in all the verse of this time, the note of
sentiment dominates. She continued to publish volumes at intervals until
1843, and another was added after her death. Great sweetness and pathos,
with a total absence of affectation, distinguish her work. Perhaps her best
piece is the charming song, in a kind of irregular rondeau form, S'il avait su.
Jean Polonius, whose real name was Labenski, was a Russian, who
contributed frequently to the Annales Romantiques, and subsequently
published two volumes of French poetry. Emile and Antoni Deschamps
were the translators of the Romantic movement. Antoni accomplished a
complete translation of Dante, Emile translated from English, German, and
Italian poets indifferently. They also published original poems together, and
separately. Madame Tastu was also a translator, or rather a paraphraser, and
an author of original poems of a sentimental kind. Lastly, Jean Reboul, a
native of Nîmes, and born in a humble situation, deserves a place among
these.
Three poets deserving of all but the first rank, and belonging to the
generation of 1830 itself, require each a somewhat longer notice.
Alfred de Vigny was born at Loches, on the 27th of
March, 1799. He was a man of rank, and his marriage in Alfred de Vigny.
1826 with an Englishwoman of wealth gave him
independence. He left the army, in which he had served for some years, in
1828, and spent the rest of his life, until his death in 1864, in literary ease.
He had been for some time a member of the Academy. His poetical career
was peculiar. Between 1821 and 1829 he produced a small number of
poems of the most exquisite finish, which at once attained the popularity
they deserved, and were repeatedly reprinted. But for thirty-five years he
published hardly anything else in verse, his Poèmes Philosophiques not
appearing (at least as a volume) until after his death. Yet he was by no
means idle. He had written and published in 1826 the prose romance of
Cinq Mars, and he followed this up, though at considerable intervals, with
et sa flamme est rapide;' but, unlike him, he lived to a great age, and was a
tolerably fertile producer. By the side of these two poets ranks Marceline
Desbordes-Valmore, who shares, with Louise Labé and Marie de France,
the first rank among the poetesses of her country. Madame Desbordes-
Valmore was born in 1787, and died in 1859. Her first volume of poems
was published in 1819, and, as in all the verse of this time, the note of
sentiment dominates. She continued to publish volumes at intervals until
1843, and another was added after her death. Great sweetness and pathos,
with a total absence of affectation, distinguish her work. Perhaps her best
piece is the charming song, in a kind of irregular rondeau form, S'il avait su.
Jean Polonius, whose real name was Labenski, was a Russian, who
contributed frequently to the Annales Romantiques, and subsequently
published two volumes of French poetry. Emile and Antoni Deschamps
were the translators of the Romantic movement. Antoni accomplished a
complete translation of Dante, Emile translated from English, German, and
Italian poets indifferently. They also published original poems together, and
separately. Madame Tastu was also a translator, or rather a paraphraser, and
an author of original poems of a sentimental kind. Lastly, Jean Reboul, a
native of Nîmes, and born in a humble situation, deserves a place among
these.
Three poets deserving of all but the first rank, and belonging to the
generation of 1830 itself, require each a somewhat longer notice.
Alfred de Vigny was born at Loches, on the 27th of
March, 1799. He was a man of rank, and his marriage in Alfred de Vigny.
1826 with an Englishwoman of wealth gave him
independence. He left the army, in which he had served for some years, in
1828, and spent the rest of his life, until his death in 1864, in literary ease.
He had been for some time a member of the Academy. His poetical career
was peculiar. Between 1821 and 1829 he produced a small number of
poems of the most exquisite finish, which at once attained the popularity
they deserved, and were repeatedly reprinted. But for thirty-five years he
published hardly anything else in verse, his Poèmes Philosophiques not
appearing (at least as a volume) until after his death. Yet he was by no
means idle. He had written and published in 1826 the prose romance of
Cinq Mars, and he followed this up, though at considerable intervals, with
Page 556
others, as well as with dramas, of which Chatterton is the best and best
known. He also translated Othello and The Merchant of Venice. Alfred de
Vigny may perhaps be best described as a link between André Chénier and
the Romantic poets. He is not much of a lyrist, his best and most famous
poems (Moïse, Eloa, Dolorida) being in Alexandrines, and the general form
of his verse inclines to that of the eighteenth-century elegy, while it has
much of the classical (not pseudo-classical) proportion and grace of
Chénier. But his language, and in part his versification, are romantic,
though quieter in style than those of most of his companions, whom it must
be remembered he for the most part forestalled. In Moïse much of what has
been called Victor Hugo's 'science of names' is anticipated, as well as his
large manner of landscape and declamation. Eloa suggests rather
Lamartine, but a Lamartine with his weakness replaced by strength, while
Dolorida has a strong flavour of Musset. The remarkable thing is that in
each case the peculiarities of the poet to whom Vigny has been compared
were not fully developed until after he wrote, and that therefore he has the
merit of originality. It is probable, however, that, exquisite as his poetical
power was, it lacked range, and that he, having the rare faculty of
discerning this, designedly limited his production. The best of the
posthumous poems already mentioned are fully worthy of his earlier ones,
but they display no new faculty.
If Alfred de Vigny is a poet of few books, Auguste
Barbier is a poet of one. Born in 1805, Barbier never Auguste Barbier.
formed part of the Romantic circle, properly so called,
but he shared to the full its inspiring influence. He began by an historical
novel of no great merit, but the revolution of 1830 served as the occasion of
his Iambes, a series of extraordinarily brilliant and vigorous satires, both
political and social. The most famous of all these is La Curée, a description
of the ignoble scramble for place and profit under the new Orleanist
government. No satirical work in modern days has had greater success, and
few have deserved it more; the weight and polish of the verse being
altogether admirable. Satire is, however, a vein which it is very difficult to
work for any length of time with any novelty, as may be seen sufficiently
from the fact that the works of all the best satirists, ancient and modern, are
contained in a very small compass. Barbier endeavoured to secure the
necessary variety of subjects by going to Italy in Il Pianto, and to England
known. He also translated Othello and The Merchant of Venice. Alfred de
Vigny may perhaps be best described as a link between André Chénier and
the Romantic poets. He is not much of a lyrist, his best and most famous
poems (Moïse, Eloa, Dolorida) being in Alexandrines, and the general form
of his verse inclines to that of the eighteenth-century elegy, while it has
much of the classical (not pseudo-classical) proportion and grace of
Chénier. But his language, and in part his versification, are romantic,
though quieter in style than those of most of his companions, whom it must
be remembered he for the most part forestalled. In Moïse much of what has
been called Victor Hugo's 'science of names' is anticipated, as well as his
large manner of landscape and declamation. Eloa suggests rather
Lamartine, but a Lamartine with his weakness replaced by strength, while
Dolorida has a strong flavour of Musset. The remarkable thing is that in
each case the peculiarities of the poet to whom Vigny has been compared
were not fully developed until after he wrote, and that therefore he has the
merit of originality. It is probable, however, that, exquisite as his poetical
power was, it lacked range, and that he, having the rare faculty of
discerning this, designedly limited his production. The best of the
posthumous poems already mentioned are fully worthy of his earlier ones,
but they display no new faculty.
If Alfred de Vigny is a poet of few books, Auguste
Barbier is a poet of one. Born in 1805, Barbier never Auguste Barbier.
formed part of the Romantic circle, properly so called,
but he shared to the full its inspiring influence. He began by an historical
novel of no great merit, but the revolution of 1830 served as the occasion of
his Iambes, a series of extraordinarily brilliant and vigorous satires, both
political and social. The most famous of all these is La Curée, a description
of the ignoble scramble for place and profit under the new Orleanist
government. No satirical work in modern days has had greater success, and
few have deserved it more; the weight and polish of the verse being
altogether admirable. Satire is, however, a vein which it is very difficult to
work for any length of time with any novelty, as may be seen sufficiently
from the fact that the works of all the best satirists, ancient and modern, are
contained in a very small compass. Barbier endeavoured to secure the
necessary variety of subjects by going to Italy in Il Pianto, and to England
Page 557
in Lazare, but without success, though both contain many examples of the
nervous and splendid verse in which he excels. During the last forty years
of his life he wrote much, and he was elected to the Academy in 1869, but
Les Iambes will remain his title to fame.
A name far less generally known, but deserving of being
known very well indeed, is that of Gérard de Nerval, or, Gérard de Nerval.
as his right appellation was, Gérard Labrunie. He was
born in 1805, and was one of the most distinguished pupils of the celebrated
Lycée Charlemagne, where he made the acquaintance of Théophile Gautier.
Gérard (as he is most generally called) was a man of delicate and far-
ranging genius, afflicted with the peculiar malady which weighs on some
such men, and which may perhaps be described as an infirmity of will. He
was not idle, and there was no reason why he should not be prosperous. At
an early age he translated Faust, to the admiration of Goethe. His Travels in
the East were widely read, and every newspaper in Paris was glad of his co-
operation; yet he was frequently in distress, and died in a horrible and
mysterious manner, either by his own hand or murdered by night prowlers.
He has been more than once compared to Poe, whom, however, he excelled
both in amiability of temperament and in literary knowledge. But the two
have been rightly selected by an excellent judge as being, in company with
a living English poet, the chief masters of the poetry which 'lies on the
further side between verse and music.' Most of Gérard's work is in prose,
taking the form of fantastic but exquisite short tales entitled Les Filles de
Feu, La Bohême Galante, etc. His verse, at least the characteristic part of it,
is not bulky; it consists partly of folksongs slightly modernised, partly of
sonnets, partly of miscellaneous poems. But, if the expression 'prose poetry'
be ever allowable, which has been doubted, it is seldom more applicable
than to much of Gérard de Nerval's work, both in his description of his
travels and in avowed fiction.
Some minor names remain to be mentioned. Méry, one of the most fertile
authors of the century, was a writer of verse as well as of prose, and
displayed much the same talent of brilliant improvisation in each capacity.
Auguste Brizeux, a Breton by birth, made himself remarkable by idyllic
poetry (Marie, La Fleur d'Or) chiefly dealing with the scenery and figures
of his native province. Amédée Pommier is a fertile and not inelegant verse
writer, of no very marked characteristics. Charles Dovalle, who was shot in
nervous and splendid verse in which he excels. During the last forty years
of his life he wrote much, and he was elected to the Academy in 1869, but
Les Iambes will remain his title to fame.
A name far less generally known, but deserving of being
known very well indeed, is that of Gérard de Nerval, or, Gérard de Nerval.
as his right appellation was, Gérard Labrunie. He was
born in 1805, and was one of the most distinguished pupils of the celebrated
Lycée Charlemagne, where he made the acquaintance of Théophile Gautier.
Gérard (as he is most generally called) was a man of delicate and far-
ranging genius, afflicted with the peculiar malady which weighs on some
such men, and which may perhaps be described as an infirmity of will. He
was not idle, and there was no reason why he should not be prosperous. At
an early age he translated Faust, to the admiration of Goethe. His Travels in
the East were widely read, and every newspaper in Paris was glad of his co-
operation; yet he was frequently in distress, and died in a horrible and
mysterious manner, either by his own hand or murdered by night prowlers.
He has been more than once compared to Poe, whom, however, he excelled
both in amiability of temperament and in literary knowledge. But the two
have been rightly selected by an excellent judge as being, in company with
a living English poet, the chief masters of the poetry which 'lies on the
further side between verse and music.' Most of Gérard's work is in prose,
taking the form of fantastic but exquisite short tales entitled Les Filles de
Feu, La Bohême Galante, etc. His verse, at least the characteristic part of it,
is not bulky; it consists partly of folksongs slightly modernised, partly of
sonnets, partly of miscellaneous poems. But, if the expression 'prose poetry'
be ever allowable, which has been doubted, it is seldom more applicable
than to much of Gérard de Nerval's work, both in his description of his
travels and in avowed fiction.
Some minor names remain to be mentioned. Méry, one of the most fertile
authors of the century, was a writer of verse as well as of prose, and
displayed much the same talent of brilliant improvisation in each capacity.
Auguste Brizeux, a Breton by birth, made himself remarkable by idyllic
poetry (Marie, La Fleur d'Or) chiefly dealing with the scenery and figures
of his native province. Amédée Pommier is a fertile and not inelegant verse
writer, of no very marked characteristics. Charles Dovalle, who was shot in
Page 558
one of the miserable duels between journalists so common in France, at the
age of twenty-two, would probably have done remarkable work had he
lived. Hégésippe Moreau, to whom a life but very little longer was
vouchsafed, devoted himself partly to bacchanalian and satirical work, for
which he had not the slightest genius, but produced also some poems of
country life, which rank among the sweetest and most natural of the
century. Much of his work is little more than a corrupt following of
Béranger. In the same way the imitation of Lamartine was not fortunate for
Victor de Laprade (Psyché, Les Symphonies, Les Voix de Silence). This
imitation is not so much in subject (for M. de Laprade was a philosopher
rather than a sentimentalist) as in manner and versification. His verse is also
much more strongly impregnated than Lamartine's with classical culture.
With due allowance for difference of dates and countries, there is a
considerable resemblance between Laprade and Southey. Both had the same
accomplishment of style, the same unquestioning submission to the dogmas
of Christianity, the same width of literary information. It is unfortunate for
France that Laprade was somewhat deficient in humour, a rare growth on
her soil at all times.
All these names are more or less widely known, but
there is a class of 'oubliés et dédaignés,' as one of their Curiosités
Romantiques.
most faithful biographers has called them, who belong to
the movement of 1830, and whose numbers are
probably, while their merit is certainly, greater than is Pétrus Borel.
the case at any other literary epoch. Few of them can be
mentioned here, but those few are worthy of mention, Louis Bertrand.
and it may perhaps be said that the native vigour of most
of them, though warped and distorted for the most part by oddities of
temperament or the unkindness of fortune, equals, if it does not surpass, that
of many of their more fortunate brethren. The first of these is Pétrus Borel,
one of the strangest figures in the history of literature. Very little is known
of his life, which was spent partly at Paris and partly in Algeria. He was
perhaps the most extravagant of all the Romantics, surnaming himself 'Le
Lycanthrope,' and identifying himself with the eccentricities of the
Bousingots, a clique of political literary men who for a short time made
themselves conspicuous after 1830. Borel wrote partly in verse and partly in
prose. His most considerable exploit in the former was a strange preface in
age of twenty-two, would probably have done remarkable work had he
lived. Hégésippe Moreau, to whom a life but very little longer was
vouchsafed, devoted himself partly to bacchanalian and satirical work, for
which he had not the slightest genius, but produced also some poems of
country life, which rank among the sweetest and most natural of the
century. Much of his work is little more than a corrupt following of
Béranger. In the same way the imitation of Lamartine was not fortunate for
Victor de Laprade (Psyché, Les Symphonies, Les Voix de Silence). This
imitation is not so much in subject (for M. de Laprade was a philosopher
rather than a sentimentalist) as in manner and versification. His verse is also
much more strongly impregnated than Lamartine's with classical culture.
With due allowance for difference of dates and countries, there is a
considerable resemblance between Laprade and Southey. Both had the same
accomplishment of style, the same unquestioning submission to the dogmas
of Christianity, the same width of literary information. It is unfortunate for
France that Laprade was somewhat deficient in humour, a rare growth on
her soil at all times.
All these names are more or less widely known, but
there is a class of 'oubliés et dédaignés,' as one of their Curiosités
Romantiques.
most faithful biographers has called them, who belong to
the movement of 1830, and whose numbers are
probably, while their merit is certainly, greater than is Pétrus Borel.
the case at any other literary epoch. Few of them can be
mentioned here, but those few are worthy of mention, Louis Bertrand.
and it may perhaps be said that the native vigour of most
of them, though warped and distorted for the most part by oddities of
temperament or the unkindness of fortune, equals, if it does not surpass, that
of many of their more fortunate brethren. The first of these is Pétrus Borel,
one of the strangest figures in the history of literature. Very little is known
of his life, which was spent partly at Paris and partly in Algeria. He was
perhaps the most extravagant of all the Romantics, surnaming himself 'Le
Lycanthrope,' and identifying himself with the eccentricities of the
Bousingots, a clique of political literary men who for a short time made
themselves conspicuous after 1830. Borel wrote partly in verse and partly in
prose. His most considerable exploit in the former was a strange preface in
Page 559
verse to his novel of Madame Putiphar; his best work in prose, a series of
wild but powerful stories entitled Champavert. His talent altogether lacked
measure and criticism, but it is undeniable. Auguste Fontaney was born in
1803 and died in 1837, having, like many of the literary men of his day,
served for a short time in diplomacy. He was a frequent contributor to the
early Romantic periodicals, and somewhat later to the Revue des Deux-
Mondes. His work is very unequal, but at its best it is saturated with the true
spirit of poetry. Félix Arvers, like our own Blanco White, has obtained his
place in literary history by a single sonnet, one of the most beautiful ever
written. Auguste de Chatillon was both poet and painter; his chief title to
remembrance in the former capacity being a volume of cheerful verse
entitled A l'Auberge de la Grand' Pinte. Napoléon Peyrat, who, after the
fashion of those times (in which Auguste Maquet, a fertile novelist, and a
journalist, and a collaborateur of Alexandre Dumas, called himself
Augustus Mackeat, and Théophile Dondey anagrammatised his surname
into O'Neddy), dubbed himself Napol le Pyrénéen, survives, and justly, in
virtue of a single short poem on Roland, possessed of extraordinary verve
and spirit. Last of all has to be mentioned Louis Bertrand, a poet possessed
of the rarest faculty, but unfortunately doomed to misfortune and premature
death. Born at Ceva in Piedmont, in 1807, and brought up at Dijon, he came
to Paris, found there but scanty encouragement, and died in a hospital in
1841. His only work of any importance, Gaspard de la Nuit, a series of
prose ballads arranged in verses something like those of the English
translation of the Bible, and testifying to the most delicate sense of rhythm,
and the most exquisite power of poetical suggestion, did not appear until
after his death. He and Borel perhaps only of the names contained in this
paragraph represent individual and solid talent: the others are chiefly
noteworthy as instances of the extraordinary stimulating force of the time
on minds which in other days would probably have remained indocile to
poetry, or at least unproductive of it.
Three distinct stages are perceptible in French poetry
since the date of the Romantic movement, and we have Second Group of
now exhausted the remarkable names belonging to the Romantic Poets.
first. Another opens with those poets who, being born in or about 1820,
came to years of discretion in time to see the first force of the movement
spent, and found the necessity of striking out something of a new way for
wild but powerful stories entitled Champavert. His talent altogether lacked
measure and criticism, but it is undeniable. Auguste Fontaney was born in
1803 and died in 1837, having, like many of the literary men of his day,
served for a short time in diplomacy. He was a frequent contributor to the
early Romantic periodicals, and somewhat later to the Revue des Deux-
Mondes. His work is very unequal, but at its best it is saturated with the true
spirit of poetry. Félix Arvers, like our own Blanco White, has obtained his
place in literary history by a single sonnet, one of the most beautiful ever
written. Auguste de Chatillon was both poet and painter; his chief title to
remembrance in the former capacity being a volume of cheerful verse
entitled A l'Auberge de la Grand' Pinte. Napoléon Peyrat, who, after the
fashion of those times (in which Auguste Maquet, a fertile novelist, and a
journalist, and a collaborateur of Alexandre Dumas, called himself
Augustus Mackeat, and Théophile Dondey anagrammatised his surname
into O'Neddy), dubbed himself Napol le Pyrénéen, survives, and justly, in
virtue of a single short poem on Roland, possessed of extraordinary verve
and spirit. Last of all has to be mentioned Louis Bertrand, a poet possessed
of the rarest faculty, but unfortunately doomed to misfortune and premature
death. Born at Ceva in Piedmont, in 1807, and brought up at Dijon, he came
to Paris, found there but scanty encouragement, and died in a hospital in
1841. His only work of any importance, Gaspard de la Nuit, a series of
prose ballads arranged in verses something like those of the English
translation of the Bible, and testifying to the most delicate sense of rhythm,
and the most exquisite power of poetical suggestion, did not appear until
after his death. He and Borel perhaps only of the names contained in this
paragraph represent individual and solid talent: the others are chiefly
noteworthy as instances of the extraordinary stimulating force of the time
on minds which in other days would probably have remained indocile to
poetry, or at least unproductive of it.
Three distinct stages are perceptible in French poetry
since the date of the Romantic movement, and we have Second Group of
now exhausted the remarkable names belonging to the Romantic Poets.
first. Another opens with those poets who, being born in or about 1820,
came to years of discretion in time to see the first force of the movement
spent, and found the necessity of striking out something of a new way for
Page 560
themselves. Of this group three names stand pre-eminently forward, those
of Baudelaire, Banville, and Leconte de Lisle, while some others may be
mentioned beside them.
Théodore de Banville was born in 1820, of a good
family, his father being an officer in the navy. He began Théodore de
to write very early with the Cariatides, and continued Banville.
for fifty years to be active in prose and poetry. M. de Banville displayed at
once a remarkable mastery of rhyme and rhythm, and it is in the exhibition
of this that he chiefly excelled. Under his auspices not merely the graceful
metrical systems of the Pléiade, but the older forms of the mediaeval poets,
Ballades, Rondeaux, Triolets, etc., were once more brought into fashion.
But M. de Banville was by no means only a clever versifier. His serious
poetry (Cariatides, Stalactites, Odelettes, Les Exilé's, Trente-six Ballades)
is full of poetical language and sentiment, his lighter verse (Occidentales,
Odes Funambulesques) is charming, his prose is excellent, and he was no
mean hand at drama (Gringoire).
As M. de Banville sought for poetical novelty in an
elaborate manipulation of the formal part of poetry, so Leconte de Lisle.
M. Leconte de Lisle has sought it in a wide range of
subject. He is a great translator of Greek verse. But in his original poems
(Poésies Antiques, Poésies Barbares, Poëmes et Poésies) he has gone not
merely to the classics but to the East and to mediaeval times for his
inspiration. A tendency to load his verse with exotic names in unusual forms
(he was one of the first Frenchmen to adopt the fashion of spelling Greek
names with a strict transliteration) has brought, not perhaps altogether
undeservedly, the charge of affectation on M. Leconte de Lisle. But he is a
poet of no small power, not merely in outlandish subjects such as Le
Massacre de Mona, Le Sommeil du Condor, Le Runoia, etc., but in much
simpler work, such as the beautiful Requies.
Charles Baudelaire had a more original talent than either
of these. Although a very careful writer, he is not Charles Baudelaire.
studious of bizarre rhythm, nor are his subjects for the
most part outlandish. He chose, however, to illustrate a peculiar form of
poetical melancholy by dwelling on subjects many of which would have
been better left alone, while others were treated in a manner unsuited to the
of Baudelaire, Banville, and Leconte de Lisle, while some others may be
mentioned beside them.
Théodore de Banville was born in 1820, of a good
family, his father being an officer in the navy. He began Théodore de
to write very early with the Cariatides, and continued Banville.
for fifty years to be active in prose and poetry. M. de Banville displayed at
once a remarkable mastery of rhyme and rhythm, and it is in the exhibition
of this that he chiefly excelled. Under his auspices not merely the graceful
metrical systems of the Pléiade, but the older forms of the mediaeval poets,
Ballades, Rondeaux, Triolets, etc., were once more brought into fashion.
But M. de Banville was by no means only a clever versifier. His serious
poetry (Cariatides, Stalactites, Odelettes, Les Exilé's, Trente-six Ballades)
is full of poetical language and sentiment, his lighter verse (Occidentales,
Odes Funambulesques) is charming, his prose is excellent, and he was no
mean hand at drama (Gringoire).
As M. de Banville sought for poetical novelty in an
elaborate manipulation of the formal part of poetry, so Leconte de Lisle.
M. Leconte de Lisle has sought it in a wide range of
subject. He is a great translator of Greek verse. But in his original poems
(Poésies Antiques, Poésies Barbares, Poëmes et Poésies) he has gone not
merely to the classics but to the East and to mediaeval times for his
inspiration. A tendency to load his verse with exotic names in unusual forms
(he was one of the first Frenchmen to adopt the fashion of spelling Greek
names with a strict transliteration) has brought, not perhaps altogether
undeservedly, the charge of affectation on M. Leconte de Lisle. But he is a
poet of no small power, not merely in outlandish subjects such as Le
Massacre de Mona, Le Sommeil du Condor, Le Runoia, etc., but in much
simpler work, such as the beautiful Requies.
Charles Baudelaire had a more original talent than either
of these. Although a very careful writer, he is not Charles Baudelaire.
studious of bizarre rhythm, nor are his subjects for the
most part outlandish. He chose, however, to illustrate a peculiar form of
poetical melancholy by dwelling on subjects many of which would have
been better left alone, while others were treated in a manner unsuited to the
Page 561
time. His Fleurs du Mal, therefore, as his chief work is entitled, had to
undergo expurgation before it was allowed to be published, and has never
been popular with the general public. But its best pieces, as well as the best
of some singular Petits Poëmes en Prose, partly inspired by Louis Bertrand,
have extraordinary merit in the way of delicate poetical suggestion and a
lofty spiritualism. Baudelaire was also a very accomplished critic, his point
of view being less exclusively French than that of almost any other French
writer of the same class. He translated Poe and De Quincey.
The minor poets of this second Romantic school may
again be grouped together. Charles Coran, a Minor Poets of the
miscellaneous poet of talent, anticipated the school of SecondGroup.
Romantic
which we shall shortly have to give some notice, that of
the Parnassiens. Joséphin Soulary is remarkable for the Dupont.
extreme beauty of his sonnets, in devoting himself to
which form he anticipated a general tendency of contemporary poets both
English and French. Auguste Vacquerie, better known as a critic, a
dramatist, and a journalist, began as a lyrical and miscellaneous poet, and
achieved some noticeable work. Gustave Le Vavasseur attempted, not
without success, to revive the vigorous tradition of Norman poetry. Pierre
Dupont, better known than any of these, seemed at one time likely to be a
poet of the first rank, but unfortunately wasted his talent in Bohemian
dawdling and disorder. His songs were the delight of the young generation
of 1848, and two of them, Le Chant des Ouvriers and Les Bœufs, are still
most remarkable compositions. Louis Bouilhet (whose best poem is
Melænis) has some resemblance to M. Leconte de Lisle, though he went
still further afield for his subjects. He had no small power, but the defect of
the old descriptive poetry revived in him, and in some of his contemporaries
and followers, the defect necessarily attendant on forgetfulness of the fact
that description by itself, however beautiful it may be, is not poetry. With
these may be mentioned Gustave Nadaud, a song-writer pure and simple,
free from almost any influence of school literature, a true follower of
Béranger, though with much less range, wit, and depth.
Except Dupont and Nadaud, all the poets just mentioned
may be said to belong more or less to the school of The Parnasse.
Gautier—the school, that is to say, which attached
preponderant importance to form in poetry. Towards the middle of the
undergo expurgation before it was allowed to be published, and has never
been popular with the general public. But its best pieces, as well as the best
of some singular Petits Poëmes en Prose, partly inspired by Louis Bertrand,
have extraordinary merit in the way of delicate poetical suggestion and a
lofty spiritualism. Baudelaire was also a very accomplished critic, his point
of view being less exclusively French than that of almost any other French
writer of the same class. He translated Poe and De Quincey.
The minor poets of this second Romantic school may
again be grouped together. Charles Coran, a Minor Poets of the
miscellaneous poet of talent, anticipated the school of SecondGroup.
Romantic
which we shall shortly have to give some notice, that of
the Parnassiens. Joséphin Soulary is remarkable for the Dupont.
extreme beauty of his sonnets, in devoting himself to
which form he anticipated a general tendency of contemporary poets both
English and French. Auguste Vacquerie, better known as a critic, a
dramatist, and a journalist, began as a lyrical and miscellaneous poet, and
achieved some noticeable work. Gustave Le Vavasseur attempted, not
without success, to revive the vigorous tradition of Norman poetry. Pierre
Dupont, better known than any of these, seemed at one time likely to be a
poet of the first rank, but unfortunately wasted his talent in Bohemian
dawdling and disorder. His songs were the delight of the young generation
of 1848, and two of them, Le Chant des Ouvriers and Les Bœufs, are still
most remarkable compositions. Louis Bouilhet (whose best poem is
Melænis) has some resemblance to M. Leconte de Lisle, though he went
still further afield for his subjects. He had no small power, but the defect of
the old descriptive poetry revived in him, and in some of his contemporaries
and followers, the defect necessarily attendant on forgetfulness of the fact
that description by itself, however beautiful it may be, is not poetry. With
these may be mentioned Gustave Nadaud, a song-writer pure and simple,
free from almost any influence of school literature, a true follower of
Béranger, though with much less range, wit, and depth.
Except Dupont and Nadaud, all the poets just mentioned
may be said to belong more or less to the school of The Parnasse.
Gautier—the school, that is to say, which attached
preponderant importance to form in poetry. Towards the middle of the
Page 562
Second Empire a crowd of younger writers, who had adopted this principle
still more unhesitatingly, grew up, and formed what has been known for
some years, partly seriously, partly in derision, as the Parnassien school.
The origin of this term was the issue, in 1866 (as a sort of poetical
manifesto preluding the great Exhibition of the next year), of a collection of
poetry from the pens of a large number of poets, from Théophile Gautier
and Emile Deschamps downwards. This was entitled Le Parnasse
Contemporain, after an old French fashion. Another collection of the same
kind was begun in 1869, interrupted by the war, and continued afterwards;
and a third in 1876: while the Parnassien movement was also represented
in several newspapers, the chief of which was La Renaissance. Another
nickname of the poets of this sect (which, however, included almost all
French writers of verse, even Victor de Laprade being counted in) was les
impassibles, for their presumed devotion to art for art's sake, and their scorn
of didactic, domestic, and sentimental poetry. Their numbers were very
great, and none, save a few, can be mentioned here. Perhaps the chief of the
original Parnassiens were MM. Sully Prudhomme and François Coppée,
the former of whom experienced some reaction and affected what is called
'thoughtful verse,' while M. Coppée, having taken to domestic subjects, is
as popular as any contemporary French poet, and in at least one instance
(Le Luthier de Crémone) has achieved success at the theatre. A poet of great
gifts, the latest of the vagabond school of Villon, was Albert Glatigny, who
lived as a strolling actor, and died young. Many of his poems, but especially
the Ballade des Enfans sans Souci, have singular force and pathos. It would
hardly be fair to mention any other names, because a singular evenness of
talent and general characteristics manifests itself among these poets. All
sacrifice something to the perfection of form, or, to speak more correctly
and critically, most are saved only by the perfection of their form, which is
as a rule far superior to that of English minor poets. Of late years the
Parnasse as a single group has broken up somewhat, and during the last
decade some isolated poets of promise have appeared. M. Maurice Bouchor
recurred to the bacchanalian model for inspiration; M. Paul Deroulède is
tyrtaean and bellicose. Both of these may be said to be representative of
reaction against the Parnasse. The new naturalist school, which has
produced such singular work in prose fiction, is represented in poetry by M.
Richepin and M. Guy de Maupassant. The former, with much unworthy
work, produced in La Mer and elsewhere excellent things. The latter,
still more unhesitatingly, grew up, and formed what has been known for
some years, partly seriously, partly in derision, as the Parnassien school.
The origin of this term was the issue, in 1866 (as a sort of poetical
manifesto preluding the great Exhibition of the next year), of a collection of
poetry from the pens of a large number of poets, from Théophile Gautier
and Emile Deschamps downwards. This was entitled Le Parnasse
Contemporain, after an old French fashion. Another collection of the same
kind was begun in 1869, interrupted by the war, and continued afterwards;
and a third in 1876: while the Parnassien movement was also represented
in several newspapers, the chief of which was La Renaissance. Another
nickname of the poets of this sect (which, however, included almost all
French writers of verse, even Victor de Laprade being counted in) was les
impassibles, for their presumed devotion to art for art's sake, and their scorn
of didactic, domestic, and sentimental poetry. Their numbers were very
great, and none, save a few, can be mentioned here. Perhaps the chief of the
original Parnassiens were MM. Sully Prudhomme and François Coppée,
the former of whom experienced some reaction and affected what is called
'thoughtful verse,' while M. Coppée, having taken to domestic subjects, is
as popular as any contemporary French poet, and in at least one instance
(Le Luthier de Crémone) has achieved success at the theatre. A poet of great
gifts, the latest of the vagabond school of Villon, was Albert Glatigny, who
lived as a strolling actor, and died young. Many of his poems, but especially
the Ballade des Enfans sans Souci, have singular force and pathos. It would
hardly be fair to mention any other names, because a singular evenness of
talent and general characteristics manifests itself among these poets. All
sacrifice something to the perfection of form, or, to speak more correctly
and critically, most are saved only by the perfection of their form, which is
as a rule far superior to that of English minor poets. Of late years the
Parnasse as a single group has broken up somewhat, and during the last
decade some isolated poets of promise have appeared. M. Maurice Bouchor
recurred to the bacchanalian model for inspiration; M. Paul Deroulède is
tyrtaean and bellicose. Both of these may be said to be representative of
reaction against the Parnasse. The new naturalist school, which has
produced such singular work in prose fiction, is represented in poetry by M.
Richepin and M. Guy de Maupassant. The former, with much unworthy
work, produced in La Mer and elsewhere excellent things. The latter,
Page 563
despite an unfortunate licence of subject, showed himself the strongest and
most accomplished versifier who has made his appearance in France for the
last twenty years. But after his first efforts he appeared to abandon himself
almost entirely to prose. M. Paul Verlaine, a poet known from the early days
of the Parnasse, has more recently produced work of increased but very
unequal merit, exaggerating the faults but showing some of the charm of
Baudelaire; and, partly under his, partly under foreign influence, a still
younger school has begun to make experiments in prosody which are not
uninteresting, but which are too minute for notice here.
The progress of French drama during the last half
century is of somewhat less importance to literature, but Minor and later
of even more to social history, than that of poetry. The Dramatists.
greatest masters of drama have already been mentioned
among the eight typical names of 1830, even Balzac Scribe.
having attempted it, though without much success. The
most famous and successful playwrights, however, as Ponsard.
distinguished from the producers of literary dramas,
have yet to be noticed[293]. Pixérécourt, a melodramatist Emile Augier.
and a book-collector, achieved his first success with a
play on the well-known story of the Dog of Montargis Eugène Labiche.
(itself dating back to the earliest days of the Chansons de
Gestes), in 1814, and followed it up with a long Dumas the Younger.
succession of similar pieces. Two years later Eugène
Scribe, who had been born in 1791, made his début, as Victorien Sardou.
far as success goes, with Une Nuit de la Garde
Nationale. Scribe was one of the most prolific, one of the most successful,
and one of the least literary of French dramatists. For nearly half a century
he continued, sometimes alone, and sometimes in collaboration, to pour
forth vaudevilles, dramas, and comedies, almost all of which were
favourably received. Scribe was generous to his associates, and would
sometimes acknowledge the communication of a bare idea by a share in the
profits of the play which it suggested. He had also an almost unrivalled
knowledge of the technique of the theatre, and not a little wit. But his style
is loose and careless, and his dramas do not bear reading. His most
important later plays are Valérie, 1822; Le Mariage d'Argent, 1827;
Bertrand et Raton, 1833; Le Verre d'Eau, 1840; Une Chaîne, 1841; Bataille
most accomplished versifier who has made his appearance in France for the
last twenty years. But after his first efforts he appeared to abandon himself
almost entirely to prose. M. Paul Verlaine, a poet known from the early days
of the Parnasse, has more recently produced work of increased but very
unequal merit, exaggerating the faults but showing some of the charm of
Baudelaire; and, partly under his, partly under foreign influence, a still
younger school has begun to make experiments in prosody which are not
uninteresting, but which are too minute for notice here.
The progress of French drama during the last half
century is of somewhat less importance to literature, but Minor and later
of even more to social history, than that of poetry. The Dramatists.
greatest masters of drama have already been mentioned
among the eight typical names of 1830, even Balzac Scribe.
having attempted it, though without much success. The
most famous and successful playwrights, however, as Ponsard.
distinguished from the producers of literary dramas,
have yet to be noticed[293]. Pixérécourt, a melodramatist Emile Augier.
and a book-collector, achieved his first success with a
play on the well-known story of the Dog of Montargis Eugène Labiche.
(itself dating back to the earliest days of the Chansons de
Gestes), in 1814, and followed it up with a long Dumas the Younger.
succession of similar pieces. Two years later Eugène
Scribe, who had been born in 1791, made his début, as Victorien Sardou.
far as success goes, with Une Nuit de la Garde
Nationale. Scribe was one of the most prolific, one of the most successful,
and one of the least literary of French dramatists. For nearly half a century
he continued, sometimes alone, and sometimes in collaboration, to pour
forth vaudevilles, dramas, and comedies, almost all of which were
favourably received. Scribe was generous to his associates, and would
sometimes acknowledge the communication of a bare idea by a share in the
profits of the play which it suggested. He had also an almost unrivalled
knowledge of the technique of the theatre, and not a little wit. But his style
is loose and careless, and his dramas do not bear reading. His most
important later plays are Valérie, 1822; Le Mariage d'Argent, 1827;
Bertrand et Raton, 1833; Le Verre d'Eau, 1840; Une Chaîne, 1841; Bataille
Page 564
de Dames, 1851. One of the less famous partakers in the first Romantic
movement, Bouchardy, distinguished himself, in succession to Pixérécourt,
as a Romantic melodramatist, his most famous works being Le Sonneur de
Saint Paul, and Lazare le Pâtre. In 1843 a kind of reaction was supposed to
be about to take place, the signs of which were the performance of the
Lucrèce of Ponsard in that year, and of the Ciguë of Emile Augier the year
after. Ponsard, however, was only a Romantic whose colour was deadened
by his inability to attain more brilliant tones. His succeeding plays, Agnès
de Méranie, Charlotte Corday, L'Honneur et l'Argent, showed this
sufficiently. M. Emile Augier is a more remarkable and a more independent
figure. In so far as he represents a protest against Romanticism at all (which
he does only very partially), it is because he shared in the growing tendency
towards realism, that is, to a recurrence in the Romantic sense to the
tragédie bourgeoise of the preceding century, and because also he gave no
countenance to the practice, in which some of the early Romantics
indulged, of representing immoral personages as interesting. Almost all M.
Augier's dramas, such as L'Aventurière, 1849, which is his masterpiece,
Gabrielle, 1849, Diane, 1852, Le Mariage d'Olympe, 1855, Le Fils de
Giboyer, 1862, and others of more recent date, are distinctly on the side of
the angels. But the author does not make the excellence of his intention a
reason for passing off inferior work, and he is justly recognised as one of
the leaders of French drama in the latter half of the century. About this same
time (1845) was the date of the appearance of a fertile and successful
playwright of the less exalted class, M. Dennery (Don César de Bazan,
L'Aieule). Auguste Maquet, another of the old guard of Romanticism,
distinguished himself by helping to adapt to the stage the novels of Dumas
the elder, which he had already helped to write; and one of his colleagues
on Dumas' staff, M. Octave Feuillet, who was shortly to make a great
reputation for himself as a novelist, appeared on the boards with Échec et
Mat. During the whole of this decade (1840-1850) Delphine Gay, the
beautiful and accomplished wife of the journalist Emile de Girardin, was a
frequent and successful play-writer. Soon afterwards M. Legouvé, son of
the academician of the same name, and himself an academician, began to
collaborate with Scribe in works of more importance (Adrienne
Lecouvreur) than the latter had before attempted; while George Sand and
her former friend, Jules Sandeau, were also drawn into the inevitable
theatrical vortex. In collaboration with Augier, Sandeau produced, from one
movement, Bouchardy, distinguished himself, in succession to Pixérécourt,
as a Romantic melodramatist, his most famous works being Le Sonneur de
Saint Paul, and Lazare le Pâtre. In 1843 a kind of reaction was supposed to
be about to take place, the signs of which were the performance of the
Lucrèce of Ponsard in that year, and of the Ciguë of Emile Augier the year
after. Ponsard, however, was only a Romantic whose colour was deadened
by his inability to attain more brilliant tones. His succeeding plays, Agnès
de Méranie, Charlotte Corday, L'Honneur et l'Argent, showed this
sufficiently. M. Emile Augier is a more remarkable and a more independent
figure. In so far as he represents a protest against Romanticism at all (which
he does only very partially), it is because he shared in the growing tendency
towards realism, that is, to a recurrence in the Romantic sense to the
tragédie bourgeoise of the preceding century, and because also he gave no
countenance to the practice, in which some of the early Romantics
indulged, of representing immoral personages as interesting. Almost all M.
Augier's dramas, such as L'Aventurière, 1849, which is his masterpiece,
Gabrielle, 1849, Diane, 1852, Le Mariage d'Olympe, 1855, Le Fils de
Giboyer, 1862, and others of more recent date, are distinctly on the side of
the angels. But the author does not make the excellence of his intention a
reason for passing off inferior work, and he is justly recognised as one of
the leaders of French drama in the latter half of the century. About this same
time (1845) was the date of the appearance of a fertile and successful
playwright of the less exalted class, M. Dennery (Don César de Bazan,
L'Aieule). Auguste Maquet, another of the old guard of Romanticism,
distinguished himself by helping to adapt to the stage the novels of Dumas
the elder, which he had already helped to write; and one of his colleagues
on Dumas' staff, M. Octave Feuillet, who was shortly to make a great
reputation for himself as a novelist, appeared on the boards with Échec et
Mat. During the whole of this decade (1840-1850) Delphine Gay, the
beautiful and accomplished wife of the journalist Emile de Girardin, was a
frequent and successful play-writer. Soon afterwards M. Legouvé, son of
the academician of the same name, and himself an academician, began to
collaborate with Scribe in works of more importance (Adrienne
Lecouvreur) than the latter had before attempted; while George Sand and
her former friend, Jules Sandeau, were also drawn into the inevitable
theatrical vortex. In collaboration with Augier, Sandeau produced, from one
Page 565
of his own novels, one of the best plays of the century, Le Gendre de M.
Poirier, 1855. Eugène Labiche, who had been born in 1815, distinguished
himself, in 1851, by Le Chapeau de Paille d'Italie, and in it laid the
foundation of a long career of success in the lighter kind of play which, at
last, conducted him to the Academy. His best-known play is Le Voyage de
M. Perrichon. The year 1852 was memorable for the French stage, for it
saw the production of La Dame aux Camélias, the first important play of
Alexandre Dumas fils. Without much of his father's talent for novel-writing,
M. Dumas has been both a more successful, and perhaps a better, dramatist.
Most of his plays have been directed to some burning question of the social
or ethical kind, and it has been his practice to re-issue them after a time,
with argumentative prefaces, in a very singular style. Diane de Lys, Le
Demi-Monde, La Question d'Argent, Le Fils Naturel, Le Supplice d'une
Femme (nominally composed with Emile de Girardin), Les Idées de
Madame Aubray, Une Visite de Noces, and L'Étrangère, are his chief works.
In 1854 appeared a now almost forgotten work by Victorien Sardou, who
was destined to be the favourite dramatist of the Second Empire, and to
share with MM. Augier and Dumas fils the chief rank among the dramatists
of the last half of the century. Seven years later Nos Intimes gave him a
great success, and, in 1865, La Famille Benoiton a greater, which he
followed up with Nos Bons Villageois, 1866. Since that time he has written
many plays, of which the finest by far, and one of the few comedies of this
age likely to become classical, is the admirable Rabagas—a satire of the
keenest on the interested politicians, who, in France as elsewhere, take up
demagogy as a trade. M. Sardou has attempted serious work in various
plays, the best of which is, perhaps, Patrie, but it is not his forte. Satirical
observation of manners, and especially of the current political and social
follies of the day, is what he can do best, and in this peculiar line he has few
equals. But he is admitted to be one of the most unequal of writers. A
peculiar offspring of the Second Empire are the brilliant burlesques of
Offenbach, which owed at least part of their brilliancy to the librettos
composed for them by MM. Meilhac and Halévy. The first-named of these
had produced successful dramas as far back as 1859. The collaborateurs did
not confine themselves to furnishing words for M. Offenbach's music, but
attempted the prose drama frequently and with success, Froufrou being
their most important work in this way. M. Gondinet and M. Pailleron also
deserve notice as successful manufacturers of light plays, the latter in
Poirier, 1855. Eugène Labiche, who had been born in 1815, distinguished
himself, in 1851, by Le Chapeau de Paille d'Italie, and in it laid the
foundation of a long career of success in the lighter kind of play which, at
last, conducted him to the Academy. His best-known play is Le Voyage de
M. Perrichon. The year 1852 was memorable for the French stage, for it
saw the production of La Dame aux Camélias, the first important play of
Alexandre Dumas fils. Without much of his father's talent for novel-writing,
M. Dumas has been both a more successful, and perhaps a better, dramatist.
Most of his plays have been directed to some burning question of the social
or ethical kind, and it has been his practice to re-issue them after a time,
with argumentative prefaces, in a very singular style. Diane de Lys, Le
Demi-Monde, La Question d'Argent, Le Fils Naturel, Le Supplice d'une
Femme (nominally composed with Emile de Girardin), Les Idées de
Madame Aubray, Une Visite de Noces, and L'Étrangère, are his chief works.
In 1854 appeared a now almost forgotten work by Victorien Sardou, who
was destined to be the favourite dramatist of the Second Empire, and to
share with MM. Augier and Dumas fils the chief rank among the dramatists
of the last half of the century. Seven years later Nos Intimes gave him a
great success, and, in 1865, La Famille Benoiton a greater, which he
followed up with Nos Bons Villageois, 1866. Since that time he has written
many plays, of which the finest by far, and one of the few comedies of this
age likely to become classical, is the admirable Rabagas—a satire of the
keenest on the interested politicians, who, in France as elsewhere, take up
demagogy as a trade. M. Sardou has attempted serious work in various
plays, the best of which is, perhaps, Patrie, but it is not his forte. Satirical
observation of manners, and especially of the current political and social
follies of the day, is what he can do best, and in this peculiar line he has few
equals. But he is admitted to be one of the most unequal of writers. A
peculiar offspring of the Second Empire are the brilliant burlesques of
Offenbach, which owed at least part of their brilliancy to the librettos
composed for them by MM. Meilhac and Halévy. The first-named of these
had produced successful dramas as far back as 1859. The collaborateurs did
not confine themselves to furnishing words for M. Offenbach's music, but
attempted the prose drama frequently and with success, Froufrou being
their most important work in this way. M. Gondinet and M. Pailleron also
deserve notice as successful manufacturers of light plays, the latter in
Page 566
especial having an excellent wit (Le monde où l'on s'ennuie, Le Chevalier
Trumeau). This may also be asserted of M. Halévy, who has latterly, in Les
Petites Cardinal and other non-dramatic sketches, shown himself to even
greater advantage than on the stage. Indeed the Cardinal family may be said
to be the most striking literary creation of its kind for years.
In a different class and earlier, Joseph Autran, a poet of the school of
Lamartine, obtained a great reputation by his tragedy of La Fille d'Eschyle,
which procured him a seat in the Academy, and gave him the opportunity of
writing not a few volumes of polished, but not very vigorous, poetry. M.
Théodore de Banville, who has tried most paths in literature, produced, in
1866, a short play, with the old mystery-writer Gringoire for hero and title-
giver; a play which is admirably written, and which has kept its place on the
stage. M. François Coppée's graceful Luthier de Crémone has already been
mentioned. Another literary dramatist, to distinguish the class from those
who are playwrights first of all, is M. Henri de Bornier, who obtained some
success, in 1875, with La Fille de Roland, and, in 1880, with Les Noces
d'Attila. Both these are good, though not consummate, specimens of the
poetical drama.
Trumeau). This may also be asserted of M. Halévy, who has latterly, in Les
Petites Cardinal and other non-dramatic sketches, shown himself to even
greater advantage than on the stage. Indeed the Cardinal family may be said
to be the most striking literary creation of its kind for years.
In a different class and earlier, Joseph Autran, a poet of the school of
Lamartine, obtained a great reputation by his tragedy of La Fille d'Eschyle,
which procured him a seat in the Academy, and gave him the opportunity of
writing not a few volumes of polished, but not very vigorous, poetry. M.
Théodore de Banville, who has tried most paths in literature, produced, in
1866, a short play, with the old mystery-writer Gringoire for hero and title-
giver; a play which is admirably written, and which has kept its place on the
stage. M. François Coppée's graceful Luthier de Crémone has already been
mentioned. Another literary dramatist, to distinguish the class from those
who are playwrights first of all, is M. Henri de Bornier, who obtained some
success, in 1875, with La Fille de Roland, and, in 1880, with Les Noces
d'Attila. Both these are good, though not consummate, specimens of the
poetical drama.
Page 567
Active, however, as was the cultivation of poetry proper
and of the drama, it is not likely that the nineteenth Classes of
century will be principally known in French literary Nineteenth-Century
Fiction.
history either as a poetical, or as a dramatic age. Its most
creative production is in the field of prose fiction. It is particularly
noteworthy that every one of the eight names which have been set at its
head is the name of a novelist, and that the energy of most of these authors
in novel-writing has been very considerable. Their production may be
divided into two broad classes—novels of incident, of which Hugo and
Dumas were the chief practitioners, and which derive chiefly from Sir
Walter Scott; and novels of character, which, with a not inconsiderable
admixture of English influence, may be said to be legitimately descended
from the indigenous novel created by Madame de la Fayette, continued by
Marivaux and still more by Prévost, and maintained, though in diminished
vivacity, by later writers. Of this school George Sand and Balzac are the
masters, though much importance must also be assigned to Stendhal. At
first the novelists of 1830 decidedly preferred the novel of incident, the
literary success of which in the hands of Hugo, and its pecuniary success in
the hands of Dumas, were equally likely to excite ambitions of different
kinds.
A rival of both of these in popularity during the reign of
Louis Philippe, though infinitely inferior to both in Minor and later
literary skill, was Eugène Sue. With him may be classed Novelists.
another voluminous manufacturer of exciting stories,
Frédéric Soulié, and somewhat later Paul Féval, with Jules Janin.
next to them Amédée Achard and Roger de Beauvoir. A better writer than
any of these was Jules Janin, whose literary career was long and
prosperous, but not uniform. Janin began with a strange story, in the
extremest Romantic taste, called L'Ane Mort et la Femme Guillotinée. This
at a later period he represented as an intentional caricature, which is not on
the whole likely. He followed it up with Barnave, a historical novel full of
exciting incident. Both these books, however, with grave defects, have
power perhaps superior to that shown in anything that Janin did later. Being
an exceedingly facile writer, and lacking that peculiar quality of style which
sometimes precludes popularity with the many as much as it secures it with
the few, he became absorbed in journalism, in the furnishing of
and of the drama, it is not likely that the nineteenth Classes of
century will be principally known in French literary Nineteenth-Century
Fiction.
history either as a poetical, or as a dramatic age. Its most
creative production is in the field of prose fiction. It is particularly
noteworthy that every one of the eight names which have been set at its
head is the name of a novelist, and that the energy of most of these authors
in novel-writing has been very considerable. Their production may be
divided into two broad classes—novels of incident, of which Hugo and
Dumas were the chief practitioners, and which derive chiefly from Sir
Walter Scott; and novels of character, which, with a not inconsiderable
admixture of English influence, may be said to be legitimately descended
from the indigenous novel created by Madame de la Fayette, continued by
Marivaux and still more by Prévost, and maintained, though in diminished
vivacity, by later writers. Of this school George Sand and Balzac are the
masters, though much importance must also be assigned to Stendhal. At
first the novelists of 1830 decidedly preferred the novel of incident, the
literary success of which in the hands of Hugo, and its pecuniary success in
the hands of Dumas, were equally likely to excite ambitions of different
kinds.
A rival of both of these in popularity during the reign of
Louis Philippe, though infinitely inferior to both in Minor and later
literary skill, was Eugène Sue. With him may be classed Novelists.
another voluminous manufacturer of exciting stories,
Frédéric Soulié, and somewhat later Paul Féval, with Jules Janin.
next to them Amédée Achard and Roger de Beauvoir. A better writer than
any of these was Jules Janin, whose literary career was long and
prosperous, but not uniform. Janin began with a strange story, in the
extremest Romantic taste, called L'Ane Mort et la Femme Guillotinée. This
at a later period he represented as an intentional caricature, which is not on
the whole likely. He followed it up with Barnave, a historical novel full of
exciting incident. Both these books, however, with grave defects, have
power perhaps superior to that shown in anything that Janin did later. Being
an exceedingly facile writer, and lacking that peculiar quality of style which
sometimes precludes popularity with the many as much as it secures it with
the few, he became absorbed in journalism, in the furnishing of
Page 568
miscellaneous articles, prefaces, and so forth, to the booksellers, and finally
in theatrical criticism, where he reigned supreme for many years. None of
his later novels need remark. With Janin may be mentioned M. Alphonse
Karr, who however has been more of a journalist than of a novelist. His
abundant and lively work has not perhaps the qualities of permanence. But
his Voyage autour de mon Jardin, his Sous les Tilleuls, and the satirical
publication known as Les Guépes, deserve at least to be named. Here too
may be noticed M. Barbey d'Aurévilly whose works critical and fictitious
(the chief being probably L'Ensorcelée) display a very remarkable faculty
of style, perhaps too deliberately eccentric, but full of distinction and
vigour.
Under the Empire, a fresh group of novelists of incident sprang up. MM.
Erckmann and Chatrian produced in collaboration a large number of tales,
chiefly dealing with the events of the Revolution and the First Empire in the
north-eastern provinces of France. Criminal and legal subjects were great
favourites with the late Emile Gaboriau, who naturalised in France the
detective novel. His chief follower is M. Fortuné du Boisgobey.
The best novelists of the generation of 1830, outside the
list of masters, have yet to be noticed. These are Charles Charles de Bernard.
de Bernard and Jules Sandeau. Charles de Bernard was
at one time Balzac's secretary, but his fashion of work is entirely different
from that of his employer. He divides himself for the most part between the
representation of the Parisian life of good society and that of country-house
manners. His shorter tales are perhaps his best, and many of them, such as
L'Ecueil, La Quarantaine, Le Paratonnerre, Le Gendre, etc., are admirable
examples of a class in which Frenchmen have always excelled. But his
longer works, Gerfaut, Les Ailes d'Icare, Un Homme Sérieux, etc., are not
inferior to them in wit, in accurate knowledge and skilful portraiture of
character, in good breeding, and in satiric touches which are always good-
humoured.
Jules Sandeau was a novelist of no very different class,
but with less wit, with much less satiric intention, and Jules Sandeau.
with a greater infusion of sentiment, not to say tragedy.
His best novels, Catherine, Mademoiselle de Penarvan, Mademoiselle de la
Seiglière, Le Docteur Herbeau, are drawn from provincial life, which, from
in theatrical criticism, where he reigned supreme for many years. None of
his later novels need remark. With Janin may be mentioned M. Alphonse
Karr, who however has been more of a journalist than of a novelist. His
abundant and lively work has not perhaps the qualities of permanence. But
his Voyage autour de mon Jardin, his Sous les Tilleuls, and the satirical
publication known as Les Guépes, deserve at least to be named. Here too
may be noticed M. Barbey d'Aurévilly whose works critical and fictitious
(the chief being probably L'Ensorcelée) display a very remarkable faculty
of style, perhaps too deliberately eccentric, but full of distinction and
vigour.
Under the Empire, a fresh group of novelists of incident sprang up. MM.
Erckmann and Chatrian produced in collaboration a large number of tales,
chiefly dealing with the events of the Revolution and the First Empire in the
north-eastern provinces of France. Criminal and legal subjects were great
favourites with the late Emile Gaboriau, who naturalised in France the
detective novel. His chief follower is M. Fortuné du Boisgobey.
The best novelists of the generation of 1830, outside the
list of masters, have yet to be noticed. These are Charles Charles de Bernard.
de Bernard and Jules Sandeau. Charles de Bernard was
at one time Balzac's secretary, but his fashion of work is entirely different
from that of his employer. He divides himself for the most part between the
representation of the Parisian life of good society and that of country-house
manners. His shorter tales are perhaps his best, and many of them, such as
L'Ecueil, La Quarantaine, Le Paratonnerre, Le Gendre, etc., are admirable
examples of a class in which Frenchmen have always excelled. But his
longer works, Gerfaut, Les Ailes d'Icare, Un Homme Sérieux, etc., are not
inferior to them in wit, in accurate knowledge and skilful portraiture of
character, in good breeding, and in satiric touches which are always good-
humoured.
Jules Sandeau was a novelist of no very different class,
but with less wit, with much less satiric intention, and Jules Sandeau.
with a greater infusion of sentiment, not to say tragedy.
His best novels, Catherine, Mademoiselle de Penarvan, Mademoiselle de la
Seiglière, Le Docteur Herbeau, are drawn from provincial life, which, from
Page 569
the great size of France and its diversity in scenery and local character, has
been a remarkably fertile subject to French novelists. These novels are
remarkable for their accurate and dramatic construction (which is such that
they have lent themselves in more than one instance to theatrical adaptation
with great success) and their pure and healthy morality.
Next in order of birth may be mentioned Octave Feuillet,
who began, as has been mentioned, by officiating as Octave Feuillet.
assistant to Alexandre Dumas. His first independent
efforts in novel-writing, Bellah and Onesta, were of the Murger.
same kind as his master's; but they were not great
successes, and after a short time he struck into an Edmond About.
original and much more promising path. His first really
characteristic novel was La Petite Comtesse, 1856, and Feydeau.
this was followed by others, the best of which are Le
Roman d'un Jeune Homme Pauvre, 1858; Sibylle, 1862; Gustave Droz
M. de Camors, 1867; and Julia de Trécœur, 1872: the
two last being perhaps his strongest books, though the Roman d'un Jeune
Homme Pauvre is the most popular. M. Feuillet wrote in a pure and easy
style, and exhibited in his novels acquaintance with the manners of good
society, and a considerable command of pathos. He was more studious of
the proprieties than most of his contemporaries, but has indulged in a
somewhat unhealthy sentimentalism. Henry Murger had a very original,
though a somewhat limited, talent. He is the novelist of what is called the
Parisian Bohême, the reckless society of young artists and men of letters,
which has always grouped itself in greater numbers at Paris than anywhere
else. The novel, or rather the series of sketches, entitled La Vie de Bohême
is one which, from the truth to nature, the pathos, and the wit which
accompany its caricature and burlesque of manners, will always hold a
position in literature. Murger, who experienced many hardships in his
youth, was all his life a careless and reckless liver, and died young. His
works (all prose fiction, except a small collection of poems not very striking
in form but touching and sincere in sentiment) are tolerably numerous, but
the best of them are little more than repetitions of the Vie de Bohême.
Edmond About, a very lively writer, whose liveliness was not always kept
sufficiently in check by good taste, oscillated between fiction and
journalism, latterly inclining chiefly to journalism. In his younger days he
been a remarkably fertile subject to French novelists. These novels are
remarkable for their accurate and dramatic construction (which is such that
they have lent themselves in more than one instance to theatrical adaptation
with great success) and their pure and healthy morality.
Next in order of birth may be mentioned Octave Feuillet,
who began, as has been mentioned, by officiating as Octave Feuillet.
assistant to Alexandre Dumas. His first independent
efforts in novel-writing, Bellah and Onesta, were of the Murger.
same kind as his master's; but they were not great
successes, and after a short time he struck into an Edmond About.
original and much more promising path. His first really
characteristic novel was La Petite Comtesse, 1856, and Feydeau.
this was followed by others, the best of which are Le
Roman d'un Jeune Homme Pauvre, 1858; Sibylle, 1862; Gustave Droz
M. de Camors, 1867; and Julia de Trécœur, 1872: the
two last being perhaps his strongest books, though the Roman d'un Jeune
Homme Pauvre is the most popular. M. Feuillet wrote in a pure and easy
style, and exhibited in his novels acquaintance with the manners of good
society, and a considerable command of pathos. He was more studious of
the proprieties than most of his contemporaries, but has indulged in a
somewhat unhealthy sentimentalism. Henry Murger had a very original,
though a somewhat limited, talent. He is the novelist of what is called the
Parisian Bohême, the reckless society of young artists and men of letters,
which has always grouped itself in greater numbers at Paris than anywhere
else. The novel, or rather the series of sketches, entitled La Vie de Bohême
is one which, from the truth to nature, the pathos, and the wit which
accompany its caricature and burlesque of manners, will always hold a
position in literature. Murger, who experienced many hardships in his
youth, was all his life a careless and reckless liver, and died young. His
works (all prose fiction, except a small collection of poems not very striking
in form but touching and sincere in sentiment) are tolerably numerous, but
the best of them are little more than repetitions of the Vie de Bohême.
Edmond About, a very lively writer, whose liveliness was not always kept
sufficiently in check by good taste, oscillated between fiction and
journalism, latterly inclining chiefly to journalism. In his younger days he
Page 570
was better known as a novelist, and some of his works, such as Tolla and Le
Roi des Montagnes, were very popular. More characteristic perhaps are his
shorter and more familiar stories (L'Homme à l'Oreille Cassée, Le Nez d'un
Notaire, etc.). In this same group of novelists of the Second Republic and
Empire ranks Ernest Feydeau, a morbid and thoroughly unwholesome
author, who, however, did not lack power, and once at least (in Sylvie)
produced work of unquestionable merit. His other novels, Fanny, Daniel,
La Comtesse de Chalis, are chiefly remarkable as showing the worst side of
the society of the Empire. Among writers of short stories Champfleury, a
friend and contemporary of Murger (who has more recently betaken himself
to artistic criticism of the historical kind), deserves notice for his amusing
extravaganzas, and Gustave Droz for the singularly ingenious and witty
series of domestic sketches entitled Monsieur, Madame et Bébé, and Entre
Nous. The range of subject in these is wide and not always what is
understood by the English word domestic. But the fancy shown in their
design and the literary skill of their execution are alike remarkable and
worthy of the ancient reputation of France in the short prose tale. Nor have
they lacked followers.
The greatest of the Second Empire novelists is
unquestionably Gustave Flaubert, who was born in Flaubert.
1821. Having a sufficient income he betook himself
early to literature, which he cultivated with an amount of care and elaborate
self-discipline rare among authors. In 1848 he contributed to the Artiste
newspaper, then edited by Gautier, some fragments of a remarkable fantasy-
piece on the legend of St. Anthony, which was not published as a whole till
nearly a quarter of a century later. In 1859, being then nearly forty years
old, he achieved at once a great success and a great scandal by his novel of
Madame Bovary, a study of provincial life, as unsparing as any of Balzac's,
but more true to actual nature, more finished in construction, and far
superior in style. It was the subject of a prosecution, but the author was
acquitted. Next, M. Flaubert selected an archaeological subject, and
produced, after long study, Salammbo, a novel the scene of which is pitched
at Carthage in the days of the mercenary war. This book, like the former,
has a certain repulsiveness of subject in parts; but the vigour of the drawing
and the extraordinary skill in description are as remarkable as ever.
L'Education Sentimentale, which followed, was Flaubert's least popular
Roi des Montagnes, were very popular. More characteristic perhaps are his
shorter and more familiar stories (L'Homme à l'Oreille Cassée, Le Nez d'un
Notaire, etc.). In this same group of novelists of the Second Republic and
Empire ranks Ernest Feydeau, a morbid and thoroughly unwholesome
author, who, however, did not lack power, and once at least (in Sylvie)
produced work of unquestionable merit. His other novels, Fanny, Daniel,
La Comtesse de Chalis, are chiefly remarkable as showing the worst side of
the society of the Empire. Among writers of short stories Champfleury, a
friend and contemporary of Murger (who has more recently betaken himself
to artistic criticism of the historical kind), deserves notice for his amusing
extravaganzas, and Gustave Droz for the singularly ingenious and witty
series of domestic sketches entitled Monsieur, Madame et Bébé, and Entre
Nous. The range of subject in these is wide and not always what is
understood by the English word domestic. But the fancy shown in their
design and the literary skill of their execution are alike remarkable and
worthy of the ancient reputation of France in the short prose tale. Nor have
they lacked followers.
The greatest of the Second Empire novelists is
unquestionably Gustave Flaubert, who was born in Flaubert.
1821. Having a sufficient income he betook himself
early to literature, which he cultivated with an amount of care and elaborate
self-discipline rare among authors. In 1848 he contributed to the Artiste
newspaper, then edited by Gautier, some fragments of a remarkable fantasy-
piece on the legend of St. Anthony, which was not published as a whole till
nearly a quarter of a century later. In 1859, being then nearly forty years
old, he achieved at once a great success and a great scandal by his novel of
Madame Bovary, a study of provincial life, as unsparing as any of Balzac's,
but more true to actual nature, more finished in construction, and far
superior in style. It was the subject of a prosecution, but the author was
acquitted. Next, M. Flaubert selected an archaeological subject, and
produced, after long study, Salammbo, a novel the scene of which is pitched
at Carthage in the days of the mercenary war. This book, like the former,
has a certain repulsiveness of subject in parts; but the vigour of the drawing
and the extraordinary skill in description are as remarkable as ever.
L'Education Sentimentale, which followed, was Flaubert's least popular
Page 571
work, being too long, and having an insufficiently defined plot and interest.
Then appeared the completed Tentation de St. Antoine, a book deserving to
rank at the head of its class—that of the fantastic romance. Afterwards came
Trois Contes, exhibiting in miniature all the author's characteristics; and
lastly, after his sudden death, in 1881, the unfinished Bouvard et Pécuchet.
The faults of Flaubert are, in the first place, indiscriminate meddling with
subjects best left alone, which he shares with most French novelists; in the
second, a certain complaisance in dealing with things simply horrible,
which is more peculiar to him; in the third, an occasional prodigality of
erudite detail which clogs and impedes the action. His merits are an almost
incomparable power of description, a mastery of those types of character
which he attempts, an imagination of extraordinary power, and a singular
satirical criticism of life, which does not exclude the possession of a vein of
romantic and almost poetical sentiment and suggestion. He is a writer
repulsive to many, unintelligible to more, and never likely to be generally
popular, but sure to retain his place in the admiration of those who judge
literature as literature.
The name of Flaubert has been much invoked, and his
reputation has been not a little compromised, by a small The Naturalists.
but noisy school of novelists and critics who call Emile Zola.
themselves naturalists, and affect to preach and practice a new crusade for
the purpose of revolutionising poetry, fiction, and the drama. These persons,
whose leader is M. Emile Zola, a busy and popular novelist, an
unsuccessful dramatist, and a critic of great industry, include the brothers
Goncourt (one of whom is now dead) and a number of younger writers who
deserve no notice, except M. Guy de Maupassant, whose prose, if too often
ill employed, is as vigorous as his verse, and who in his excellent Pierre et
Jean broke his naturalist chains. The naturalists affect to derive from
Stendhal, through Balzac and Flaubert. That is to say, they adopt the
analytic method, and devote themselves chiefly to the study of character.
But they go farther than these great artists by objecting to the processes of
art. According to them, literature is to be strictly 'scientific,' to confine itself
to anatomy, and, it would appear, to morbid anatomy only. The Romantic
treatment, that is to say, the presentation of natural facts in an artistic
setting, is rigidly proscribed. Everything must be set down on the principle
of a newspaper report, or, to go to another art for an illustration, as if by a
Then appeared the completed Tentation de St. Antoine, a book deserving to
rank at the head of its class—that of the fantastic romance. Afterwards came
Trois Contes, exhibiting in miniature all the author's characteristics; and
lastly, after his sudden death, in 1881, the unfinished Bouvard et Pécuchet.
The faults of Flaubert are, in the first place, indiscriminate meddling with
subjects best left alone, which he shares with most French novelists; in the
second, a certain complaisance in dealing with things simply horrible,
which is more peculiar to him; in the third, an occasional prodigality of
erudite detail which clogs and impedes the action. His merits are an almost
incomparable power of description, a mastery of those types of character
which he attempts, an imagination of extraordinary power, and a singular
satirical criticism of life, which does not exclude the possession of a vein of
romantic and almost poetical sentiment and suggestion. He is a writer
repulsive to many, unintelligible to more, and never likely to be generally
popular, but sure to retain his place in the admiration of those who judge
literature as literature.
The name of Flaubert has been much invoked, and his
reputation has been not a little compromised, by a small The Naturalists.
but noisy school of novelists and critics who call Emile Zola.
themselves naturalists, and affect to preach and practice a new crusade for
the purpose of revolutionising poetry, fiction, and the drama. These persons,
whose leader is M. Emile Zola, a busy and popular novelist, an
unsuccessful dramatist, and a critic of great industry, include the brothers
Goncourt (one of whom is now dead) and a number of younger writers who
deserve no notice, except M. Guy de Maupassant, whose prose, if too often
ill employed, is as vigorous as his verse, and who in his excellent Pierre et
Jean broke his naturalist chains. The naturalists affect to derive from
Stendhal, through Balzac and Flaubert. That is to say, they adopt the
analytic method, and devote themselves chiefly to the study of character.
But they go farther than these great artists by objecting to the processes of
art. According to them, literature is to be strictly 'scientific,' to confine itself
to anatomy, and, it would appear, to morbid anatomy only. The Romantic
treatment, that is to say, the presentation of natural facts in an artistic
setting, is rigidly proscribed. Everything must be set down on the principle
of a newspaper report, or, to go to another art for an illustration, as if by a
Page 572
photographic camera, not by an artist's pencil. Now it will be obvious to any
impartial critic that the pursuance of this method is in itself fatal to the
interest of a book. The reader, unless of the very lowest order of intellect,
does not want in a novel a mere reproduction of the facts of life, still less a
mere scientific reference of them to causes. Accordingly, the naturalist
method inevitably produces an extreme dulness. In their search for a
remedy, its practitioners have observed that there are certain divisions of
human action, usually classed as vice and crime, in which, for their own
sake, and independently of pleasure in artistic appreciation of the manner in
which they are presented, a morbid interest is felt by a large number of
persons. They therefore, with businesslike shrewdness, invariably, or almost
invariably, select their subjects from these privileged classes. The ambition
of the naturalist, briefly described without epigram or flippancy, but as he
would himself say scientifically, is to mention the unmentionable with as
much fulness of detail as possible. In this business M. Emile Zola has not
hitherto been surpassed, though many of his pupils have run him hard.
Unfortunately, for those who are proof against the attraction of disgusting
subjects merely because they are disgusting, M. Zola is one of the dullest of
writers. His style is also very bad, possessing for its sole merits a certain
vulgar vigour which is occasionally not ineffective, and a capacity for vivid
description. He is deeply learned in argot, or slang, the use of which is one
of the naturalist instruments, and his works are therefore not useless as
repertories of expressions to be avoided. M. Zola's criticisms are more
interesting than his novels, consisting chiefly of vigorous denunciations of
all the good writers of his own day.
M. Victor Cherbuliez, besides political and miscellaneous work of inferior
relative power, has produced a series of novels (Le Comte Kostia, Le
Roman d'une Honnête Femme, Méta Holdenis, Samuel Brohl et Cie) which
are remarkable for style, construction, and wit. M. Alphonse Daudet,
beginning early, produced in his first stage a charming collection of Lettres
de mon Moulin, and a pathetic autobiographic novel Le Petit Chose. In his
second, attempting the manner of Dickens, he obtained with Jack, 1873,
and Froment Jeune et Risler Aîné, 1874, great popularity. His later works,
Le Nabab, Les Rois en Exil, Numa Roumestan, L'Évangéliste, L'Immortel,
shew, in their condescending to the satisfaction of vulgar curiosity as to
living or lately dead persons, a great falling off. The capacity of M. Daudet
impartial critic that the pursuance of this method is in itself fatal to the
interest of a book. The reader, unless of the very lowest order of intellect,
does not want in a novel a mere reproduction of the facts of life, still less a
mere scientific reference of them to causes. Accordingly, the naturalist
method inevitably produces an extreme dulness. In their search for a
remedy, its practitioners have observed that there are certain divisions of
human action, usually classed as vice and crime, in which, for their own
sake, and independently of pleasure in artistic appreciation of the manner in
which they are presented, a morbid interest is felt by a large number of
persons. They therefore, with businesslike shrewdness, invariably, or almost
invariably, select their subjects from these privileged classes. The ambition
of the naturalist, briefly described without epigram or flippancy, but as he
would himself say scientifically, is to mention the unmentionable with as
much fulness of detail as possible. In this business M. Emile Zola has not
hitherto been surpassed, though many of his pupils have run him hard.
Unfortunately, for those who are proof against the attraction of disgusting
subjects merely because they are disgusting, M. Zola is one of the dullest of
writers. His style is also very bad, possessing for its sole merits a certain
vulgar vigour which is occasionally not ineffective, and a capacity for vivid
description. He is deeply learned in argot, or slang, the use of which is one
of the naturalist instruments, and his works are therefore not useless as
repertories of expressions to be avoided. M. Zola's criticisms are more
interesting than his novels, consisting chiefly of vigorous denunciations of
all the good writers of his own day.
M. Victor Cherbuliez, besides political and miscellaneous work of inferior
relative power, has produced a series of novels (Le Comte Kostia, Le
Roman d'une Honnête Femme, Méta Holdenis, Samuel Brohl et Cie) which
are remarkable for style, construction, and wit. M. Alphonse Daudet,
beginning early, produced in his first stage a charming collection of Lettres
de mon Moulin, and a pathetic autobiographic novel Le Petit Chose. In his
second, attempting the manner of Dickens, he obtained with Jack, 1873,
and Froment Jeune et Risler Aîné, 1874, great popularity. His later works,
Le Nabab, Les Rois en Exil, Numa Roumestan, L'Évangéliste, L'Immortel,
shew, in their condescending to the satisfaction of vulgar curiosity as to
living or lately dead persons, a great falling off. The capacity of M. Daudet
Page 573
(whose Tartarin de Tarascon with its sequel is wholly admirable
extravaganza) cannot be doubted: his taste is deplorable. Of still more
recent novelists two only can be mentioned: M. Georges Ohnet (Serge
Panine, Le Maître de Forges, La Grande Marnière) whose popularity with
readers is only equalled by the unanimous disfavour with which all
competent critics regard him, and M. Viaud ('Pierre Loti'), a naval officer,
whose work (Aziyadé, Le Mariage de Loti, Mon Frère Yves, Madame
Chrysanthème), midway between the novel, the autobiography, and the
travel-book displays some elegance and much 'preciousness' of style and
fancy.
After the Revolution the fortune of journalism was
assured, and though under the subsequent forms of Journalists and
government it was subjected to a rigid censorship, it was Critics.
too firmly established to be overthrown. Almost all men
of letters flocked to it. The leading article or unsigned Paul de Saint-
Victor.
political and miscellaneous essay has never been so
strong a feature of French journalism as it has been of
English. On the other hand, the feuilleton, or daily, Hippolyte Taine.
weekly, and monthly instalment of fiction or criticism, has been one of its
chief characteristics. Many, if not most, of the most celebrated novels of the
last half century have originally appeared in this form, publication in
independent parts, which was long fashionable in England, never having
found favour in France. In the same way, though weekly reviews devoted
wholly or mainly to literary criticism have, for some reason, never been
successful with the French as they have with us, daily journalism has given
a greater space to criticism, and especially to theatrical criticism. All French
criticism subsequent to 1830 may be said to derive, whether it deals with
literature, with the theatre, or with art, from three masters, Sainte-Beuve,
Gautier, and Janin. The method of the first has been sufficiently explained.
Gautier's was rather the expression of a fine critical appreciation in the most
exquisite style, and Janin's, the far easier, and, after a short time,
unimportant plan of gossiping amiably and amusingly about, it might be the
subject, it might be something quite different. The only successor to Gautier
was Paul de Saint-Victor, who, however, was inferior to his master in
appreciative power, and exaggerated his habit of relying on style to carry
him through. Paul de Saint-Victor was not a frequent writer, and his
extravaganza) cannot be doubted: his taste is deplorable. Of still more
recent novelists two only can be mentioned: M. Georges Ohnet (Serge
Panine, Le Maître de Forges, La Grande Marnière) whose popularity with
readers is only equalled by the unanimous disfavour with which all
competent critics regard him, and M. Viaud ('Pierre Loti'), a naval officer,
whose work (Aziyadé, Le Mariage de Loti, Mon Frère Yves, Madame
Chrysanthème), midway between the novel, the autobiography, and the
travel-book displays some elegance and much 'preciousness' of style and
fancy.
After the Revolution the fortune of journalism was
assured, and though under the subsequent forms of Journalists and
government it was subjected to a rigid censorship, it was Critics.
too firmly established to be overthrown. Almost all men
of letters flocked to it. The leading article or unsigned Paul de Saint-
Victor.
political and miscellaneous essay has never been so
strong a feature of French journalism as it has been of
English. On the other hand, the feuilleton, or daily, Hippolyte Taine.
weekly, and monthly instalment of fiction or criticism, has been one of its
chief characteristics. Many, if not most, of the most celebrated novels of the
last half century have originally appeared in this form, publication in
independent parts, which was long fashionable in England, never having
found favour in France. In the same way, though weekly reviews devoted
wholly or mainly to literary criticism have, for some reason, never been
successful with the French as they have with us, daily journalism has given
a greater space to criticism, and especially to theatrical criticism. All French
criticism subsequent to 1830 may be said to derive, whether it deals with
literature, with the theatre, or with art, from three masters, Sainte-Beuve,
Gautier, and Janin. The method of the first has been sufficiently explained.
Gautier's was rather the expression of a fine critical appreciation in the most
exquisite style, and Janin's, the far easier, and, after a short time,
unimportant plan of gossiping amiably and amusingly about, it might be the
subject, it might be something quite different. The only successor to Gautier
was Paul de Saint-Victor, who, however, was inferior to his master in
appreciative power, and exaggerated his habit of relying on style to carry
him through. Paul de Saint-Victor was not a frequent writer, and his
Page 574
collected works as yet do not fill many volumes. Hommes et Dieux, which
is perhaps the principal of them, exhibits a deficiency of catholicity in
literary appreciation. His latest book, Les Deux Masques, an unfinished
study of the history of the stage, contains much brilliant writing, but is
wanting in solid qualities. As a theatrical critic, Janin was succeeded by a
curiously different person, M. Francisque Sarcey, who has chiefly been
noteworthy for severity and a kind of pedagogic common sense, as unlike
as possible to the good-humoured gossip of Janin. M. de Pontmartin was an
acrid but vigorous critic on the royalist and orthodox side. M. Hippolyte
Taine, chief of Sainte-Beuve's followers, has somewhat caricatured his
master's method. Sainte-Beuve's principle was, it must be remembered, to
examine carefully the circumstances of his author's time, in order to
ascertain their bearing upon him. In M. Taine's hands this wise practice
changed itself into a theory—the theory that every man is a kind of product
of the circumstances, and that, by examining the latter, the man is
necessarily explained. M. Taine chose for his principal exercising ground
the history of English literature. He produced under that title a series of
studies often acute, always brilliant in style, but constantly showing the
faults of the critical method just indicated. Of other literary critics, the two
chief besides M. Taine are M. Edmond Scherer and M. Emile Montégut.
The latter is a critic of a very fine and delicate appreciation. A short essay of
his on Boccaccio may be specified as one of the best of French
contemporary critical exercises. M. Scherer has a good deal of common
sense, a considerable acquaintance with literature, and a clear,
straightforward, and vigorous style. His judgment, however, is much
limited by prejudice, and some of his studies, such as those on Baudelaire
and Diderot, show that he is an untrustworthy judge of what is not
commonplace.
A separate school of criticism, of a more academic
character than that represented by most of the names just Academic Critics.
mentioned, has existed in France during the greater part
of the century, and during a great part of it has found its means of utterance
partly in the University chairs and in treatises crowned by the Academy,
partly in a well-known fortnightly periodical, the Revue des Deux-Mondes.
The master of this school of criticism may be said to have been Villemain,
1790-1870, who represents the classical tradition corrected by a very
is perhaps the principal of them, exhibits a deficiency of catholicity in
literary appreciation. His latest book, Les Deux Masques, an unfinished
study of the history of the stage, contains much brilliant writing, but is
wanting in solid qualities. As a theatrical critic, Janin was succeeded by a
curiously different person, M. Francisque Sarcey, who has chiefly been
noteworthy for severity and a kind of pedagogic common sense, as unlike
as possible to the good-humoured gossip of Janin. M. de Pontmartin was an
acrid but vigorous critic on the royalist and orthodox side. M. Hippolyte
Taine, chief of Sainte-Beuve's followers, has somewhat caricatured his
master's method. Sainte-Beuve's principle was, it must be remembered, to
examine carefully the circumstances of his author's time, in order to
ascertain their bearing upon him. In M. Taine's hands this wise practice
changed itself into a theory—the theory that every man is a kind of product
of the circumstances, and that, by examining the latter, the man is
necessarily explained. M. Taine chose for his principal exercising ground
the history of English literature. He produced under that title a series of
studies often acute, always brilliant in style, but constantly showing the
faults of the critical method just indicated. Of other literary critics, the two
chief besides M. Taine are M. Edmond Scherer and M. Emile Montégut.
The latter is a critic of a very fine and delicate appreciation. A short essay of
his on Boccaccio may be specified as one of the best of French
contemporary critical exercises. M. Scherer has a good deal of common
sense, a considerable acquaintance with literature, and a clear,
straightforward, and vigorous style. His judgment, however, is much
limited by prejudice, and some of his studies, such as those on Baudelaire
and Diderot, show that he is an untrustworthy judge of what is not
commonplace.
A separate school of criticism, of a more academic
character than that represented by most of the names just Academic Critics.
mentioned, has existed in France during the greater part
of the century, and during a great part of it has found its means of utterance
partly in the University chairs and in treatises crowned by the Academy,
partly in a well-known fortnightly periodical, the Revue des Deux-Mondes.
The master of this school of criticism may be said to have been Villemain,
1790-1870, who represents the classical tradition corrected by a very
Page 575
considerable study of other European languages besides French. Not the
least part of the narrowness of the older classical school was due to its
ignorance of these languages, and its consequent incapacity to make the
necessary comparisons. Villemain's criticism, though not quite so flexible as
it might have been, was on the whole sound, and the same variety of the art,
though with more limitations, was represented by Guizot. Not a few critics
of merit of the same kind were born at the close of the last century, or at the
beginning of this. Among them may be mentioned M. Nisard, a bitter
opponent of the Romantic movement, and a prejudiced critic of French
literature, but a writer of very considerable knowledge, and of some literary
merit; Eugène Geruzez, author of by far the best history of French literature
in a small compass, and of many separate treatises of value; Alexandre
Vinet, a Swiss, and a Protestant, who died at no very advanced age, leaving
much work of merit; and Saint-Marc Girardin, who busied himself nearly as
much in journalism and politics as in literary criticism proper, but whose
professorial Cours de Littérature Dramatique is a work of interest,
exhibiting a kind of transition style between the older and newer criticism.
Michelet, Quinet, M. Renan, and others, who will be mentioned under other
heads, have also been considerable as critics. Philarète Chasles was a lively
writer, who devoted himself especially to English literature, and whose
judgment in matters literary was not quite equal to his affection for them.
The critics of the Revue des Deux-Mondes proper include, besides not a few
authors named elsewhere, Gustave Planche, a person of curious
idiosyncrasy, chiefly remarkable for the ferocity of his critiques; Saint René
Taillandier, a dull man of industry; and M. Caro, a man of industry who was
not dull. Latterly some younger writers have endeavoured (chiefly in its
pages) to set up a kind of neo-classical school, which is equally opposed to
modern innovations, and to the habit of studying old French, that is, French
before the sixteenth century. The chief of these advocates of a return to the
Malherbe-Boileau dungeon is M. Ferdinand Brunetière. We must not omit
among the older generation M. Lenient, the author of two admirable
volumes on the History of French Satire; among the younger, M. Paul
Stapfer, the author of an excellent study of 'Shakespeare et l'Antiquité,' M.
Jules Lemaître, a brilliant critic, who is perhaps a little more brilliant than
critical, and M. Emile Faguet, whose criticism is as sound as it is
accomplished.
least part of the narrowness of the older classical school was due to its
ignorance of these languages, and its consequent incapacity to make the
necessary comparisons. Villemain's criticism, though not quite so flexible as
it might have been, was on the whole sound, and the same variety of the art,
though with more limitations, was represented by Guizot. Not a few critics
of merit of the same kind were born at the close of the last century, or at the
beginning of this. Among them may be mentioned M. Nisard, a bitter
opponent of the Romantic movement, and a prejudiced critic of French
literature, but a writer of very considerable knowledge, and of some literary
merit; Eugène Geruzez, author of by far the best history of French literature
in a small compass, and of many separate treatises of value; Alexandre
Vinet, a Swiss, and a Protestant, who died at no very advanced age, leaving
much work of merit; and Saint-Marc Girardin, who busied himself nearly as
much in journalism and politics as in literary criticism proper, but whose
professorial Cours de Littérature Dramatique is a work of interest,
exhibiting a kind of transition style between the older and newer criticism.
Michelet, Quinet, M. Renan, and others, who will be mentioned under other
heads, have also been considerable as critics. Philarète Chasles was a lively
writer, who devoted himself especially to English literature, and whose
judgment in matters literary was not quite equal to his affection for them.
The critics of the Revue des Deux-Mondes proper include, besides not a few
authors named elsewhere, Gustave Planche, a person of curious
idiosyncrasy, chiefly remarkable for the ferocity of his critiques; Saint René
Taillandier, a dull man of industry; and M. Caro, a man of industry who was
not dull. Latterly some younger writers have endeavoured (chiefly in its
pages) to set up a kind of neo-classical school, which is equally opposed to
modern innovations, and to the habit of studying old French, that is, French
before the sixteenth century. The chief of these advocates of a return to the
Malherbe-Boileau dungeon is M. Ferdinand Brunetière. We must not omit
among the older generation M. Lenient, the author of two admirable
volumes on the History of French Satire; among the younger, M. Paul
Stapfer, the author of an excellent study of 'Shakespeare et l'Antiquité,' M.
Jules Lemaître, a brilliant critic, who is perhaps a little more brilliant than
critical, and M. Emile Faguet, whose criticism is as sound as it is
accomplished.
Page 576
Among the representatives of art criticism Viollet-le-Duc as a writer on
architecture, and Charles Blanc (brother of Louis) as an authority on
decorative art generally, made before their deaths reputations sufficiently
exceptional to be noticed here. Here also, as representatives of other classes
of literature, the names of Hector Berlioz, the great composer, author of
letters and memoirs of great interest; of Henri Monnier, an artist not much
less skilful with his pen than with his pencil in satirical sketches of Parisian
types (especially his famous 'Joseph Prudhomme'); of Charles Monselet, a
miscellaneous writer whose sympathies were as wide and his temper as
genial as his literary faculty was accomplished; of X. Doudan, whose
posthumous remains and letters attracted much attention after a life of
silence; and of the Genevese diarist Amiel, selections from whose vast
journal of philosophical sentimentalism and miscellaneous reflection have
also been popular, may be cited.
The revived study of old French literature just noticed is
the only department of the literature of erudition which Linguistic and
Literary Study of
can receive notice here, for prose science and classical French.
study fall equally out of our range of possible treatment
here. The Histoire Littéraire was revived, and has been steadily proceeded
with. Every department of old French literature has been studied, latterly in
vigorous rivalry with the Germans. The most important single name in this
study has been that of the late M. Paulin Paris, who edited reprints of all
sorts with untiring energy, and in a thoroughly literary spirit. The Chansons
de Gestes have been the especial care of M. Paulin Paris, his son M. Gaston
Paris (Histoire Poétique de Charlemagne), and M. Léon Gautier, who has
written, and is now republishing in an altered and improved form, a great
work on the early French epics. The Arthurian romances have been more
studied in Germany and Belgium than in France, though valuable work has
been done in them by M. Paulin Paris, M. Hucher, and others. The Fabliaux
have recently appeared in a nearly complete edition, by M. de Montaiglon.
M. P. Meyer has thrown new light on the Roman d'Alixandre. The Roman
du Renart, also published by Méon, has been undertaken again by M.
Ernest Martin. The separate authors of the later ages have, in almost every
case, been the subject of much careful work, and for some years past a
'Société des Anciens Textes Français' has existed for the express purpose of
publishing unprinted MSS. This society has undertaken the great collection
architecture, and Charles Blanc (brother of Louis) as an authority on
decorative art generally, made before their deaths reputations sufficiently
exceptional to be noticed here. Here also, as representatives of other classes
of literature, the names of Hector Berlioz, the great composer, author of
letters and memoirs of great interest; of Henri Monnier, an artist not much
less skilful with his pen than with his pencil in satirical sketches of Parisian
types (especially his famous 'Joseph Prudhomme'); of Charles Monselet, a
miscellaneous writer whose sympathies were as wide and his temper as
genial as his literary faculty was accomplished; of X. Doudan, whose
posthumous remains and letters attracted much attention after a life of
silence; and of the Genevese diarist Amiel, selections from whose vast
journal of philosophical sentimentalism and miscellaneous reflection have
also been popular, may be cited.
The revived study of old French literature just noticed is
the only department of the literature of erudition which Linguistic and
Literary Study of
can receive notice here, for prose science and classical French.
study fall equally out of our range of possible treatment
here. The Histoire Littéraire was revived, and has been steadily proceeded
with. Every department of old French literature has been studied, latterly in
vigorous rivalry with the Germans. The most important single name in this
study has been that of the late M. Paulin Paris, who edited reprints of all
sorts with untiring energy, and in a thoroughly literary spirit. The Chansons
de Gestes have been the especial care of M. Paulin Paris, his son M. Gaston
Paris (Histoire Poétique de Charlemagne), and M. Léon Gautier, who has
written, and is now republishing in an altered and improved form, a great
work on the early French epics. The Arthurian romances have been more
studied in Germany and Belgium than in France, though valuable work has
been done in them by M. Paulin Paris, M. Hucher, and others. The Fabliaux
have recently appeared in a nearly complete edition, by M. de Montaiglon.
M. P. Meyer has thrown new light on the Roman d'Alixandre. The Roman
du Renart, also published by Méon, has been undertaken again by M.
Ernest Martin. The separate authors of the later ages have, in almost every
case, been the subject of much careful work, and for some years past a
'Société des Anciens Textes Français' has existed for the express purpose of
publishing unprinted MSS. This society has undertaken the great collection
Page 577
of Miracles de Notre Dame, the works of Eustache Deschamps, and other
important tasks. A great deal of excellent work in the same direction has
been done in Belgium by members of the various Academies. The great
classics of France, from the sixteenth century onward, have been the object
of constant and careful editing, such as the classics of no other country have
enjoyed. Nor has the linguistic part of the study been omitted. The two chief
monuments of this are the great dictionary of Littré, and the complement of
it, now in course of publication, by M. Godefroy, which contains a
complete lexicon of the older tongue. Among the collections of old French
literature, the Bibliothèque Elzévirienne may be especially noticed. This,
besides many reprints of isolated authors, contains invaluable examples of
the early theatre, a still more precious collection of scattered poems of the
fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, and one of miscellanies of the sixteenth
and seventeenth. Under the Empire the government began the publication of
all the Chansons de Gestes, but the enterprise was unfortunately interrupted
at the tenth volume.
The branches of literature, other than the Belles Lettres,
which naturally retain, longer than those which busy Philosophical
themselves with science as it is now understood, the Writers.
literary interest, are philosophy, theology, and history. In
philosophy France has produced, during the present Comte.
century, only one name of the first importance. As has been the case with all
other European nations, her philosophical energies have chiefly been
devoted to the historical side of philosophy, a tendency specially
encouraged by the already-mentioned influence of Cousin. Damiron, the
chief authority in French on the materialist schools of the eighteenth
century; M. Jules Simon and Vacherot, who busied themselves chiefly with
the Alexandrian philosophers—Cousin it should be remembered was the
editor of Proclus—and Charles de Rémusat, a man of great capacity, who,
among other rather unexpected literary occupations, devoted himself to
Abelard, Thomas à Becket, and other representatives of scholasticism,
illustrate this tendency. The philosophy of the middle ages was also the
subject of one of the clearest and best-written of philosophical studies, the
De la Philosophie Scolastique of B. Hauréau. The name, however, of the
century in French philosophical literature is that of Auguste Comte, the
founder of what is called Positivism. He was born at Montpelier three or
important tasks. A great deal of excellent work in the same direction has
been done in Belgium by members of the various Academies. The great
classics of France, from the sixteenth century onward, have been the object
of constant and careful editing, such as the classics of no other country have
enjoyed. Nor has the linguistic part of the study been omitted. The two chief
monuments of this are the great dictionary of Littré, and the complement of
it, now in course of publication, by M. Godefroy, which contains a
complete lexicon of the older tongue. Among the collections of old French
literature, the Bibliothèque Elzévirienne may be especially noticed. This,
besides many reprints of isolated authors, contains invaluable examples of
the early theatre, a still more precious collection of scattered poems of the
fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, and one of miscellanies of the sixteenth
and seventeenth. Under the Empire the government began the publication of
all the Chansons de Gestes, but the enterprise was unfortunately interrupted
at the tenth volume.
The branches of literature, other than the Belles Lettres,
which naturally retain, longer than those which busy Philosophical
themselves with science as it is now understood, the Writers.
literary interest, are philosophy, theology, and history. In
philosophy France has produced, during the present Comte.
century, only one name of the first importance. As has been the case with all
other European nations, her philosophical energies have chiefly been
devoted to the historical side of philosophy, a tendency specially
encouraged by the already-mentioned influence of Cousin. Damiron, the
chief authority in French on the materialist schools of the eighteenth
century; M. Jules Simon and Vacherot, who busied themselves chiefly with
the Alexandrian philosophers—Cousin it should be remembered was the
editor of Proclus—and Charles de Rémusat, a man of great capacity, who,
among other rather unexpected literary occupations, devoted himself to
Abelard, Thomas à Becket, and other representatives of scholasticism,
illustrate this tendency. The philosophy of the middle ages was also the
subject of one of the clearest and best-written of philosophical studies, the
De la Philosophie Scolastique of B. Hauréau. The name, however, of the
century in French philosophical literature is that of Auguste Comte, the
founder of what is called Positivism. He was born at Montpelier three or
Page 578
four years before the end of the last century, and died at Paris in September,
1857. Comte passed through the discipline of initiation in the Saint
Simonian views—Saint Simon was a descendant of the great writer of that
name, who developed a curious form of communism very interesting
politically, but important to literature only from the remarkable influence it
had upon his contemporaries—but, like most of Saint Simon's disciples,
soon emancipated himself. To discuss Comte's philosophical views would
be impossible here. It is sufficient to say that the cardinal principle of his
earlier work, the Cours de Philosophie Positive, is that the world of thought
has passed through successively a theological stage and a metaphysical
stage, and is now reduced to the observation and classification of
phenomena and their relations. On the basis cleared by this sweeping
hypothesis, Comte, in his later days (under the inspiration of a lady,
Madame Clotilde de Vaux, if he himself be believed), developed a
remarkable construction of positive religion. This was indignantly rejected
by his most acute followers, the chief of whom was the philologist and
critic Littré. Outside of Comtism, France has not produced many writers on
philosophy, except philosophical historians. M. Taine, in his De
l'Intelligence, turned his acute intellect and ready pen in this direction for a
moment, but not with much success. Perhaps from the literary view the
most important philosophical writer in French for the last half century is M.
Renan, who will find his place more appropriately in the next paragraph.
Between Saint Simon and Comte, if space allowed, notice would have to be
taken of many political writers of the middle of the century, whose
visionary and for the most part communistic views had a considerable but
passing influence, such as Cabet, Fourier, Pierre Leroux, and the violent
and not wholly sane but vigorous Proudhon. Here, however, nothing but
bare mention, and that only for completeness' sake, can be given to them.
In theology, as represented in literature, the dominant
interest of the period belongs at first to the continuators Theological
Writers.
of the Liberal-Catholic school of Lamennais. The Montalembert.
greatest of these, beyond all question, was Charles
Forbes de Montalembert, whose mother was a
Ozanam.
Scotchwoman, and his father French ambassador in
Sweden. He was born in April, 1810, and died on the
Lacordaire.
13th of March, 1870. Montalembert was young enough
1857. Comte passed through the discipline of initiation in the Saint
Simonian views—Saint Simon was a descendant of the great writer of that
name, who developed a curious form of communism very interesting
politically, but important to literature only from the remarkable influence it
had upon his contemporaries—but, like most of Saint Simon's disciples,
soon emancipated himself. To discuss Comte's philosophical views would
be impossible here. It is sufficient to say that the cardinal principle of his
earlier work, the Cours de Philosophie Positive, is that the world of thought
has passed through successively a theological stage and a metaphysical
stage, and is now reduced to the observation and classification of
phenomena and their relations. On the basis cleared by this sweeping
hypothesis, Comte, in his later days (under the inspiration of a lady,
Madame Clotilde de Vaux, if he himself be believed), developed a
remarkable construction of positive religion. This was indignantly rejected
by his most acute followers, the chief of whom was the philologist and
critic Littré. Outside of Comtism, France has not produced many writers on
philosophy, except philosophical historians. M. Taine, in his De
l'Intelligence, turned his acute intellect and ready pen in this direction for a
moment, but not with much success. Perhaps from the literary view the
most important philosophical writer in French for the last half century is M.
Renan, who will find his place more appropriately in the next paragraph.
Between Saint Simon and Comte, if space allowed, notice would have to be
taken of many political writers of the middle of the century, whose
visionary and for the most part communistic views had a considerable but
passing influence, such as Cabet, Fourier, Pierre Leroux, and the violent
and not wholly sane but vigorous Proudhon. Here, however, nothing but
bare mention, and that only for completeness' sake, can be given to them.
In theology, as represented in literature, the dominant
interest of the period belongs at first to the continuators Theological
Writers.
of the Liberal-Catholic school of Lamennais. The Montalembert.
greatest of these, beyond all question, was Charles
Forbes de Montalembert, whose mother was a
Ozanam.
Scotchwoman, and his father French ambassador in
Sweden. He was born in April, 1810, and died on the
Lacordaire.
13th of March, 1870. Montalembert was young enough
Page 579
to come under the influence of Lamennais only
indirectly, and at the extreme end of that writer's Ernest Renan.
orthodox period. His immediate master was rather the
eloquent Abbé Lacordaire. His father was a peer of France, and
Montalembert succeeded early to his position, which gave him an
opportunity of supporting the great contention of the Liberal Catholics
under Louis Philippe, the right to establish schools for themselves. Being
devoted first of all to the defence of ecclesiastical interests by every
legitimate means, and having no anti-Republican prejudices, Montalembert
was able to accept the second Revolution, though not the Second Empire,
and he continued to be one of the most moderate, but dangerous, opponents
of the government of Napoleon III. His chief works, which have much
brilliancy and vigour, are his 'Life of Elizabeth of Hungary,' his 'Life and
Times of St. Anselm,' his Avenir Politique de l'Angleterre, and, most of all,
his great work on 'The Monks of the West from St. Benedict to St. Bernard.'
A fellow worker with Montalembert, though earlier cut off, was Frédéric
Ozanam, a brilliant student and lecturer in mediaeval history, who was the
chief literary critic of the Neo-Catholic movement during the later years of
Louis Philippe's reign. Ozanam's chief work was his study on Dante. About
this time a considerable resurrection of pulpit eloquence took place. Its
chief representative was the already-mentioned Jean Baptiste Henri
Lacordaire, who was born in 1802, and died in 1861. Lacordaire was a
partner of Lamennais in the Avenir. But, unlike his master, he took the papal
reproof obediently, and continued to preach in the orthodox sense. He
entered the order of St. Dominic in 1840, but was nevertheless elected to
the Assembly, in 1848, as a compliment, doubtless, to the fervent radicalism
he had displayed earlier. Lacordaire's literary reputation is almost entirely
confined to his sermons, the most famous of which were preached at Notre
Dame. Other celebrated preachers of the middle of the century were, on the
Catholic side, the Père Félix, and on the Protestant, Athanase Coquerel. Of
the extreme orthodox party, during the Second Empire, the chief names
from the point of view of literature were those of Monseigneur Dupanloup,
bishop of Orleans, and the journalist, Louis Veuillot. The former, one of the
most eloquent and one of the ablest men of his time in France, began with a
certain liberalism, but gradually hardened into extremer views,
distinguishing himself in his place in the Academy by violent opposition to
the admission of M. Littré, as a positivist. The latter, as editor of the journal
indirectly, and at the extreme end of that writer's Ernest Renan.
orthodox period. His immediate master was rather the
eloquent Abbé Lacordaire. His father was a peer of France, and
Montalembert succeeded early to his position, which gave him an
opportunity of supporting the great contention of the Liberal Catholics
under Louis Philippe, the right to establish schools for themselves. Being
devoted first of all to the defence of ecclesiastical interests by every
legitimate means, and having no anti-Republican prejudices, Montalembert
was able to accept the second Revolution, though not the Second Empire,
and he continued to be one of the most moderate, but dangerous, opponents
of the government of Napoleon III. His chief works, which have much
brilliancy and vigour, are his 'Life of Elizabeth of Hungary,' his 'Life and
Times of St. Anselm,' his Avenir Politique de l'Angleterre, and, most of all,
his great work on 'The Monks of the West from St. Benedict to St. Bernard.'
A fellow worker with Montalembert, though earlier cut off, was Frédéric
Ozanam, a brilliant student and lecturer in mediaeval history, who was the
chief literary critic of the Neo-Catholic movement during the later years of
Louis Philippe's reign. Ozanam's chief work was his study on Dante. About
this time a considerable resurrection of pulpit eloquence took place. Its
chief representative was the already-mentioned Jean Baptiste Henri
Lacordaire, who was born in 1802, and died in 1861. Lacordaire was a
partner of Lamennais in the Avenir. But, unlike his master, he took the papal
reproof obediently, and continued to preach in the orthodox sense. He
entered the order of St. Dominic in 1840, but was nevertheless elected to
the Assembly, in 1848, as a compliment, doubtless, to the fervent radicalism
he had displayed earlier. Lacordaire's literary reputation is almost entirely
confined to his sermons, the most famous of which were preached at Notre
Dame. Other celebrated preachers of the middle of the century were, on the
Catholic side, the Père Félix, and on the Protestant, Athanase Coquerel. Of
the extreme orthodox party, during the Second Empire, the chief names
from the point of view of literature were those of Monseigneur Dupanloup,
bishop of Orleans, and the journalist, Louis Veuillot. The former, one of the
most eloquent and one of the ablest men of his time in France, began with a
certain liberalism, but gradually hardened into extremer views,
distinguishing himself in his place in the Academy by violent opposition to
the admission of M. Littré, as a positivist. The latter, as editor of the journal
Page 580
L'Univers, brought remarkable wit and a faculty of slashing criticism, not
often equalled, to the service of his party, indulging, however, too often in
mere scurrility. From this same literary point of view, the chief name in the
theological literature of this period is once more on the unorthodox side.
Since the days of Joseph de Maistre the church had far more than held her
own in the literary arena; but the discouragement given at Rome to the
followers of Lamennais seemed to bring ill luck with it. Ernest Renan, who,
with some faults, is one of the most remarkable masters of French style in
our time, was born in 1823, at Tréguier in Britanny. He was intended for the
priesthood, and was educated for the most part at clerical seminaries. On
arriving, however, at manhood, he did not feel inclined to take orders;
accepted the place of usher at a school, and soon distinguished himself by
linguistic studies, especially on the Semitic languages. He also exercised
himself a good deal in literary criticism and as a journalist of all work on
the staffs of the Journal des Débats and the Revue des Deux-Mondes. His
first really remarkable work, published in 1850, is Averroès et l'Averroïsme,
a book injured by the author's want of sympathy with the thought of the
middle ages, but full of research and of reflection. This gained him a post in
the Paris Library. He then produced several works, dealing more or less
with the Hebrew Scriptures. In 1860 he had a government mission to
Phoenicia and Palestine, which enabled him to examine the Holy Land very
attentively. On his return he was appointed to the chair of Hebrew at the
Collège de France, but the outcry against his unorthodoxy was so great that
he was suspended. He began about this time to publish his famous series of
Origines du Christianisme with, for a first volume, a Vie de Jésus, imbued
with a curious kind of eclectic and romantic rationalism. This has been
followed by numerous volumes dealing with the early ages of Christianity.
In 1870 he made himself conspicuous by a letter to Strauss on the subject of
the Franco-German War. After the catastrophe he confined himself for a
time to literary and philosophical studies. Recently, however, besides
working at his Origines, which are now completed, he has produced some
half-political, half-fanciful studies of great literary excellence, such as
Caliban, a satire on democracy, and La Fontaine de Jouvence, a brilliant
mediaeval fantasy-piece, covering a violent attack on Germany. M. Renan
is, in point of style, perhaps the most considerable prose writer of France
now living who is a prose writer only. His prejudices are strong, and his
strictly argumentative and logical faculty rather weak. In temperament he is
often equalled, to the service of his party, indulging, however, too often in
mere scurrility. From this same literary point of view, the chief name in the
theological literature of this period is once more on the unorthodox side.
Since the days of Joseph de Maistre the church had far more than held her
own in the literary arena; but the discouragement given at Rome to the
followers of Lamennais seemed to bring ill luck with it. Ernest Renan, who,
with some faults, is one of the most remarkable masters of French style in
our time, was born in 1823, at Tréguier in Britanny. He was intended for the
priesthood, and was educated for the most part at clerical seminaries. On
arriving, however, at manhood, he did not feel inclined to take orders;
accepted the place of usher at a school, and soon distinguished himself by
linguistic studies, especially on the Semitic languages. He also exercised
himself a good deal in literary criticism and as a journalist of all work on
the staffs of the Journal des Débats and the Revue des Deux-Mondes. His
first really remarkable work, published in 1850, is Averroès et l'Averroïsme,
a book injured by the author's want of sympathy with the thought of the
middle ages, but full of research and of reflection. This gained him a post in
the Paris Library. He then produced several works, dealing more or less
with the Hebrew Scriptures. In 1860 he had a government mission to
Phoenicia and Palestine, which enabled him to examine the Holy Land very
attentively. On his return he was appointed to the chair of Hebrew at the
Collège de France, but the outcry against his unorthodoxy was so great that
he was suspended. He began about this time to publish his famous series of
Origines du Christianisme with, for a first volume, a Vie de Jésus, imbued
with a curious kind of eclectic and romantic rationalism. This has been
followed by numerous volumes dealing with the early ages of Christianity.
In 1870 he made himself conspicuous by a letter to Strauss on the subject of
the Franco-German War. After the catastrophe he confined himself for a
time to literary and philosophical studies. Recently, however, besides
working at his Origines, which are now completed, he has produced some
half-political, half-fanciful studies of great literary excellence, such as
Caliban, a satire on democracy, and La Fontaine de Jouvence, a brilliant
mediaeval fantasy-piece, covering a violent attack on Germany. M. Renan
is, in point of style, perhaps the most considerable prose writer of France
now living who is a prose writer only. His prejudices are strong, and his
strictly argumentative and logical faculty rather weak. In temperament he is
Page 581
what may be called a sentimental rationalist. But his literary knowledge is
extraordinarily wide and very accurate, while his literary sympathies,
though somewhat irregular in their operation, are warm. These peculiarities
reflect themselves in his style, which is a direct descendant of that of
Rousseau through M. Renan's own countryman, Chateaubriand. As a
describer of scenery he is unmatched among his contemporaries. He has an
extraordinary power of vivid and interesting narration inclining somewhat
to the over-picturesque. No one is able more cleverly to seize on the most
striking and telling features of a landscape, a book, a character, and, by
adroit dwelling on these, to present the whole as vividly as possible to his
readers. No one again is more thoroughly master of a certain rather vague
but telling eloquence which deals chiefly with the moral feelings and the
domestic affections, and exercises an amiably softening influence on those
who submit themselves to it. M. Renan in style is rather an orator than a
writer, though the extreme care and finish which he bestows on his work
give him a high place in literature proper.
In history a group of distinguished names, besides a still
larger number of names only less individually Historians. Thierry.
distinguished, deserve notice. First among these, in order
of time, may be mentioned the two brothers Amédée and Augustin Thierry,
the former of whom was born in 1787, and died in 1873, while the latter,
born in 1795, died in 1856. Both devoted themselves to historical studies.
But, while Amédée employed himself almost wholly on the history of Gaul
during Roman times and on Roman history, Augustin, who was by far the
more gifted of the two, took a wider range. He was born and educated at
Blois, and for some time devoted himself to politics and sociology, being a
disciple of Saint Simon, and a fellow-worker of Comte. He soon, however,
betook himself to history, and in 1825 published his 'History of the Norman
Conquest in England.' Blindness followed, but he was able to continue his
work. In 1835 he published Dix Ans d'Etudes Historiques, and in 1840,
what is perhaps his best work, Récits des Temps Mérovingiens, a book
which has few rivals as exhibiting in a fascinating light, but without any
sacrifice of historical accuracy to mere picturesqueness, the circumstances
and events of an unfamiliar time. His last work of importance was an essay
on the Tiers Etat and its origin. Thierry is an excellent example of an
extraordinarily wide and very accurate, while his literary sympathies,
though somewhat irregular in their operation, are warm. These peculiarities
reflect themselves in his style, which is a direct descendant of that of
Rousseau through M. Renan's own countryman, Chateaubriand. As a
describer of scenery he is unmatched among his contemporaries. He has an
extraordinary power of vivid and interesting narration inclining somewhat
to the over-picturesque. No one is able more cleverly to seize on the most
striking and telling features of a landscape, a book, a character, and, by
adroit dwelling on these, to present the whole as vividly as possible to his
readers. No one again is more thoroughly master of a certain rather vague
but telling eloquence which deals chiefly with the moral feelings and the
domestic affections, and exercises an amiably softening influence on those
who submit themselves to it. M. Renan in style is rather an orator than a
writer, though the extreme care and finish which he bestows on his work
give him a high place in literature proper.
In history a group of distinguished names, besides a still
larger number of names only less individually Historians. Thierry.
distinguished, deserve notice. First among these, in order
of time, may be mentioned the two brothers Amédée and Augustin Thierry,
the former of whom was born in 1787, and died in 1873, while the latter,
born in 1795, died in 1856. Both devoted themselves to historical studies.
But, while Amédée employed himself almost wholly on the history of Gaul
during Roman times and on Roman history, Augustin, who was by far the
more gifted of the two, took a wider range. He was born and educated at
Blois, and for some time devoted himself to politics and sociology, being a
disciple of Saint Simon, and a fellow-worker of Comte. He soon, however,
betook himself to history, and in 1825 published his 'History of the Norman
Conquest in England.' Blindness followed, but he was able to continue his
work. In 1835 he published Dix Ans d'Etudes Historiques, and in 1840,
what is perhaps his best work, Récits des Temps Mérovingiens, a book
which has few rivals as exhibiting in a fascinating light, but without any
sacrifice of historical accuracy to mere picturesqueness, the circumstances
and events of an unfamiliar time. His last work of importance was an essay
on the Tiers Etat and its origin. Thierry is an excellent example of an
Page 582
historian handling, with little guidance from predecessors, a difficult and
neglected but important age.
Far less important as a historian, but distinguished by his
double character of statesman and littérateur, in which Thiers.
he was more fortunate than his two rivals in the same
double career, Guizot and Lamartine, was Louis Adolphe Thiers, who was
born at Marseilles, of the lower middle class, in 1797. He was brought up
for the law, being educated at Marseilles and at Aix. Then he went to Paris,
and after a short time obtained work on the Constitutionnel as supporter of
the liberal opposition during the Restoration. His Histoire de la Révolution
Française appeared between 1823-1827, and brought him much reputation,
which was very ill deserved as far as fulness and accuracy of information
are concerned. French readers, however, have ever been indifferent to mere
accuracy, and are given to admire even a superficial appearance of order
and clearness; at any rate, the book, added to his considerable reputation as
a political writer, made him famous. A paper, which he founded in the
beginning of 1830, the National, had much share in bringing about the
Revolution of that year. After it Thiers was elected to the Chamber of
Deputies for Aix, and in a short time became a renowned debater. He held
office again and again under Louis Philippe, and was believed to be in
favour of a warlike policy. When he retired from office he began his
principal literary work (a continuation of his first), 'The History of the
Consulate and the Empire.' He took no part in the Revolution of 1848, and
accepted the Republic, but was banished at the coup d'état, though not for
long. In 1863 he re-entered the Chamber, having constantly worked at his
History, which tended not a little to reconstruct the Napoleonic legend. Yet
he was a steady though a moderate opponent of the Second Empire. On its
downfall, Thiers, as the most distinguished statesman the country
possessed, undertook the negotiations with the enemy—a difficult task,
which he performed with extreme ability. He then became President of the
Republic, which post he held till 1873. He died on the 3rd of September,
1877. The chief fault of Thiers as a historian is his misleading partiality,
which is especially displayed in his account of Napoleon's wars, and
reaches its climax in that of the battle of Waterloo. He has, however, great
merits in lucidity of arrangement, in an eloquent, if rather declamatory
neglected but important age.
Far less important as a historian, but distinguished by his
double character of statesman and littérateur, in which Thiers.
he was more fortunate than his two rivals in the same
double career, Guizot and Lamartine, was Louis Adolphe Thiers, who was
born at Marseilles, of the lower middle class, in 1797. He was brought up
for the law, being educated at Marseilles and at Aix. Then he went to Paris,
and after a short time obtained work on the Constitutionnel as supporter of
the liberal opposition during the Restoration. His Histoire de la Révolution
Française appeared between 1823-1827, and brought him much reputation,
which was very ill deserved as far as fulness and accuracy of information
are concerned. French readers, however, have ever been indifferent to mere
accuracy, and are given to admire even a superficial appearance of order
and clearness; at any rate, the book, added to his considerable reputation as
a political writer, made him famous. A paper, which he founded in the
beginning of 1830, the National, had much share in bringing about the
Revolution of that year. After it Thiers was elected to the Chamber of
Deputies for Aix, and in a short time became a renowned debater. He held
office again and again under Louis Philippe, and was believed to be in
favour of a warlike policy. When he retired from office he began his
principal literary work (a continuation of his first), 'The History of the
Consulate and the Empire.' He took no part in the Revolution of 1848, and
accepted the Republic, but was banished at the coup d'état, though not for
long. In 1863 he re-entered the Chamber, having constantly worked at his
History, which tended not a little to reconstruct the Napoleonic legend. Yet
he was a steady though a moderate opponent of the Second Empire. On its
downfall, Thiers, as the most distinguished statesman the country
possessed, undertook the negotiations with the enemy—a difficult task,
which he performed with extreme ability. He then became President of the
Republic, which post he held till 1873. He died on the 3rd of September,
1877. The chief fault of Thiers as a historian is his misleading partiality,
which is especially displayed in his account of Napoleon's wars, and
reaches its climax in that of the battle of Waterloo. He has, however, great
merits in lucidity of arrangement, in an eloquent, if rather declamatory
Page 583
style, and in a faculty of conveying a considerable amount of information
without breaking the march of his narrative.
By a curious coincidence, the chief rival of Thiers in
politics (at least during the greater part of his life) was of Guizot
his own class and condition, and, like him, primarily a
man of letters. François Pierre Guillaume Guizot was, however, ten years
the senior of Thiers, having been born in 1787, at Nîmes. Guizot was a
Protestant, and his father perished in the Terror. He was educated at
Geneva, but went to Paris early, and produced in 1809 (being then only
twenty-two) a dictionary of synonyms. After this he did miscellaneous
literary work of various kinds, and at the Restoration filled, as a moderate
Royalist, various posts under government, being appointed, among other
things, to a history professorship at the Sorbonne. He became more and
more liberal, and in 1824 his lectures were forbidden. His literary activity,
was, however, incessant, his greatest work being a collection of early
French historical writings in thirty-one volumes. He also paid much
attention to the history of England, and published, in 1826, a Histoire de la
Révolution d'Angleterre. This was followed by many other works, of which
his 'History of Civilisation in Europe,' and 'History of Civilisation in
France,' are the best known. He had been elected a member of the Chamber
before the Revolution of 1830, and after it he was appointed minister of
Public Instruction, having the powerful support of the Broglie family. He
was afterwards ambassador to London, and then Prime Minister, being, it is
said, very much to blame for the Revolution of February. He escaped to
London with some difficulty, and, though he revisited France, had to return
to England at the advent of Louis Napoleon. He was not, however, a
permanent exile, but was allowed to enjoy his estate at Val Richer in
Normandy. He died in 1874, having been incessantly occupied on literary
work of all kinds (chiefly connected with French and English history) for
the last half century of his life. The chief of these in bulk was a voluminous
history of France not completed till after his death. Guizot's enormous
fertility (for not a twentieth of his works has been mentioned) perhaps
injuriously affected his style, which is not remarkable. Sound common
sense and laborious acquaintance with facts are his chief characteristics.
A companion of Thiers at college, and a protégé of his
during his years of power, was François Mignet. Born a Mignet.
without breaking the march of his narrative.
By a curious coincidence, the chief rival of Thiers in
politics (at least during the greater part of his life) was of Guizot
his own class and condition, and, like him, primarily a
man of letters. François Pierre Guillaume Guizot was, however, ten years
the senior of Thiers, having been born in 1787, at Nîmes. Guizot was a
Protestant, and his father perished in the Terror. He was educated at
Geneva, but went to Paris early, and produced in 1809 (being then only
twenty-two) a dictionary of synonyms. After this he did miscellaneous
literary work of various kinds, and at the Restoration filled, as a moderate
Royalist, various posts under government, being appointed, among other
things, to a history professorship at the Sorbonne. He became more and
more liberal, and in 1824 his lectures were forbidden. His literary activity,
was, however, incessant, his greatest work being a collection of early
French historical writings in thirty-one volumes. He also paid much
attention to the history of England, and published, in 1826, a Histoire de la
Révolution d'Angleterre. This was followed by many other works, of which
his 'History of Civilisation in Europe,' and 'History of Civilisation in
France,' are the best known. He had been elected a member of the Chamber
before the Revolution of 1830, and after it he was appointed minister of
Public Instruction, having the powerful support of the Broglie family. He
was afterwards ambassador to London, and then Prime Minister, being, it is
said, very much to blame for the Revolution of February. He escaped to
London with some difficulty, and, though he revisited France, had to return
to England at the advent of Louis Napoleon. He was not, however, a
permanent exile, but was allowed to enjoy his estate at Val Richer in
Normandy. He died in 1874, having been incessantly occupied on literary
work of all kinds (chiefly connected with French and English history) for
the last half century of his life. The chief of these in bulk was a voluminous
history of France not completed till after his death. Guizot's enormous
fertility (for not a twentieth of his works has been mentioned) perhaps
injuriously affected his style, which is not remarkable. Sound common
sense and laborious acquaintance with facts are his chief characteristics.
A companion of Thiers at college, and a protégé of his
during his years of power, was François Mignet. Born a Mignet.
Page 584
year before his friend, he outlived him. Mignet, too, wrote, and at the same
time as Thiers, a History of the French Revolution of curiously different
character. He became secretary of the Institute, and in 1837 a member of the
Academy. His chief later works were on the 'Spanish Succession,' on Mary
Stuart, and on Charles the Fifth after his abdication, with, last of all, the
rivalry of Charles V. and Francis I. Mignet is as trustworthy as Thiers is the
reverse. But his historical manner is exceedingly dry, as also is his style,
though it is correct and not inelegant.
A very different writer was Jules Michelet, the most
original and remarkable historian in point of style that Michelet.
France has ever produced. Born at Paris, in 1798, he was
also educated there, and became a schoolmaster. Soon after he came of age
he was transferred to the Ecole Normale. The Revolution of 1830, owing to
the influence of Cousin and Guizot, opened great opportunities for
historical students, and Michelet was enabled to publish not a few historical
treatises, some of a rather specialist nature, others popular abstracts of
French history. In 1838 he was appointed to a chair in the Collège de
France, and, in conjunction with his friend Quinet, he took part in the
violent polemic against the Jesuits which distinguished the time. He had
already for some years begun his strange and splendid Histoire de France,
1833-1867, but he accompanied its progress with a crowd of little books of
a controversial and miscellaneous character. Shortly before the Revolution
of 1848 he began, and soon after the coup d'état finished, his Histoire de la
Révolution. He declined to take the oaths to the Empire, and so lost the
place in the Record Office which he then held. He died in 1874, and,
notwithstanding his incessant literary activity during his life, various
unpublished works have appeared since, one of which, describing the
hunger-pinched population of the Riviera, is a masterpiece of his volcanic
style. This style is characteristic not only of his great history, but also of his
smaller books, of which Des Jésuites, Du Prêtre, Du Peuple, L'Oiseau,
L'Insecte, L'Amour, La Sorcière (the last perhaps the most remarkable of
all), are especially noteworthy. It is entirely unlike the style of any previous
French writer, except that of Lamennais, who was, however, rather
Michelet's contemporary than his predecessor, and that of Victor Hugo, in
some of his more recent work. Broken and irregular in construction, it is
extraordinarily vivid in colour, and striking in the outline of its presentment.
time as Thiers, a History of the French Revolution of curiously different
character. He became secretary of the Institute, and in 1837 a member of the
Academy. His chief later works were on the 'Spanish Succession,' on Mary
Stuart, and on Charles the Fifth after his abdication, with, last of all, the
rivalry of Charles V. and Francis I. Mignet is as trustworthy as Thiers is the
reverse. But his historical manner is exceedingly dry, as also is his style,
though it is correct and not inelegant.
A very different writer was Jules Michelet, the most
original and remarkable historian in point of style that Michelet.
France has ever produced. Born at Paris, in 1798, he was
also educated there, and became a schoolmaster. Soon after he came of age
he was transferred to the Ecole Normale. The Revolution of 1830, owing to
the influence of Cousin and Guizot, opened great opportunities for
historical students, and Michelet was enabled to publish not a few historical
treatises, some of a rather specialist nature, others popular abstracts of
French history. In 1838 he was appointed to a chair in the Collège de
France, and, in conjunction with his friend Quinet, he took part in the
violent polemic against the Jesuits which distinguished the time. He had
already for some years begun his strange and splendid Histoire de France,
1833-1867, but he accompanied its progress with a crowd of little books of
a controversial and miscellaneous character. Shortly before the Revolution
of 1848 he began, and soon after the coup d'état finished, his Histoire de la
Révolution. He declined to take the oaths to the Empire, and so lost the
place in the Record Office which he then held. He died in 1874, and,
notwithstanding his incessant literary activity during his life, various
unpublished works have appeared since, one of which, describing the
hunger-pinched population of the Riviera, is a masterpiece of his volcanic
style. This style is characteristic not only of his great history, but also of his
smaller books, of which Des Jésuites, Du Prêtre, Du Peuple, L'Oiseau,
L'Insecte, L'Amour, La Sorcière (the last perhaps the most remarkable of
all), are especially noteworthy. It is entirely unlike the style of any previous
French writer, except that of Lamennais, who was, however, rather
Michelet's contemporary than his predecessor, and that of Victor Hugo, in
some of his more recent work. Broken and irregular in construction, it is
extraordinarily vivid in colour, and striking in the outline of its presentment.
Page 585
The History of France is a book to which little justice can be done in the
space here available. It is strongly prejudiced by Michelet's republican and
anti-Catholic views, and, like all picturesque histories, it brings into undue
relief incidents and personages which have happened to strike the author's
imagination. But it is extraordinarily stimulating, full of energy and life, and
almost unequalled in the power with which the writer restores and revives
the past.
A bosom friend of Michelet, and his compeer in the
attack on the Jesuits, was Edgar Quinet, who was born Quinet.
near Bourg in 1803, and died in 1875. He was brought
up for the most part at his country home in a retired situation, where he
early showed not only great devotion to literature, but a curious tendency
towards philosophic mysticism. He travelled in Germany when young, and
his translation of Herder's Philosophie der Geschichte introduced him to
Cousin, and gave him some profit and much reputation. He was sent to
Greece on a government mission, and after a time received a professorship,
first at Lyons, and then at Paris, though his republicanism did not
recommend him. He was an active supporter of the Revolution of February,
and a consistent opponent of the Empire, during which he remained in
exile. Quinet's works, both in poetry and prose, are numerous. The chief are
a great prose poem, or dramatic allegory, called Ahasuerus, 1834, a work on
the early French epics (insufficiently informed, but appreciative and
enthusiastic), Le Génie des Religions, 1843 (a series of discourses full of
the widest and vaguest generalisation, but stimulating and generous), Les
Révolutions d'Italie, Merlin l'Enchanteur, 1861 (another curious book
something after the fashion of Ahasuerus), a nondescript miscellany on
history and science entitled La Création, 1869, and La Révolution, 1865.
His poems (in verse) are Prométhée, Napoléon, Les Esclaves, of which the
first and last are dramatic in form. His style and thought were strongly
tinged with mysticism, and with a singular undogmatic pietism, as well as
with strong but speculative republicanism in politics. He is thus not a
historian to consult for facts (though his knowledge both of history and
literature was accurate and wide), but an inspiriting generaliser on the
philosophy of history. Both in Michelet and in Quinet there is an affectation
of the seer, as well as an undue fluency of language, and an absence of
precision in form and place, which detract from their otherwise high literary
space here available. It is strongly prejudiced by Michelet's republican and
anti-Catholic views, and, like all picturesque histories, it brings into undue
relief incidents and personages which have happened to strike the author's
imagination. But it is extraordinarily stimulating, full of energy and life, and
almost unequalled in the power with which the writer restores and revives
the past.
A bosom friend of Michelet, and his compeer in the
attack on the Jesuits, was Edgar Quinet, who was born Quinet.
near Bourg in 1803, and died in 1875. He was brought
up for the most part at his country home in a retired situation, where he
early showed not only great devotion to literature, but a curious tendency
towards philosophic mysticism. He travelled in Germany when young, and
his translation of Herder's Philosophie der Geschichte introduced him to
Cousin, and gave him some profit and much reputation. He was sent to
Greece on a government mission, and after a time received a professorship,
first at Lyons, and then at Paris, though his republicanism did not
recommend him. He was an active supporter of the Revolution of February,
and a consistent opponent of the Empire, during which he remained in
exile. Quinet's works, both in poetry and prose, are numerous. The chief are
a great prose poem, or dramatic allegory, called Ahasuerus, 1834, a work on
the early French epics (insufficiently informed, but appreciative and
enthusiastic), Le Génie des Religions, 1843 (a series of discourses full of
the widest and vaguest generalisation, but stimulating and generous), Les
Révolutions d'Italie, Merlin l'Enchanteur, 1861 (another curious book
something after the fashion of Ahasuerus), a nondescript miscellany on
history and science entitled La Création, 1869, and La Révolution, 1865.
His poems (in verse) are Prométhée, Napoléon, Les Esclaves, of which the
first and last are dramatic in form. His style and thought were strongly
tinged with mysticism, and with a singular undogmatic pietism, as well as
with strong but speculative republicanism in politics. He is thus not a
historian to consult for facts (though his knowledge both of history and
literature was accurate and wide), but an inspiriting generaliser on the
philosophy of history. Both in Michelet and in Quinet there is an affectation
of the seer, as well as an undue fluency of language, and an absence of
precision in form and place, which detract from their otherwise high literary
Page 586
value. The collected works of the first exceed fifty volumes, those of the
second fill nearly thirty; and much of this vast total is ephemeral in interest
and unchastened in form. Although neither was a journalist, both exhibit the
defects of a period of journalism.
The last of the greater names calling for mention is that
of Alexis de Tocqueville, who was born, of a noble Tocqueville.
Norman family, at Verneuil, in 1805. Tocqueville was
educated for the bar, and called to it after the Restoration. But after the
revolution of July he exchanged his appointment in the magistracy for a
travelling mission to America, to examine the prisons and penitentiaries of
the United States. He, however, studied something else than prisons, and, in
1835, published his famous work on 'Democracy in America.' He married
an Englishwoman, and soon afterwards entered the Chamber. During the
Republic he occupied positions of some importance. The Empire dismissed
him from public life, but gave him the opportunity of writing his second
great book on the Ancien Régime. His health was, however, weak, and he
died, in 1859, of consumption. The characteristics of Tocqueville as a
historian (or rather as a philosophic essayist on history) are great purity and
clearness of style, unusual logical power, and an entire absence of
prepossession. He is one of the few historians who have treated democracy
without either enthusiastic love for it on the one hand, or fanatical dislike
and fear of it on the other; and his two books are, and are likely to remain,
classics.
A very rapid survey must suffice for the remainder of the
names in this division. A. de Barante, among numerous Minor Historians.
other works of merit, is best known by a careful and
detailed history of the Dukes of Burgundy; J. A. Buchon, Petitot, J. A.
Michaud, and J. Poujoulat, produced invaluable collections of the
chronicles and memoirs in which France is so rich. J. J. Ampère occupied
himself chiefly with Roman history, and with the history of France and
French literature in the Gallo-Roman time. A. Beugnot, besides other work,
arranged a precious collection of feudal law. Emile de Bonnechose wrote a
good short history of France. Louis Blanc (an important actor in the
Revolution of 1848) produced an elaborate and well-written history of the
Revolution from the moderate republican side, and afterwards reprinted
from newspapers some curious letters from England during his exile here.
second fill nearly thirty; and much of this vast total is ephemeral in interest
and unchastened in form. Although neither was a journalist, both exhibit the
defects of a period of journalism.
The last of the greater names calling for mention is that
of Alexis de Tocqueville, who was born, of a noble Tocqueville.
Norman family, at Verneuil, in 1805. Tocqueville was
educated for the bar, and called to it after the Restoration. But after the
revolution of July he exchanged his appointment in the magistracy for a
travelling mission to America, to examine the prisons and penitentiaries of
the United States. He, however, studied something else than prisons, and, in
1835, published his famous work on 'Democracy in America.' He married
an Englishwoman, and soon afterwards entered the Chamber. During the
Republic he occupied positions of some importance. The Empire dismissed
him from public life, but gave him the opportunity of writing his second
great book on the Ancien Régime. His health was, however, weak, and he
died, in 1859, of consumption. The characteristics of Tocqueville as a
historian (or rather as a philosophic essayist on history) are great purity and
clearness of style, unusual logical power, and an entire absence of
prepossession. He is one of the few historians who have treated democracy
without either enthusiastic love for it on the one hand, or fanatical dislike
and fear of it on the other; and his two books are, and are likely to remain,
classics.
A very rapid survey must suffice for the remainder of the
names in this division. A. de Barante, among numerous Minor Historians.
other works of merit, is best known by a careful and
detailed history of the Dukes of Burgundy; J. A. Buchon, Petitot, J. A.
Michaud, and J. Poujoulat, produced invaluable collections of the
chronicles and memoirs in which France is so rich. J. J. Ampère occupied
himself chiefly with Roman history, and with the history of France and
French literature in the Gallo-Roman time. A. Beugnot, besides other work,
arranged a precious collection of feudal law. Emile de Bonnechose wrote a
good short history of France. Louis Blanc (an important actor in the
Revolution of 1848) produced an elaborate and well-written history of the
Revolution from the moderate republican side, and afterwards reprinted
from newspapers some curious letters from England during his exile here.
Page 587
In opposition chiefly to Thiers, P. Lanfrey, in a laborious history of
Napoleon, entirely overthrew the Napoleonic legend, and damaged, it
would seem irreparably, the character of its hero. Philippe de Ségur gave a
history of the Russian campaign of Napoleon. Mortimer-Ternaux
accomplished a valuable history of the Terror. M. Henri Martin was the
author of the only recent history of France on a scale which challenges
comparison with Michelet. It has no extraordinary literary merit, and its
author was something of a partisan. But it is full, sober, and fairly accurate.
In recent days M. Taine, deserting literary and philosophical criticism for
history, executed a new and remarkable history of the Revolution, which,
by once more putting its horrors in a clear and fair light, very much irritated
the partisans of the 'ideas of 89.' The Duke d'Aumale has made something
more than a mere addition to the works of 'Royal and Noble Authors,' in his
History of the Princes of Condé. The Duke de Broglie, a politician, upon
whom the political changes of France enforced political retirement, has
produced a series of historical works on the 18th century and has edited the
interesting memoirs of his father, the patron of Guizot. Of other recent
memoirs by far the most remarkable, whether as literature or history, are
those of Madame de Rémusat, mother of Charles de Rémusat, who died
early in the Restoration period, but whose memoirs and letters, not
published till after her son's death (but already referred to here), have given
her a posthumous reputation hardly inferior to that of any of the literary
ladies before her and not likely soon to wane.
FOOTNOTES:
[292] Mérimée's work is not absolutely despicable in bulk, for it extends to some
eighteen volumes pretty closely packed. But much of these is occupied with
familiar letters, and much more with merely miscellaneous writing. His finished
and definitely literary publications do not amount to a third of the whole.
[293] In this notice of the acting drama of France, with which, as contrasted with
the literary theatre, the present writer has comparatively little acquaintance, he is
considerably indebted to Mr. Brander Matthews' useful French Dramatists of the
Nineteenth Century. London and New York; 1882.
Napoleon, entirely overthrew the Napoleonic legend, and damaged, it
would seem irreparably, the character of its hero. Philippe de Ségur gave a
history of the Russian campaign of Napoleon. Mortimer-Ternaux
accomplished a valuable history of the Terror. M. Henri Martin was the
author of the only recent history of France on a scale which challenges
comparison with Michelet. It has no extraordinary literary merit, and its
author was something of a partisan. But it is full, sober, and fairly accurate.
In recent days M. Taine, deserting literary and philosophical criticism for
history, executed a new and remarkable history of the Revolution, which,
by once more putting its horrors in a clear and fair light, very much irritated
the partisans of the 'ideas of 89.' The Duke d'Aumale has made something
more than a mere addition to the works of 'Royal and Noble Authors,' in his
History of the Princes of Condé. The Duke de Broglie, a politician, upon
whom the political changes of France enforced political retirement, has
produced a series of historical works on the 18th century and has edited the
interesting memoirs of his father, the patron of Guizot. Of other recent
memoirs by far the most remarkable, whether as literature or history, are
those of Madame de Rémusat, mother of Charles de Rémusat, who died
early in the Restoration period, but whose memoirs and letters, not
published till after her son's death (but already referred to here), have given
her a posthumous reputation hardly inferior to that of any of the literary
ladies before her and not likely soon to wane.
FOOTNOTES:
[292] Mérimée's work is not absolutely despicable in bulk, for it extends to some
eighteen volumes pretty closely packed. But much of these is occupied with
familiar letters, and much more with merely miscellaneous writing. His finished
and definitely literary publications do not amount to a third of the whole.
[293] In this notice of the acting drama of France, with which, as contrasted with
the literary theatre, the present writer has comparatively little acquaintance, he is
considerably indebted to Mr. Brander Matthews' useful French Dramatists of the
Nineteenth Century. London and New York; 1882.
Page 588
CONCLUSION.
In the five books of this History the reader has, it is believed, before him a
sufficient though necessarily brief description of the various men and works
whereof knowledge is desirable to enable him to perceive the main outlines
of the course of French literature. In the interchapters some attempt has
been made to sum up the general phenomena of that literature as
distinguished from its particular accomplishments during the chief periods
of its development. Beyond this neither the scale of the book, nor its plan as
indicated in the preface, has permitted of indulgence in generalising
criticism. But it has been suggested by authorities whose competence is not
disputable that something in the nature of a summary of these summaries,
pointing out briefly the general history, accomplishments, and peculiarities
of the French tongue in its literary aspect during the ten centuries of its
existence, is required, if only for the sake of a symmetrical conclusion. It
may be urged on the other side that the history of literature—like all other
histories, and perhaps more than all other histories—is never really
complete, and that there is consequently some danger in attempting at any
given time to treat it as finished. He must have been a miraculously acute
critic who, if he had attempted such treatment of the present subject sixty or
seventy years ago, would not have found his results ludicrously falsified by
the event but few years afterwards. But this drawback only applies to
generalisation of the pseudo-scientific kind which attempts to predict: it can
be easily guarded against by attending to the strict duties of the historian
and, without attempting to speak of the future, dealing only with the
actually accomplished past.
The first thing, and perhaps the most important thing, which must strike
anyone who looks upon French literature as a whole, is that, taking all
conditions together, it is the most complete example of a regularly and
independently developed national literature that presents itself anywhere. It
is no doubt inferior in the point of independence to Greek, but then it has a
much longer course, considered as the exponent of national character. It has
a shorter course than English, and it is not more generally expository of
national characteristics; but then it is for a great part of that course infinitely
In the five books of this History the reader has, it is believed, before him a
sufficient though necessarily brief description of the various men and works
whereof knowledge is desirable to enable him to perceive the main outlines
of the course of French literature. In the interchapters some attempt has
been made to sum up the general phenomena of that literature as
distinguished from its particular accomplishments during the chief periods
of its development. Beyond this neither the scale of the book, nor its plan as
indicated in the preface, has permitted of indulgence in generalising
criticism. But it has been suggested by authorities whose competence is not
disputable that something in the nature of a summary of these summaries,
pointing out briefly the general history, accomplishments, and peculiarities
of the French tongue in its literary aspect during the ten centuries of its
existence, is required, if only for the sake of a symmetrical conclusion. It
may be urged on the other side that the history of literature—like all other
histories, and perhaps more than all other histories—is never really
complete, and that there is consequently some danger in attempting at any
given time to treat it as finished. He must have been a miraculously acute
critic who, if he had attempted such treatment of the present subject sixty or
seventy years ago, would not have found his results ludicrously falsified by
the event but few years afterwards. But this drawback only applies to
generalisation of the pseudo-scientific kind which attempts to predict: it can
be easily guarded against by attending to the strict duties of the historian
and, without attempting to speak of the future, dealing only with the
actually accomplished past.
The first thing, and perhaps the most important thing, which must strike
anyone who looks upon French literature as a whole, is that, taking all
conditions together, it is the most complete example of a regularly and
independently developed national literature that presents itself anywhere. It
is no doubt inferior in the point of independence to Greek, but then it has a
much longer course, considered as the exponent of national character. It has
a shorter course than English, and it is not more generally expository of
national characteristics; but then it is for a great part of that course infinitely
Page 589
more independent of foreign influences, and, unlike English, it has scarcely
any breaks or dead seasons in its record. Compared with Latin (which as a
literature may be said to be entirely modelled on Greek) it is exceptionally
original: compared with Spanish and Italian it has been exceptionally long-
lived and hale in its life: compared with German it was exceptionally early
in attaining the full possession of its faculties. Just as (putting aside minor
and somewhat pedantic considerations) no country in Europe has so long
and so independently developed a political history, so in none has literary
history developed itself more independently and for a longer space of
continuous time. No foreign invasion sensibly affects the French tongue; no
foreign influence sensibly alters the course of French literature. It has been
shown at intervals during this history how little direct influence classical
models had on the original forms of literature in France, how completely
German and Celtic contributions of subject were assimilated, how the
Provençal examples of form were rather independently followed than
literally or slavishly adopted. The dawn or rather the twilight of the
Renaissance seemed to threaten a more powerful and dangerous admixture.
But the native genius of the language triumphed, and finally, in the Pléiade
reforms, reduced to harmlessness the Rhétoriqueur innovations and the
simultaneous danger of Italianising. The criticism of Malherbe, harmful in
some ways, served as a counterpoise to the danger of Spanish influence
which was considerable in the early years of the seventeenth century, and
by the eighteenth the idiosyncrasy of French was so strong that, great as
was the effect successively produced by English and by German, it was
unable to do more than slightly modify French literature itself. Yet again the
singular αυταρκεια of French may be seen by turning from its general
accomplishments at different times to its particular forms. No one of these
was directly adopted from any foreign, not even from any classical
example, with the doubtful exception of the classical tragedy. The French
made their own epic, their own lyric, their own comic and miscellaneous
drama. They may be said almost to have invented the peculiar and striking
kind of history called the memoir, which has characteristics distinguishing
it radically from the classical commentary. They apparently invented the
essay, and though they only borrowed the beast-fable, they are entitled to
the credit of having seen in it the germ of the short verse tale which has no
direct moral bearing. All the nations of Europe, so to speak, sent during the
middle ages their own raw material of subject to be worked up by French or
any breaks or dead seasons in its record. Compared with Latin (which as a
literature may be said to be entirely modelled on Greek) it is exceptionally
original: compared with Spanish and Italian it has been exceptionally long-
lived and hale in its life: compared with German it was exceptionally early
in attaining the full possession of its faculties. Just as (putting aside minor
and somewhat pedantic considerations) no country in Europe has so long
and so independently developed a political history, so in none has literary
history developed itself more independently and for a longer space of
continuous time. No foreign invasion sensibly affects the French tongue; no
foreign influence sensibly alters the course of French literature. It has been
shown at intervals during this history how little direct influence classical
models had on the original forms of literature in France, how completely
German and Celtic contributions of subject were assimilated, how the
Provençal examples of form were rather independently followed than
literally or slavishly adopted. The dawn or rather the twilight of the
Renaissance seemed to threaten a more powerful and dangerous admixture.
But the native genius of the language triumphed, and finally, in the Pléiade
reforms, reduced to harmlessness the Rhétoriqueur innovations and the
simultaneous danger of Italianising. The criticism of Malherbe, harmful in
some ways, served as a counterpoise to the danger of Spanish influence
which was considerable in the early years of the seventeenth century, and
by the eighteenth the idiosyncrasy of French was so strong that, great as
was the effect successively produced by English and by German, it was
unable to do more than slightly modify French literature itself. Yet again the
singular αυταρκεια of French may be seen by turning from its general
accomplishments at different times to its particular forms. No one of these
was directly adopted from any foreign, not even from any classical
example, with the doubtful exception of the classical tragedy. The French
made their own epic, their own lyric, their own comic and miscellaneous
drama. They may be said almost to have invented the peculiar and striking
kind of history called the memoir, which has characteristics distinguishing
it radically from the classical commentary. They apparently invented the
essay, and though they only borrowed the beast-fable, they are entitled to
the credit of having seen in it the germ of the short verse tale which has no
direct moral bearing. All the nations of Europe, so to speak, sent during the
middle ages their own raw material of subject to be worked up by French or
Page 590
French-speaking men into literary form. France therefore gives (next to
Greece, and in some respects even before Greece) the most instructive and
trustworthy example extant of the chronology and order of spontaneous
literary development—first poetry, then drama, then prose: in poetry, first
epic, then lyric, then didactic and miscellaneous verse: in drama, first
ceremonial and liturgic pieces, then comedy, then artificial tragedy: in
prose, first history, then miscellaneous work, and lastly artificial and
elaborate fiction. It is a curious and somewhat complex phenomenon that
the cycle which began with verse fiction should apparently end with fiction
in prose, but the foregoing pages will have shewn sufficiently how
dangerous it would be to generalise from this.
One thing however may be safely concluded from the mere fact of this
remarkable resistance to foreign influence, or rather from the still more
remarkable power of assimilation which this resistance implies. The
literature which has been able to exert both must have very strongly marked
general characteristics of its own. As a matter of fact French literature has
these characteristics: and a brief enumeration and description of them may
complete, more appropriately than anything else could do, the survey of its
history. French literature, notwithstanding the revolution of fifty years ago,
is generally and rightly held to be the chief representative among the greater
European literatures of the classical rather than the romantic spirit. It is
therefore necessary to define what is meant by these much controverted
terms; and the definition which best expresses the views of the present
writer is one somewhat modified from the definition given by Heine. The
terms classic and romantic apply to treatment not to subject, and the
difference is that the treatment is classic when the idea is represented as
directly and with as exact an adaptation of form as possible, while it is
romantic when the idea is left to the reader's faculty of divination assisted
only by suggestion and symbol. Of these two modes of treatment France
has always inclined to the classic: during at least two centuries, the
seventeenth and eighteenth, she relied upon it almost wholly. But the
fertility of her mediaeval and Renaissance literature in strictly romantic
examples, and the general tendency of the literature of the nineteenth
century, have shewn a romantic faculty inferior, but only inferior, to the
classical. To illustrate this statement by a contrast, it may be pointed out
that in Greek the romantic element is almost in abeyance, while in English
Greece, and in some respects even before Greece) the most instructive and
trustworthy example extant of the chronology and order of spontaneous
literary development—first poetry, then drama, then prose: in poetry, first
epic, then lyric, then didactic and miscellaneous verse: in drama, first
ceremonial and liturgic pieces, then comedy, then artificial tragedy: in
prose, first history, then miscellaneous work, and lastly artificial and
elaborate fiction. It is a curious and somewhat complex phenomenon that
the cycle which began with verse fiction should apparently end with fiction
in prose, but the foregoing pages will have shewn sufficiently how
dangerous it would be to generalise from this.
One thing however may be safely concluded from the mere fact of this
remarkable resistance to foreign influence, or rather from the still more
remarkable power of assimilation which this resistance implies. The
literature which has been able to exert both must have very strongly marked
general characteristics of its own. As a matter of fact French literature has
these characteristics: and a brief enumeration and description of them may
complete, more appropriately than anything else could do, the survey of its
history. French literature, notwithstanding the revolution of fifty years ago,
is generally and rightly held to be the chief representative among the greater
European literatures of the classical rather than the romantic spirit. It is
therefore necessary to define what is meant by these much controverted
terms; and the definition which best expresses the views of the present
writer is one somewhat modified from the definition given by Heine. The
terms classic and romantic apply to treatment not to subject, and the
difference is that the treatment is classic when the idea is represented as
directly and with as exact an adaptation of form as possible, while it is
romantic when the idea is left to the reader's faculty of divination assisted
only by suggestion and symbol. Of these two modes of treatment France
has always inclined to the classic: during at least two centuries, the
seventeenth and eighteenth, she relied upon it almost wholly. But the
fertility of her mediaeval and Renaissance literature in strictly romantic
examples, and the general tendency of the literature of the nineteenth
century, have shewn a romantic faculty inferior, but only inferior, to the
classical. To illustrate this statement by a contrast, it may be pointed out
that in Greek the romantic element is almost in abeyance, while in English
Page 591
all without exception of our greatest masterpieces have been purely
romantic. Or to put the matter in yet other words, the sense of the vague is,
among authors of the highest rank, rarely present to a Greek, always present
to an Englishman, and alternately present and absent, but oftener absent, to
a Frenchman.
The qualities which this general differentia has developed in French may
now be enumerated.
The first is a great and remarkable sobriety. It is true that there is nothing
more extravagant than an extravagant Frenchman, but that is the natural
result of reaction. As a rule, the contributions of matter which France
received so abundantly from other nations are always toned and sobered by
her in their literary formation. The main materials of her wonderful
mediaeval literature of fiction were furnished by Wales, by Germany, and
by the East; all of them, to judge by the later but more or less independent
handlings which we have from indigenous sources, must have teemed with
the supernatural. In the Chansons de Gestes, in the Arthurian romances, and
even in the earlier Romans d'Aventures, the supernatural, though recognised
as became a devout age and country, is yet to a certain extent rationalised. It
rarely obtrudes itself, and it still more rarely presents itself with
exaggerated attributes. A continual spirit of criticism exhibits itself
throughout French literature; it always, as represented by its most numerous
and on the whole most famous representatives, tends to order, to measure,
to symmetry.
The next characteristic is abundant and almost superabundant wit. The
terms wit and humour have been argued over even more than classical and
romantic, and it is equally impossible to enter into the controversy here.
Suffice it to say that, according to the most satisfactory definition of
humour (thinking in jest while feeling in earnest), wit might be defined to
be thinking in jest without interrogating the consciousness as to whether the
feeling is earnest or not. At a very early period, as soon indeed as the
French spirit had thoroughly emerged from its German-Latin-Celtic
swaddling clothes, this faculty of half reckless thinking in jest made its
appearance. In classical literature wit is notoriously absent with rare
exceptions (Aristophanes and Lucian being almost the only ones of
importance); in scarcely any other modern literature does it make its
romantic. Or to put the matter in yet other words, the sense of the vague is,
among authors of the highest rank, rarely present to a Greek, always present
to an Englishman, and alternately present and absent, but oftener absent, to
a Frenchman.
The qualities which this general differentia has developed in French may
now be enumerated.
The first is a great and remarkable sobriety. It is true that there is nothing
more extravagant than an extravagant Frenchman, but that is the natural
result of reaction. As a rule, the contributions of matter which France
received so abundantly from other nations are always toned and sobered by
her in their literary formation. The main materials of her wonderful
mediaeval literature of fiction were furnished by Wales, by Germany, and
by the East; all of them, to judge by the later but more or less independent
handlings which we have from indigenous sources, must have teemed with
the supernatural. In the Chansons de Gestes, in the Arthurian romances, and
even in the earlier Romans d'Aventures, the supernatural, though recognised
as became a devout age and country, is yet to a certain extent rationalised. It
rarely obtrudes itself, and it still more rarely presents itself with
exaggerated attributes. A continual spirit of criticism exhibits itself
throughout French literature; it always, as represented by its most numerous
and on the whole most famous representatives, tends to order, to measure,
to symmetry.
The next characteristic is abundant and almost superabundant wit. The
terms wit and humour have been argued over even more than classical and
romantic, and it is equally impossible to enter into the controversy here.
Suffice it to say that, according to the most satisfactory definition of
humour (thinking in jest while feeling in earnest), wit might be defined to
be thinking in jest without interrogating the consciousness as to whether the
feeling is earnest or not. At a very early period, as soon indeed as the
French spirit had thoroughly emerged from its German-Latin-Celtic
swaddling clothes, this faculty of half reckless thinking in jest made its
appearance. In classical literature wit is notoriously absent with rare
exceptions (Aristophanes and Lucian being almost the only ones of
importance); in scarcely any other modern literature does it make its
Page 592
appearance early. But it shows in French by the twelfth century, and it
increases during every century that succeeds: while joined to sobriety it
begets that satirical criticism, which is so noteworthy a secondary product
of French.
A third quality closely connected with the two former but not, like satirical
criticism, simply derived from them, is the close attention to form which
has always distinguished French. At the present time, despite the great
advance made by other literatures and a certain falling off in itself, French
prose is on the average superior in formal merit to any other prose written
in a modern language. If we look back for eight hundred years, French
verse is found to be more carefully and artistically arranged than the
corresponding poetical beginnings of any other European country. In the
excogitation of careful rules and the deft carrying out of those rules no
literature can on the whole approach this except Greek. No literature
therefore, with that exception, gives so much of the pleasure which is given
by the spectacle of not unreasonable difficulty skilfully overcome in a game
which is well played.
A fourth merit is to be found in the inventiveness of Frenchmen of letters. In
no literature is there a greater variety, and in none is that variety so
obviously the effect not of happy blundering but of organised and almost
scientific development of the possibilities of art. The wonderful fertility
with which the early Trouvères handled and re-handled the motives of the
Arthurian and Carlovingian legends has been noticed; and, as a very
different but complementary instance, the surprising success and variety
with which a scheme so limited as that of the classical tragedy was applied,
deserves mention. At the present day in one important department of
literature (the drama) inventiveness is almost limited to Frenchmen, and
there are few periods of their present history at which they have not in this
respect led the van in one department or in another.
Yet another characteristic must be noted, which is, in respect to matter, the
complement of the already mentioned attention to form. This is the singular
clearness and precision with which not merely the greatest Frenchmen of
letters, but all save the least, are accustomed to put their meaning. Whereas
the two great classical languages, from the licence of order given by their
abundant inflections and complicated syntax, are sometimes enigmatic;
increases during every century that succeeds: while joined to sobriety it
begets that satirical criticism, which is so noteworthy a secondary product
of French.
A third quality closely connected with the two former but not, like satirical
criticism, simply derived from them, is the close attention to form which
has always distinguished French. At the present time, despite the great
advance made by other literatures and a certain falling off in itself, French
prose is on the average superior in formal merit to any other prose written
in a modern language. If we look back for eight hundred years, French
verse is found to be more carefully and artistically arranged than the
corresponding poetical beginnings of any other European country. In the
excogitation of careful rules and the deft carrying out of those rules no
literature can on the whole approach this except Greek. No literature
therefore, with that exception, gives so much of the pleasure which is given
by the spectacle of not unreasonable difficulty skilfully overcome in a game
which is well played.
A fourth merit is to be found in the inventiveness of Frenchmen of letters. In
no literature is there a greater variety, and in none is that variety so
obviously the effect not of happy blundering but of organised and almost
scientific development of the possibilities of art. The wonderful fertility
with which the early Trouvères handled and re-handled the motives of the
Arthurian and Carlovingian legends has been noticed; and, as a very
different but complementary instance, the surprising success and variety
with which a scheme so limited as that of the classical tragedy was applied,
deserves mention. At the present day in one important department of
literature (the drama) inventiveness is almost limited to Frenchmen, and
there are few periods of their present history at which they have not in this
respect led the van in one department or in another.
Yet another characteristic must be noted, which is, in respect to matter, the
complement of the already mentioned attention to form. This is the singular
clearness and precision with which not merely the greatest Frenchmen of
letters, but all save the least, are accustomed to put their meaning. Whereas
the two great classical languages, from the licence of order given by their
abundant inflections and complicated syntax, are sometimes enigmatic;
Page 593
whereas German notoriously lends itself to the wrapping up of a simple
meaning in a cloud of words; whereas English seems to encourage those
who use it not indeed to obscurity but to desultoriness and beating about the
bush, French properly used is almost automatically clear and precise.
Rivarol's somewhat sententious conceit that the French language has a
'probité attachée à son génie' is not a conceit merely. That this lucidity is
sometimes accompanied by want of depth is quite true, but it is equally true
that it is often mistaken for it. There is no want of depth in Descartes or in
Malebranche, yet there are no clearer writers in the whole range of
philosophic literature.
To these main characteristics others which are in a way corollaries might be
added, such as urbanity, ease, ready adaptation to different classes of
subject, and the like. But those already dwelt upon are the principal, and
they have sufficed to make French, as far as general usefulness and interest
go, the best vehicle of expression in prose among European languages. In
poetry it is not quite the same. Most of the qualities just enumerated are in
poetry but of secondary use, some of them are almost directly unfavourable
to the vagueness, the indefinite suggestion, the 'making the common
uncommon,' which are necessary to poetry. The clearness of French prose
has a tendency to become colourless in French poetry, its sobriety turns to
the bald, its wit to conceits and prettinesses, its inventiveness to an undue
reliance on complicated devices for creating an artificial attraction, its sense
of form and rule to dryness and lack of passion. Moreover the merely
sonorous qualities of French render it a difficult instrument for the
production of varied poetical sounds. It is almost wholly destitute of
quantity, and the intonation which supplies that want is of such a kind that
hardly any foot but the iambus is possible in it. On the other hand its
terminations admit of elaborate and harmonious rhymes (indeed French
poetry without rhyme is a practical impossibility), and the abundance of
mute e endings has facilitated the adoption of an artificial source of
variation of sound in the so-called 'masculine and feminine' rhyming which
is in its perfection almost peculiar to the language. With these aids and by
the most elaborate attention to metre and euphony, the great poets of France
have been enabled to surmount to a very large extent the corresponding
difficulties of their prosody. But they have not on the whole been equally
fortunate in surmounting the difficulties caused by the very genius of the
meaning in a cloud of words; whereas English seems to encourage those
who use it not indeed to obscurity but to desultoriness and beating about the
bush, French properly used is almost automatically clear and precise.
Rivarol's somewhat sententious conceit that the French language has a
'probité attachée à son génie' is not a conceit merely. That this lucidity is
sometimes accompanied by want of depth is quite true, but it is equally true
that it is often mistaken for it. There is no want of depth in Descartes or in
Malebranche, yet there are no clearer writers in the whole range of
philosophic literature.
To these main characteristics others which are in a way corollaries might be
added, such as urbanity, ease, ready adaptation to different classes of
subject, and the like. But those already dwelt upon are the principal, and
they have sufficed to make French, as far as general usefulness and interest
go, the best vehicle of expression in prose among European languages. In
poetry it is not quite the same. Most of the qualities just enumerated are in
poetry but of secondary use, some of them are almost directly unfavourable
to the vagueness, the indefinite suggestion, the 'making the common
uncommon,' which are necessary to poetry. The clearness of French prose
has a tendency to become colourless in French poetry, its sobriety turns to
the bald, its wit to conceits and prettinesses, its inventiveness to an undue
reliance on complicated devices for creating an artificial attraction, its sense
of form and rule to dryness and lack of passion. Moreover the merely
sonorous qualities of French render it a difficult instrument for the
production of varied poetical sounds. It is almost wholly destitute of
quantity, and the intonation which supplies that want is of such a kind that
hardly any foot but the iambus is possible in it. On the other hand its
terminations admit of elaborate and harmonious rhymes (indeed French
poetry without rhyme is a practical impossibility), and the abundance of
mute e endings has facilitated the adoption of an artificial source of
variation of sound in the so-called 'masculine and feminine' rhyming which
is in its perfection almost peculiar to the language. With these aids and by
the most elaborate attention to metre and euphony, the great poets of France
have been enabled to surmount to a very large extent the corresponding
difficulties of their prosody. But they have not on the whole been equally
fortunate in surmounting the difficulties caused by the very genius of the
Page 594
language—the clear, sober, critical ethos of French. This is an enemy to
mystery, to vagueness, to what may be called the twilight of sense—all
things more or less necessary to the highest poetry. It will not I think be
alleged by any impartial reader of this book that its author is insensible to
the majesty or to the charm of French verse. But it is impossible for me to
admit that that majesty and that charm are shewn in the highest degree (in
the degree in which not merely Aeschylus, Shakespeare, Shelley, Heine,
shew them, but many minor names in Greek, in English, and in German),
by any but a very few Frenchmen, and by these in more than comparatively
few places. A very competent and obliging French critic has said that it is
impossible for any Frenchman to agree with me exactly in my estimate of
La Fontaine, and probably there is no better instance than La Fontaine of
the fundamental difference of conception of poetry which corresponds to
the English channel. Inexhaustibly inventive, full of criticism of life, a
master of harmonious language, managing rhythms and metres with a skill
only the more artful that it seems so artless, La Fontaine yet has too little of
dawn or sunset, still less of twilight or moonlight, too much of the light of
common day to deserve, according to my estimate, the title of poet in the
highest degree. The same may be said of most other French poets except a
few who are to be found almost exclusively in the middle ages, in the
Renaissance, and in the nineteenth century. Only in one form of the highest
poetry, the passionate declamation which is in effect oratory of the most
picturesque kind, France has never been wanting, and in this she has for
half the time been mightily helped by the possession of the magnificent
Alexandrine metre.
[294]
At the close of the eleventh century and at the beginning of the twelfth
we find the vulgar tongue in France not merely in full organisation for
literary purposes, but already employed in most of the forms of poetical
writing. An immense outburst of epic and narrative verse has taken place,
and lyrical poetry, not limited as in the case of the epics to the north of
France, but extending from Roussillon to the Pas de Calais, completes this.
The twelfth century adds to these earliest forms the important development
of the mystery, extends the subjects and varies the manner of epic verse,
and begins the compositions of literary prose with the chronicles of St.
Denis and of Villehardouin, and the prose romances of the Arthurian cycle.
All this literature is so far connected purely with the knightly and priestly
mystery, to vagueness, to what may be called the twilight of sense—all
things more or less necessary to the highest poetry. It will not I think be
alleged by any impartial reader of this book that its author is insensible to
the majesty or to the charm of French verse. But it is impossible for me to
admit that that majesty and that charm are shewn in the highest degree (in
the degree in which not merely Aeschylus, Shakespeare, Shelley, Heine,
shew them, but many minor names in Greek, in English, and in German),
by any but a very few Frenchmen, and by these in more than comparatively
few places. A very competent and obliging French critic has said that it is
impossible for any Frenchman to agree with me exactly in my estimate of
La Fontaine, and probably there is no better instance than La Fontaine of
the fundamental difference of conception of poetry which corresponds to
the English channel. Inexhaustibly inventive, full of criticism of life, a
master of harmonious language, managing rhythms and metres with a skill
only the more artful that it seems so artless, La Fontaine yet has too little of
dawn or sunset, still less of twilight or moonlight, too much of the light of
common day to deserve, according to my estimate, the title of poet in the
highest degree. The same may be said of most other French poets except a
few who are to be found almost exclusively in the middle ages, in the
Renaissance, and in the nineteenth century. Only in one form of the highest
poetry, the passionate declamation which is in effect oratory of the most
picturesque kind, France has never been wanting, and in this she has for
half the time been mightily helped by the possession of the magnificent
Alexandrine metre.
[294]
At the close of the eleventh century and at the beginning of the twelfth
we find the vulgar tongue in France not merely in full organisation for
literary purposes, but already employed in most of the forms of poetical
writing. An immense outburst of epic and narrative verse has taken place,
and lyrical poetry, not limited as in the case of the epics to the north of
France, but extending from Roussillon to the Pas de Calais, completes this.
The twelfth century adds to these earliest forms the important development
of the mystery, extends the subjects and varies the manner of epic verse,
and begins the compositions of literary prose with the chronicles of St.
Denis and of Villehardouin, and the prose romances of the Arthurian cycle.
All this literature is so far connected purely with the knightly and priestly
Page 595
orders, though it is largely composed and still more largely dealt in by
classes of men, trouvères and jongleurs, who are not necessarily either
knights or priests, and in the case of the jongleurs are certainly neither. With
a possible ancestry of Romance and Teutonic cantilenæ, Breton lais, and
vernacular legends, the new literature has a certain pattern and model in
Latin and for the most part ecclesiastical compositions. It has the sacred
books and the legends of the saints for examples of narrative, the rhythm of
the hymns for a guide to metre, and the ceremonies of the church for a
stimulant to dramatic performance. By degrees also in this twelfth century
forms of literature which busy themselves with the unprivileged classes
begin to be born. The fabliau takes every phase of life for its subject; the
folk-song acquires elegance and does not lose raciness and truth. In the next
century, the thirteenth, mediaeval literature in France arrives at its zenith
and remains there until the first quarter of the fourteenth. The early epics
lose something of their savage charm, the polished literature of Provence
quickly perishes. But in the provinces which speak the more prevailing
tongue nothing is wanting to literary development. The language itself has
shaken off all its youthful incapacities, and, though not yet well adapted for
the requirements of modern life and study, is in every way equal to the
demands made upon it by its own time. The dramatic germ contained in the
fabliau and quickened by the mystery produces the profane drama.
Ambitious works of merit in the most various kinds are published; Aucassin
et Nicolette stands side by side with the Histoire de Saint Louis, the Jeu de
la Feuillie with the Miracle de Théophile, the Roman de la Rose with the
Roman du Renart. The earliest notes of ballade and rondeau are heard;
endeavours are made with zeal, and not always without understanding, to
naturalise the wisdom of the ancients in France, and in the graceful tongue
that France possesses. Romance in prose and verse, drama, history, songs,
satire, oratory, and even erudition, are all represented and represented
worthily. Meanwhile all nations of Western Europe have come to France for
their literary models and subjects, and the greatest writers in English,
German, Italian, content themselves with adaptations of Chrétien de Troyes,
of Benoist de Sainte More, and of a hundred other known and unknown
trouvères and fabulists. But this age does not last long. The language has
been put to all the uses of which it is as yet capable; those uses in their
sameness begin to pall upon reader and hearer; and the enormous evils of
the civil and religious state reflect themselves inevitably in literature. The
classes of men, trouvères and jongleurs, who are not necessarily either
knights or priests, and in the case of the jongleurs are certainly neither. With
a possible ancestry of Romance and Teutonic cantilenæ, Breton lais, and
vernacular legends, the new literature has a certain pattern and model in
Latin and for the most part ecclesiastical compositions. It has the sacred
books and the legends of the saints for examples of narrative, the rhythm of
the hymns for a guide to metre, and the ceremonies of the church for a
stimulant to dramatic performance. By degrees also in this twelfth century
forms of literature which busy themselves with the unprivileged classes
begin to be born. The fabliau takes every phase of life for its subject; the
folk-song acquires elegance and does not lose raciness and truth. In the next
century, the thirteenth, mediaeval literature in France arrives at its zenith
and remains there until the first quarter of the fourteenth. The early epics
lose something of their savage charm, the polished literature of Provence
quickly perishes. But in the provinces which speak the more prevailing
tongue nothing is wanting to literary development. The language itself has
shaken off all its youthful incapacities, and, though not yet well adapted for
the requirements of modern life and study, is in every way equal to the
demands made upon it by its own time. The dramatic germ contained in the
fabliau and quickened by the mystery produces the profane drama.
Ambitious works of merit in the most various kinds are published; Aucassin
et Nicolette stands side by side with the Histoire de Saint Louis, the Jeu de
la Feuillie with the Miracle de Théophile, the Roman de la Rose with the
Roman du Renart. The earliest notes of ballade and rondeau are heard;
endeavours are made with zeal, and not always without understanding, to
naturalise the wisdom of the ancients in France, and in the graceful tongue
that France possesses. Romance in prose and verse, drama, history, songs,
satire, oratory, and even erudition, are all represented and represented
worthily. Meanwhile all nations of Western Europe have come to France for
their literary models and subjects, and the greatest writers in English,
German, Italian, content themselves with adaptations of Chrétien de Troyes,
of Benoist de Sainte More, and of a hundred other known and unknown
trouvères and fabulists. But this age does not last long. The language has
been put to all the uses of which it is as yet capable; those uses in their
sameness begin to pall upon reader and hearer; and the enormous evils of
the civil and religious state reflect themselves inevitably in literature. The
Page 596
old forms die out or are prolonged only in half-lifeless travesties. The
brilliant colouring of Froissart, and the graceful science of ballade- and
rondeau-writers like Lescurel and Deschamps, alone maintain the literary
reputation of the time. Towards the end of the fourteenth century the
translators and political writers import many terms of art, and strain the
language to uses for which it is as yet unhandy, though at the beginning of
the next age Charles d'Orléans by his natural grace and the virtue of the
forms he used, emerges from the mass of writers. Throughout the fifteenth
century the process of enriching or at least increasing the vocabulary goes
on, but as yet no organising hand appears to direct the process. Villon
stands alone in merit as in peculiarity. But in this time dramatic literature
and the literature of the floating popular broadsheet acquire an immense
extension—all or almost all the vigour of spirit being concentrated in the
rough farce and rougher lampoon, while all the literary skill is engrossed by
insipid rhétoriqueurs and pedants. Then comes the grand upheaval of the
Renaissance and the Reformation. An immense influx of science, of thought
to make the science living, of new terms to express the thought, takes place,
and a band of literary workers appear of power enough to master and get
into shape the turbid mass. Rabelais, Amyot, Calvin, and Herberay fashion
French prose; Marot, Ronsard, and Regnier refashion French verse. The
Pléiade introduces the drama as it is to be and the language that is to help
the drama to express itself. Montaigne for the first time throws invention
and originality into some other form than verse or than prose fiction. But by
the end of the century the tide has receded. The work of arrangement has
been but half done, and there are no master spirits left to complete it. At this
period Malherbe and Balzac make their appearance. Unable to deal with the
whole problem, they determine to deal with part of it, and to reject a portion
of the riches of which they feel themselves unfit to be stewards. Balzac and
his successors make of French prose an instrument faultless and admirable
in precision, unequalled for the work for which it is fit, but unfit for certain
portions of the work which it was once able to perform. Malherbe,
seconded by Boileau, makes of French verse an instrument suited only for
the purposes of the drama of Euripides, or rather of Seneca, with or without
its chorus, and for a certain weakened echo of that chorus, under the name
of lyrics. No French verse of the first merit other than dramatic is written
for two whole centuries. The drama soon comes to its acme, and during the
succeeding time usually maintains itself at a fairly high level until the death
brilliant colouring of Froissart, and the graceful science of ballade- and
rondeau-writers like Lescurel and Deschamps, alone maintain the literary
reputation of the time. Towards the end of the fourteenth century the
translators and political writers import many terms of art, and strain the
language to uses for which it is as yet unhandy, though at the beginning of
the next age Charles d'Orléans by his natural grace and the virtue of the
forms he used, emerges from the mass of writers. Throughout the fifteenth
century the process of enriching or at least increasing the vocabulary goes
on, but as yet no organising hand appears to direct the process. Villon
stands alone in merit as in peculiarity. But in this time dramatic literature
and the literature of the floating popular broadsheet acquire an immense
extension—all or almost all the vigour of spirit being concentrated in the
rough farce and rougher lampoon, while all the literary skill is engrossed by
insipid rhétoriqueurs and pedants. Then comes the grand upheaval of the
Renaissance and the Reformation. An immense influx of science, of thought
to make the science living, of new terms to express the thought, takes place,
and a band of literary workers appear of power enough to master and get
into shape the turbid mass. Rabelais, Amyot, Calvin, and Herberay fashion
French prose; Marot, Ronsard, and Regnier refashion French verse. The
Pléiade introduces the drama as it is to be and the language that is to help
the drama to express itself. Montaigne for the first time throws invention
and originality into some other form than verse or than prose fiction. But by
the end of the century the tide has receded. The work of arrangement has
been but half done, and there are no master spirits left to complete it. At this
period Malherbe and Balzac make their appearance. Unable to deal with the
whole problem, they determine to deal with part of it, and to reject a portion
of the riches of which they feel themselves unfit to be stewards. Balzac and
his successors make of French prose an instrument faultless and admirable
in precision, unequalled for the work for which it is fit, but unfit for certain
portions of the work which it was once able to perform. Malherbe,
seconded by Boileau, makes of French verse an instrument suited only for
the purposes of the drama of Euripides, or rather of Seneca, with or without
its chorus, and for a certain weakened echo of that chorus, under the name
of lyrics. No French verse of the first merit other than dramatic is written
for two whole centuries. The drama soon comes to its acme, and during the
succeeding time usually maintains itself at a fairly high level until the death
Page 597
of Voltaire. But prose lends itself to almost everything that is required of it,
and becomes constantly a more and more perfect instrument. To the highest
efforts of pathos and sublimity its vocabulary and its arrangement are still
unsuited, though the great preachers of the seventeenth century do their
utmost with it. But for clear exposition, smooth and agreeable narrative,
sententious and pointed brevity, witty repartee, it soon proves itself to have
no superior and scarcely an equal in Europe. In these directions
practitioners of the highest skill apply it during the seventeenth century,
while during the eighteenth its powers are shown to the utmost of their
variety by Voltaire, and receive a new development at the hands of
Rousseau. Yet, on the whole, it loses during this century. It becomes more
and more unfit for any but trivial uses, and at last it is employed for those
uses only. Then occurs the Revolution, repeating the mighty stir in men's
minds which the Renaissance had given, but at first experiencing more
difficulty in breaking up the ground and once more rendering it fertile. The
faulty and incomplete genius of Chateaubriand and Madame de Stael gives
the first evidence of a new growth, and after many years the romantic
movement completes the work. That movement occupied almost the whole
of two generations and though at the close of the second its force may
appear to be spent, the results remain, and no new or reactionary movement
is visible, and the efforts of the Romantics themselves have been crowned
with an almost complete regeneration of letters, if not of language. The
poetical power of French has been once more triumphantly proved, and its
productiveness in all branches of literature has been renewed, while in that
of prose fiction there has been almost created a new class of composition.
Finally, we may sum up even this summary. For volume and merit taken
together the product of these eight centuries of literature excels that of any
European nation, though for individual works of the supremest excellence
they may perhaps be asked in vain. No French writer is lifted by the
suffrages of other nations—the only criterion when sufficient time has
elapsed—to the level of Homer, of Shakespeare, or of Dante, who reign
alone. Of those of the authors of France who are indeed of the thirty but
attain not to the first three, Rabelais and Molière alone unite the general
suffrage; and this fact roughly but surely points to the real excellence of the
literature which these men are chosen to represent. It is great in all ways,
but it is greatest on the lighter side. The house of mirth is more suited to it
and becomes constantly a more and more perfect instrument. To the highest
efforts of pathos and sublimity its vocabulary and its arrangement are still
unsuited, though the great preachers of the seventeenth century do their
utmost with it. But for clear exposition, smooth and agreeable narrative,
sententious and pointed brevity, witty repartee, it soon proves itself to have
no superior and scarcely an equal in Europe. In these directions
practitioners of the highest skill apply it during the seventeenth century,
while during the eighteenth its powers are shown to the utmost of their
variety by Voltaire, and receive a new development at the hands of
Rousseau. Yet, on the whole, it loses during this century. It becomes more
and more unfit for any but trivial uses, and at last it is employed for those
uses only. Then occurs the Revolution, repeating the mighty stir in men's
minds which the Renaissance had given, but at first experiencing more
difficulty in breaking up the ground and once more rendering it fertile. The
faulty and incomplete genius of Chateaubriand and Madame de Stael gives
the first evidence of a new growth, and after many years the romantic
movement completes the work. That movement occupied almost the whole
of two generations and though at the close of the second its force may
appear to be spent, the results remain, and no new or reactionary movement
is visible, and the efforts of the Romantics themselves have been crowned
with an almost complete regeneration of letters, if not of language. The
poetical power of French has been once more triumphantly proved, and its
productiveness in all branches of literature has been renewed, while in that
of prose fiction there has been almost created a new class of composition.
Finally, we may sum up even this summary. For volume and merit taken
together the product of these eight centuries of literature excels that of any
European nation, though for individual works of the supremest excellence
they may perhaps be asked in vain. No French writer is lifted by the
suffrages of other nations—the only criterion when sufficient time has
elapsed—to the level of Homer, of Shakespeare, or of Dante, who reign
alone. Of those of the authors of France who are indeed of the thirty but
attain not to the first three, Rabelais and Molière alone unite the general
suffrage; and this fact roughly but surely points to the real excellence of the
literature which these men are chosen to represent. It is great in all ways,
but it is greatest on the lighter side. The house of mirth is more suited to it
Page 598
than the house of mourning. To the latter, indeed, the language of the
unknown minstrel who told Roland's death, of him who gave utterance to
Camilla's wrath and despair, and of him who in our day sang how the
mountain wind makes mad the lover who cannot forget, has amply made
good its title of entrance. But for one Frenchman who can write admirably
in this strain there are a hundred who can tell the most admirable story,
formulate the most pregnant reflexion, point the acutest jest. There is thus
no really great epic in French, few great tragedies, and those imperfect and
in a faulty kind, little prose like Milton's or like Jeremy Taylor's, little verse
(though more than is generally thought) like Shelley's or like Spenser's. But
there are the most delightful short tales, both in prose and in verse, that the
world has ever seen, the most polished jewellery of reflexion that has ever
been wrought, songs of incomparable grace, comedies that must make men
laugh so long as they are laughing animals, and above all such a body of
narrative fiction, old and new, prose and verse, as no other nation can show
for art and for originality, for grace of workmanship in him who fashions,
and for certainty of delight to him who reads.
FOOTNOTES:
[294] The courtesy of Messrs. A. and C. Black allows me to repeat the following
passage from an article of mine in the Encyclopædia Britannica. For this
repetition I may borrow from a better writer than myself the excuse that a man
cannot say exactly the same thing in two different sets of words so as to please
himself, or perhaps others.
unknown minstrel who told Roland's death, of him who gave utterance to
Camilla's wrath and despair, and of him who in our day sang how the
mountain wind makes mad the lover who cannot forget, has amply made
good its title of entrance. But for one Frenchman who can write admirably
in this strain there are a hundred who can tell the most admirable story,
formulate the most pregnant reflexion, point the acutest jest. There is thus
no really great epic in French, few great tragedies, and those imperfect and
in a faulty kind, little prose like Milton's or like Jeremy Taylor's, little verse
(though more than is generally thought) like Shelley's or like Spenser's. But
there are the most delightful short tales, both in prose and in verse, that the
world has ever seen, the most polished jewellery of reflexion that has ever
been wrought, songs of incomparable grace, comedies that must make men
laugh so long as they are laughing animals, and above all such a body of
narrative fiction, old and new, prose and verse, as no other nation can show
for art and for originality, for grace of workmanship in him who fashions,
and for certainty of delight to him who reads.
FOOTNOTES:
[294] The courtesy of Messrs. A. and C. Black allows me to repeat the following
passage from an article of mine in the Encyclopædia Britannica. For this
repetition I may borrow from a better writer than myself the excuse that a man
cannot say exactly the same thing in two different sets of words so as to please
himself, or perhaps others.
Page 599
INDEX.
Page 600
About, Edmond (1828-1885), novelist and journalist, 559.
Academic influences, 486, 506-508.
criticism, 564.
Académie Française, 334, 353, 367, 504-508.
Actors, societies of, 122.
Adalbert, St., 3.
Adam, mystery of, 111.
Adam de la Halle (13th cent.), trouvère and dramatist, 69, 70.
Adenès le Roi (13th cent.), trouvère, 23 note 1, 93, 95.
Adolescence Clémentine, 174.
Adolphe, 435.
Aguesseau, H.F. d' (1668-1751), orator, 457, 480.
Aïssé, Mlle. (1693-1733), letter-writer, 445.
Alba, 31.
Albigensian War, Chronicle of, 30.
Alembert, Jean le Rond d' (1717-1785), encyclopædist, 419, 462, 481, 483,
499.
Alexander of Bernay (12th cent.), trouvère, 43.
Alexandrines, 75, 76, 213, 300.
Academic influences, 486, 506-508.
criticism, 564.
Académie Française, 334, 353, 367, 504-508.
Actors, societies of, 122.
Adalbert, St., 3.
Adam, mystery of, 111.
Adam de la Halle (13th cent.), trouvère and dramatist, 69, 70.
Adenès le Roi (13th cent.), trouvère, 23 note 1, 93, 95.
Adolescence Clémentine, 174.
Adolphe, 435.
Aguesseau, H.F. d' (1668-1751), orator, 457, 480.
Aïssé, Mlle. (1693-1733), letter-writer, 445.
Alba, 31.
Albigensian War, Chronicle of, 30.
Alembert, Jean le Rond d' (1717-1785), encyclopædist, 419, 462, 481, 483,
499.
Alexander of Bernay (12th cent.), trouvère, 43.
Alexandrines, 75, 76, 213, 300.
Page 601
Aliscans, 19, 22.
Alixandre, Chanson d', 43.
Allainval, Léonor J. C. Soulas d' (1700-1753), dramatist, 412.
Allegory, 81.
Almanach de nos Grands Hommes, 466.
Alzire, 408.
Amphitryon, 312.
Amadas et Idoine, 97.
Amadis of Gaul, 237, 319, 320.
Amants Magnifiques, 312.
Amerval, Eloy d' (15th cent.), poet, 172.
Amis et Amiles, 12, 21, 147.
story of, 16.
passage from, 18.
Amyot, Jacques (1513-1594), translator, 232, 234, 246, 270.
Ancien Théâtre Français, 117 seqq.
Anciennes Poésies Françaises, 181, 182.
Andrieux, François G. J. S. (1759-1833), dramatist and poet, 403, 414.
Andromaque, 302.
Andromède, 298.
Alixandre, Chanson d', 43.
Allainval, Léonor J. C. Soulas d' (1700-1753), dramatist, 412.
Allegory, 81.
Almanach de nos Grands Hommes, 466.
Alzire, 408.
Amphitryon, 312.
Amadas et Idoine, 97.
Amadis of Gaul, 237, 319, 320.
Amants Magnifiques, 312.
Amerval, Eloy d' (15th cent.), poet, 172.
Amis et Amiles, 12, 21, 147.
story of, 16.
passage from, 18.
Amyot, Jacques (1513-1594), translator, 232, 234, 246, 270.
Ancien Théâtre Français, 117 seqq.
Anciennes Poésies Françaises, 181, 182.
Andrieux, François G. J. S. (1759-1833), dramatist and poet, 403, 414.
Andromaque, 302.
Andromède, 298.
Page 602
Antioche, Chanson d', 20, 39, 48, 99.
Antiquités de Rome, 203.
Antony, 530.
Apologie pour Hérodote, 166, 194.
Argenson, René Louis de Voyer, Marquis d' (1694-1757), memoir-writer,
442.
Arnauld, A. (1612-1694), Port Royalist, 338, 374.
Arnault, A. V. (1766-1834), poet and fabulist, 403.
Arthur, 34.
tale of, its origins, 34, 151.
Arthurian Romances, 34-42, 46 note.
Arthurian cycle, French order of, 35, 97.
Romances, spirit and literary value of, 38.
comedy of, 48.
social characteristics of, 46.
Arvers, Félix (1806-1851), poet, 548.
Asseneth, 147.
Assises de Jérusalem, 144.
Assonance, 11, 27, 63.
Astrée, 319.
Athalie, 302, 303, 306.
Antiquités de Rome, 203.
Antony, 530.
Apologie pour Hérodote, 166, 194.
Argenson, René Louis de Voyer, Marquis d' (1694-1757), memoir-writer,
442.
Arnauld, A. (1612-1694), Port Royalist, 338, 374.
Arnault, A. V. (1766-1834), poet and fabulist, 403.
Arthur, 34.
tale of, its origins, 34, 151.
Arthurian Romances, 34-42, 46 note.
Arthurian cycle, French order of, 35, 97.
Romances, spirit and literary value of, 38.
comedy of, 48.
social characteristics of, 46.
Arvers, Félix (1806-1851), poet, 548.
Asseneth, 147.
Assises de Jérusalem, 144.
Assonance, 11, 27, 63.
Astrée, 319.
Athalie, 302, 303, 306.
Page 603
Auberi of Besançon (12th cent.), poet, 28.
Aubignac, François Hédelin, Abbé d' (1604-1676), dramatist, novelist, and
critic, 293, 322.
Aubigné, Agrippa d' (1550-1630), poet and historian, 212, 213, 253, 254.
Aucassin et Nicolette, 66, 149.
extract from, 150.
Audefroy le Bastard (12th cent.), trouvère, 63.
Augier, E. (b. 1822), dramatist, 553.
Aulnoy, Marie C., Comtesse d' (d. 1720), tale-teller, 328.
Autran, Joseph (1813-1877), poet and dramatist, 555.
Baïf, Jean Antoine de (1532-1592), poet, 196, 198, 205, 206, 210, 226.
---- Lazare de (?-1547) translator, 219.
Balada, 31.
Ballade, 101.
Ballade des Dames du Temps jadis, 158.
Balzac, Honoré de (1799-1850), novelist, 532, 535, 537, 542.
Balzac, Jean Guez de (1594-1655), essayist and letter-writer, 355, 356.
Banville, Th. de (b. 1820), poet, 549.
Barbey d'Aurévilly, J. (b. 1808), miscellaneous writer, 557.
Aubignac, François Hédelin, Abbé d' (1604-1676), dramatist, novelist, and
critic, 293, 322.
Aubigné, Agrippa d' (1550-1630), poet and historian, 212, 213, 253, 254.
Aucassin et Nicolette, 66, 149.
extract from, 150.
Audefroy le Bastard (12th cent.), trouvère, 63.
Augier, E. (b. 1822), dramatist, 553.
Aulnoy, Marie C., Comtesse d' (d. 1720), tale-teller, 328.
Autran, Joseph (1813-1877), poet and dramatist, 555.
Baïf, Jean Antoine de (1532-1592), poet, 196, 198, 205, 206, 210, 226.
---- Lazare de (?-1547) translator, 219.
Balada, 31.
Ballade, 101.
Ballade des Dames du Temps jadis, 158.
Balzac, Honoré de (1799-1850), novelist, 532, 535, 537, 542.
Balzac, Jean Guez de (1594-1655), essayist and letter-writer, 355, 356.
Banville, Th. de (b. 1820), poet, 549.
Barbey d'Aurévilly, J. (b. 1808), miscellaneous writer, 557.
Page 604
Barbier, Auguste (1805-1882), poet, 545.
Barbier de Séville, 413.
Barlaam and Josaphat, 81.
Baron (1643-1729), comic writer and actor, 317.
Bartas, Guillaume de Saluste du (1544-1590), poet, 211, 212.
Barthélemy, Louis, Abbé (1750-1812), scholar, 427.
Bassompierre, François, Maréchal de, memoir-writer, 337.
Bastard de Bouillon, 20, 99.
Baude, Henri (1430-1495), poet, 163.
Baudelaire, C. (1821-1866), poet and critic, 549, 550.
Baudouin de Sebourc, 20, 99.
Bayle, P. (1647-1706), philosopher and encyclopædist, 375.
Beaumarchais, Caron de (1731-1799), dramatist, 413.
Bele Erembors, 63.
Bélisaire, 458.
Bellay, Guillaume (1491-1543) and Martin (?-1559) du, memoir-writers,
256.
Bellay, Joachim du (1524-1560), poet, 202, 204, 207, 210, 219, 270.
Belleau, Rémy (1528-1577), poet, 204, 226.
Barbier de Séville, 413.
Barlaam and Josaphat, 81.
Baron (1643-1729), comic writer and actor, 317.
Bartas, Guillaume de Saluste du (1544-1590), poet, 211, 212.
Barthélemy, Louis, Abbé (1750-1812), scholar, 427.
Bassompierre, François, Maréchal de, memoir-writer, 337.
Bastard de Bouillon, 20, 99.
Baude, Henri (1430-1495), poet, 163.
Baudelaire, C. (1821-1866), poet and critic, 549, 550.
Baudouin de Sebourc, 20, 99.
Bayle, P. (1647-1706), philosopher and encyclopædist, 375.
Beaumarchais, Caron de (1731-1799), dramatist, 413.
Bele Erembors, 63.
Bélisaire, 458.
Bellay, Guillaume (1491-1543) and Martin (?-1559) du, memoir-writers,
256.
Bellay, Joachim du (1524-1560), poet, 202, 204, 207, 210, 219, 270.
Belleau, Rémy (1528-1577), poet, 204, 226.
Page 605
Belloy, Burette de (1727-1775), dramatist, 408.
Benedictine students, 503.
Benoist de Sainte More (1154-1189), trouvère and chronicler, 44, 45, 79.
Benserade, Isaac de (1612-1691), poet, 278.
Béranger, Pierre Jean de (1780-1857), poet, 511, 512.
Bergerac, Cyrano de (1620-1655), dramatist and novelist, 308, 324.
Bergier, Nicolas Sylvestre (1718-1790), theologian, 460.
Berlioz, H. (1803-1869), miscellaneous writer, 566.
Bernard, C. de (1805-1850), novelist, 557.
Béroalde de Verville (1558-1612), tale-teller, 194.
Bersuire, Pierre (1290-1352), translator, 143.
Bertaut, Jean (1552-1611), poet, 338.
Berte aux grans Piés, 21, 93.
Bertin, Antoine (1752-1790), poet, 401.
Bertrand, L. (1807-1841), poet, 548.
Berwick, James Fitzjames, Duke of (1660-1734), memoir-writer, 344.
Bésenval, Pierre Victor, Baron de (1722-1791), memoir-writer, 442.
Bestiaries, 79, 145.
Benedictine students, 503.
Benoist de Sainte More (1154-1189), trouvère and chronicler, 44, 45, 79.
Benserade, Isaac de (1612-1691), poet, 278.
Béranger, Pierre Jean de (1780-1857), poet, 511, 512.
Bergerac, Cyrano de (1620-1655), dramatist and novelist, 308, 324.
Bergier, Nicolas Sylvestre (1718-1790), theologian, 460.
Berlioz, H. (1803-1869), miscellaneous writer, 566.
Bernard, C. de (1805-1850), novelist, 557.
Béroalde de Verville (1558-1612), tale-teller, 194.
Bersuire, Pierre (1290-1352), translator, 143.
Bertaut, Jean (1552-1611), poet, 338.
Berte aux grans Piés, 21, 93.
Bertin, Antoine (1752-1790), poet, 401.
Bertrand, L. (1807-1841), poet, 548.
Berwick, James Fitzjames, Duke of (1660-1734), memoir-writer, 344.
Bésenval, Pierre Victor, Baron de (1722-1791), memoir-writer, 442.
Bestiaries, 79, 145.
Page 606
Beyle, Henri (1783-1842), novelist and critic, 517.
Beza, Théodore (1519-1605), dramatist and translator, 218, 231.
Bible, 78.
Bibliothèque des Romans, 502.
Billaut, A. (1600-1662) poet, 280.
Bichat, M. F. X. (1771-1802), scientific writer, 501.
Blanc, L. (1813-1882), historian, 577.
Blancandin et l'Orguilleuse d'Amour, 96.
Blandin de Cornoalha, 30.
Blason, 210.
Blasphémateurs, 121.
Blonde d'Oxford, 98.
Blot (1610-1655) poet, 278.
Bodel, Jean (b. 1269), trouvère, 42, 91, 111.
Bodin, Jean (1530-1596), lawyer, 248.
Boethius, Provençal poem on, 28, 29.
Boëtie, Étienne de la (1530-1563), poet and political writer, 209, 242, 243,
249.
Boileau, Nicolas (1636-1711), poet and critic, 284-287.
Beza, Théodore (1519-1605), dramatist and translator, 218, 231.
Bible, 78.
Bibliothèque des Romans, 502.
Billaut, A. (1600-1662) poet, 280.
Bichat, M. F. X. (1771-1802), scientific writer, 501.
Blanc, L. (1813-1882), historian, 577.
Blancandin et l'Orguilleuse d'Amour, 96.
Blandin de Cornoalha, 30.
Blason, 210.
Blasphémateurs, 121.
Blonde d'Oxford, 98.
Blot (1610-1655) poet, 278.
Bodel, Jean (b. 1269), trouvère, 42, 91, 111.
Bodin, Jean (1530-1596), lawyer, 248.
Boethius, Provençal poem on, 28, 29.
Boëtie, Étienne de la (1530-1563), poet and political writer, 209, 242, 243,
249.
Boileau, Nicolas (1636-1711), poet and critic, 284-287.
Page 607
Boisrobert, F. Le Metel de (1592-1662), poet and dramatist, 278.
Bonald, Louis Gabriel Ambroise, Vicomte de (1754-1840), political writer,
498, 515.
Bordigné, Charles de (16th cent.), poet, 171.
Borel, P. (1809-1859), poet and novelist, 547.
Bornier, H. de (b. 1825), dramatist, 556.
Borron, Robert and Hélie de (12th and 13th cent.), 35, 36.
Bossuet, Jacques Benigne (1627-1704), theologian and preacher, 380-383.
Bouchardy, Joseph (1810-1870), dramatist, 553.
Bouchet, Guillaume (d. 1607), tale-teller, 194.
Bouchet, Jehan (1476-1555), historian and poet, 171, 172, 194.
Bouciqualt, Jean le Maigre (d. 1421), memoir-writer, 105.
Bougainville, Louis Antoine de (1729-1811), traveller, 502.
Bouilhet, L. (1821-1872), poet, 550.
Boulainvilliers, Henri de (1658-1722), historian and political writer, 438.
Bourdaloue, Louis (1632-1704), theologian, 387.
Bourgeois Gentilhomme, 312.
Boursault, Edme (1638-1708), dramatist, 315.
Bradamante, 224.
Bonald, Louis Gabriel Ambroise, Vicomte de (1754-1840), political writer,
498, 515.
Bordigné, Charles de (16th cent.), poet, 171.
Borel, P. (1809-1859), poet and novelist, 547.
Bornier, H. de (b. 1825), dramatist, 556.
Borron, Robert and Hélie de (12th and 13th cent.), 35, 36.
Bossuet, Jacques Benigne (1627-1704), theologian and preacher, 380-383.
Bouchardy, Joseph (1810-1870), dramatist, 553.
Bouchet, Guillaume (d. 1607), tale-teller, 194.
Bouchet, Jehan (1476-1555), historian and poet, 171, 172, 194.
Bouciqualt, Jean le Maigre (d. 1421), memoir-writer, 105.
Bougainville, Louis Antoine de (1729-1811), traveller, 502.
Bouilhet, L. (1821-1872), poet, 550.
Boulainvilliers, Henri de (1658-1722), historian and political writer, 438.
Bourdaloue, Louis (1632-1704), theologian, 387.
Bourgeois Gentilhomme, 312.
Boursault, Edme (1638-1708), dramatist, 315.
Bradamante, 224.
Page 608
Brantôme, Pierre de Bourdeilles, Abbé de (1540-1614), memoir-writer,
249-252.
Brébeuf, Guillaume de (1618-1661), poet, 287.
Breu-doble, 31.
Brienne, Comte de (17th cent.), memoir-writer, 339.
Brizeux, Auguste (1803-1858), poet, 546.
Brodeau, Victor (1470-1540), poet, 177.
Brosses, Ch. de (1709-1777), miscellanist, 503.
Brunetière, F., critic, 565.
Brueys, D. A. de (1640-1725), dramatist, 317.
Brun de la Montaigne, 26, 92.
Brunetto Latini (1220-1294), scholar, 145, 152.
Bueves de Commarchis, 93.
Buffon, George Lewis Leclerc, Count de (1707-1788), naturalist, 499.
Bug Jargal, 521.
Buttet, Claude (16th cent.), poet, 209.
Cabanis, J. P. G. (1757-1808), scientific writer, 501.
Calmet, Dom Augustin (1672-1757), biblical historian, 440.
Calvin, Jean (1509-1564), theologian, 230, 231.
249-252.
Brébeuf, Guillaume de (1618-1661), poet, 287.
Breu-doble, 31.
Brienne, Comte de (17th cent.), memoir-writer, 339.
Brizeux, Auguste (1803-1858), poet, 546.
Brodeau, Victor (1470-1540), poet, 177.
Brosses, Ch. de (1709-1777), miscellanist, 503.
Brunetière, F., critic, 565.
Brueys, D. A. de (1640-1725), dramatist, 317.
Brun de la Montaigne, 26, 92.
Brunetto Latini (1220-1294), scholar, 145, 152.
Bueves de Commarchis, 93.
Buffon, George Lewis Leclerc, Count de (1707-1788), naturalist, 499.
Bug Jargal, 521.
Buttet, Claude (16th cent.), poet, 209.
Cabanis, J. P. G. (1757-1808), scientific writer, 501.
Calmet, Dom Augustin (1672-1757), biblical historian, 440.
Calvin, Jean (1509-1564), theologian, 230, 231.
Page 609
Campistron (1656-1737), dramatist, 307, 316.
Candide, 423.
Canso, 30.
Cantilenae, 7, 62.
Caractères of La Bruyère, 365.
Carloix, Vincent (16th cent.), memoir-writer, 254.
Carte de Tendre, 321.
Cassel, glossary of, 3.
Castelnau, Michel de (1500-1592), memoir-writer, 257.
Castoiement d'un Père à son Fils, 81.
Caylus, Madame de (1673-1729), memoir-writer, 344.
Cazotte, Jacques (1720-1792), novelist, 426.
Cénacle, the, 530, 540.
Cent Nouvelles Nouvelles, 148, 283.
Chamfort, N. (1741-1794), moralist and critic, 465, 466.
Champcenetz, (1759-1794), journalist, &c., 464, 465.
Champier, Symphorien (1472-1535), poet, 171.
Chanson, 66, 511, 512.
Candide, 423.
Canso, 30.
Cantilenae, 7, 62.
Caractères of La Bruyère, 365.
Carloix, Vincent (16th cent.), memoir-writer, 254.
Carte de Tendre, 321.
Cassel, glossary of, 3.
Castelnau, Michel de (1500-1592), memoir-writer, 257.
Castoiement d'un Père à son Fils, 81.
Caylus, Madame de (1673-1729), memoir-writer, 344.
Cazotte, Jacques (1720-1792), novelist, 426.
Cénacle, the, 530, 540.
Cent Nouvelles Nouvelles, 148, 283.
Chamfort, N. (1741-1794), moralist and critic, 465, 466.
Champcenetz, (1759-1794), journalist, &c., 464, 465.
Champier, Symphorien (1472-1535), poet, 171.
Chanson, 66, 511, 512.
Page 610
Chanson d'Alixandre, 42, 43, 46.
Chanson d'Amour, 66.
Chanson de Roland, argument of, 13.
passage from, 14.
Chanson des Albigeois, 30, 31.
Chansonnettes, 66.
Chansons de Gestes, 2, 6, 7, 9-24, 37, 43, 47, 50, 75, 76, 99.
Chanson des Rues et des Bois, 524.
Chansons du XVième Siècle, 166.
Chapelain, Jean (1595-1674), poet, 279, 285, 301, 349.
Chapelle, C. E. L. (1626-1686), poet, 278.
Chardry (13th cent.), trouvère, 81.
Charlemagne à Constantinople, Voyage de, 21.
Charlemagne in Chansons, 13, 14, 19, 22.
Charleval, C. J. L. Faucon de Risseigneur de (1612-1693), poet, 278.
Charroi de Nimes, le, 19.
Charron, Pierre (1541-1603), moralist and theologian, 247, 248.
Chartier, Alain (1390-1458), poet, 102, 105, 144, 165, 169, 270.
ballade from, 108.
extract from Curial, 150.
Chanson d'Amour, 66.
Chanson de Roland, argument of, 13.
passage from, 14.
Chanson des Albigeois, 30, 31.
Chansonnettes, 66.
Chansons de Gestes, 2, 6, 7, 9-24, 37, 43, 47, 50, 75, 76, 99.
Chanson des Rues et des Bois, 524.
Chansons du XVième Siècle, 166.
Chapelain, Jean (1595-1674), poet, 279, 285, 301, 349.
Chapelle, C. E. L. (1626-1686), poet, 278.
Chardry (13th cent.), trouvère, 81.
Charlemagne à Constantinople, Voyage de, 21.
Charlemagne in Chansons, 13, 14, 19, 22.
Charleval, C. J. L. Faucon de Risseigneur de (1612-1693), poet, 278.
Charroi de Nimes, le, 19.
Charron, Pierre (1541-1603), moralist and theologian, 247, 248.
Chartier, Alain (1390-1458), poet, 102, 105, 144, 165, 169, 270.
ballade from, 108.
extract from Curial, 150.
Page 611
Chasles, P. L. (1798-1873), critic, 565.
Chassignet, J. B. (1578-1620), poet, 276.
Chastellain, Georges (1403-1475), chronicler, 134, 148, 164.
Chateaubriand, François Auguste de (1768-1848), novelist and
miscellaneous writer, 429, 430.
Chatillon, A. de (1810-1884), poet, 548.
Chaulieu, Abbé de (1639-1720), poet, 288.
Chaussée, Nivelle de la (1692-1754), dramatic poet, 411, 415.
Chef d'œuvre Inconnu, 533.
Chênedollé, C. de (1769-1833), poet, 403, 468.
Chénier, André Marie de (1762-1794), poet, 402, 403.
Chénier, Marie Joseph (1764-1811), poet, critic, and journalist, 401, 403,
519.
Cherbuliez, V. (b. 1832), novelist, 562.
Chétifs, 20.
Cheval de Fust, 93.
Chevalerie Ogier de Danemarche, la, 20.
Chevalier à la Charrette, extract from, 40, 41.
Chevalier as Deux Espées, 97.
Chevalier au Cygne, 20.
Chassignet, J. B. (1578-1620), poet, 276.
Chastellain, Georges (1403-1475), chronicler, 134, 148, 164.
Chateaubriand, François Auguste de (1768-1848), novelist and
miscellaneous writer, 429, 430.
Chatillon, A. de (1810-1884), poet, 548.
Chaulieu, Abbé de (1639-1720), poet, 288.
Chaussée, Nivelle de la (1692-1754), dramatic poet, 411, 415.
Chef d'œuvre Inconnu, 533.
Chênedollé, C. de (1769-1833), poet, 403, 468.
Chénier, André Marie de (1762-1794), poet, 402, 403.
Chénier, Marie Joseph (1764-1811), poet, critic, and journalist, 401, 403,
519.
Cherbuliez, V. (b. 1832), novelist, 562.
Chétifs, 20.
Cheval de Fust, 93.
Chevalerie Ogier de Danemarche, la, 20.
Chevalier à la Charrette, extract from, 40, 41.
Chevalier as Deux Espées, 97.
Chevalier au Cygne, 20.
Page 612
Chevalier au Lyon, 37, 38.
Chivalry, spirit of, 29, 38.
Cholières, Sieur de (16th cent.), 194.
Chrestien de Troyes (d. c. 1195), trouvère, 37, 38, 39, 40.
Chrestien, Florent (1541-1596), translator and political writer, 260.
Christ, Passion du, 112.
Chronique de du Guesclin, 75.
Chronique de Messire Jacque de Lalaing, 148.
Chronique des Quatre Premiers Valois, 131.
Chronique de Rains, 130.
Chronique du Règne de Charles IX, 537.
Chronique scandaleuse of Jean de Troyes, 136.
Chroniques of Froissart, 132.
Chroniques Grandes et Inestimables, du Grant et Énorme Géant
Gargantua, 185.
Chroniques of Jean Lebel, 131, 132, 133.
Chute d'un Ange, 514.
Cinna, 207.
Cinq Mars, 544.
Chivalry, spirit of, 29, 38.
Cholières, Sieur de (16th cent.), 194.
Chrestien de Troyes (d. c. 1195), trouvère, 37, 38, 39, 40.
Chrestien, Florent (1541-1596), translator and political writer, 260.
Christ, Passion du, 112.
Chronique de du Guesclin, 75.
Chronique de Messire Jacque de Lalaing, 148.
Chronique des Quatre Premiers Valois, 131.
Chronique de Rains, 130.
Chronique du Règne de Charles IX, 537.
Chronique scandaleuse of Jean de Troyes, 136.
Chroniques of Froissart, 132.
Chroniques Grandes et Inestimables, du Grant et Énorme Géant
Gargantua, 185.
Chroniques of Jean Lebel, 131, 132, 133.
Chute d'un Ange, 514.
Cinna, 207.
Cinq Mars, 544.
Page 613
Clari, Robert de (12th cent.), chronicler, 130.
Claude, Jean (1619-1687), theologian, 379.
Claveret (17th cent.), dramatist, 293.
Clélie, 321.
Cléomadès, 93.
extract from, 94.
Cléopâtre, drama, 219, 221, 224, 226.
Cléopâtre, novel, 307, 321.
Clèveland, 422.
Cligès, 38.
Clitandre, 295, 297.
Codes and Legal Treatises, 144.
Collé, Charles (1709-1783), poet, dramatist, and memoir-writer, 404.
Collérye, Roger de (16th cent.), 170, 171.
Colletet, G. (1598-1659), poet, 278.
Collin d'Harleville, J. F. (1755-1806), comic poet and dramatist, 414.
Combat des Trente, 75.
Comédie des Académistes, 405.
Comédie des Chansons, 308.
Claude, Jean (1619-1687), theologian, 379.
Claveret (17th cent.), dramatist, 293.
Clélie, 321.
Cléomadès, 93.
extract from, 94.
Cléopâtre, drama, 219, 221, 224, 226.
Cléopâtre, novel, 307, 321.
Clèveland, 422.
Cligès, 38.
Clitandre, 295, 297.
Codes and Legal Treatises, 144.
Collé, Charles (1709-1783), poet, dramatist, and memoir-writer, 404.
Collérye, Roger de (16th cent.), 170, 171.
Colletet, G. (1598-1659), poet, 278.
Collin d'Harleville, J. F. (1755-1806), comic poet and dramatist, 414.
Combat des Trente, 75.
Comédie des Académistes, 405.
Comédie des Chansons, 308.
Page 614
Comédie des Comédiens, 308.
Comédie des Comédies, 308.
Comédie des Proverbes, 308.
Comédie Italienne, 406.
Comédie Larmoyante, 411.
Comines, Philippe de (c. 1447-1511), memoir-writer, 159, 160.
Commedia dell' arte, 308.
Commedia erudita, 308.
Compère Mathieu, 428.
Comte, A. (1796-1851), philosopher, 568.
Comtesse de Ponthieu, 147.
Condamnation de Banquet, 121, 219.
Condé, B. and J. de (14th cent.), trouvères, 78.
Condillac, Étienne Bonnot de (1715-1780), philosopher, 495.
Condorcet, Jean Antoine Nicolas de Caritat (1743-1794), economist and
philosopher, 491.
Confession d'un Enfant du Siècle, 541.
Confession du Vicaire Savoyard, 487.
Confessions, 425, 485, 486, 487, 488.
Comédie des Comédies, 308.
Comédie des Proverbes, 308.
Comédie Italienne, 406.
Comédie Larmoyante, 411.
Comines, Philippe de (c. 1447-1511), memoir-writer, 159, 160.
Commedia dell' arte, 308.
Commedia erudita, 308.
Compère Mathieu, 428.
Comte, A. (1796-1851), philosopher, 568.
Comtesse de Ponthieu, 147.
Condamnation de Banquet, 121, 219.
Condé, B. and J. de (14th cent.), trouvères, 78.
Condillac, Étienne Bonnot de (1715-1780), philosopher, 495.
Condorcet, Jean Antoine Nicolas de Caritat (1743-1794), economist and
philosopher, 491.
Confession d'un Enfant du Siècle, 541.
Confession du Vicaire Savoyard, 487.
Confessions, 425, 485, 486, 487, 488.
Page 615
Confrérie de la Passion (licensed, 1402), 122.
Conjuration de Fiesque, 334, 340.
Conjuration des Espagnols contre Venise, 335.
Conquête de Constantinople, 128, 129, 131.
Conspiration de Walstein, 334.
Constant, Benjamin (1767-1830), politician and novelist, 432, 435, 487.
Consuelo, 534.
Contes Drolatiques, 533, 537.
Contes d'Espagne et d'Italie, 540.
Contes d'Eutrapel, 193.
Contes et Joyeux Devis, 192, 193.
Contes of La Fontaine, 281, 282, 283, 284.
Contrat Social, 486, 487.
Contreditz du Songecreux, 170.
Contre-un, 249.
Conversation du Père Canaye, 361.
Coppée, F. (b. 1842), poet, 551.
Coq-à-l'Âne, 174, 177, 198.
Coquillart, Guillaume (?1421-1510), poet, 162, 164.
Conjuration de Fiesque, 334, 340.
Conjuration des Espagnols contre Venise, 335.
Conquête de Constantinople, 128, 129, 131.
Conspiration de Walstein, 334.
Constant, Benjamin (1767-1830), politician and novelist, 432, 435, 487.
Consuelo, 534.
Contes Drolatiques, 533, 537.
Contes d'Espagne et d'Italie, 540.
Contes d'Eutrapel, 193.
Contes et Joyeux Devis, 192, 193.
Contes of La Fontaine, 281, 282, 283, 284.
Contrat Social, 486, 487.
Contreditz du Songecreux, 170.
Contre-un, 249.
Conversation du Père Canaye, 361.
Coppée, F. (b. 1842), poet, 551.
Coq-à-l'Âne, 174, 177, 198.
Coquillart, Guillaume (?1421-1510), poet, 162, 164.
Page 616
Coran, Ch. (b. 1814), poet, 550.
Corinne, 432, 433.
Corneille, Pierre (1606-1684), poet and dramatist, 295-301.
Corneille, Thomas (1625-1706), dramatist, 306, 316.
Corrozet, Gilles (1510-1568), poet and fabulist, 178.
Cottin, Madame (1773-1807), novelist, 434, 435.
Coucy, Châtelain de (13th cent.), poet, 68.
---- Mathieu de (15th cent.), chronicler, 135.
Courier, Paul Louis (1772-1825), translator and political pamphleteer, 469,
510.
Couronnement Loys, 19.
Cousin, Victor (1792-1868), philosopher, 516.
Couvin, Watriquet de (14th cent.), trouvère, 78.
Crébillon the Elder, C. Jolyot de (1674-1763), dramatist, 407, 408.
Crébillon the Younger, C. P. Jolyot de (1707-1778), novelist, 426.
Crétin, Guillaume (d. 1525), poet, 165, 172, 209, 270.
Crispin, Rival de son Maître, 410.
Cromwell, 522.
Cuvier, G. C. (1769-1832), naturalist, 501.
Corinne, 432, 433.
Corneille, Pierre (1606-1684), poet and dramatist, 295-301.
Corneille, Thomas (1625-1706), dramatist, 306, 316.
Corrozet, Gilles (1510-1568), poet and fabulist, 178.
Cottin, Madame (1773-1807), novelist, 434, 435.
Coucy, Châtelain de (13th cent.), poet, 68.
---- Mathieu de (15th cent.), chronicler, 135.
Courier, Paul Louis (1772-1825), translator and political pamphleteer, 469,
510.
Couronnement Loys, 19.
Cousin, Victor (1792-1868), philosopher, 516.
Couvin, Watriquet de (14th cent.), trouvère, 78.
Crébillon the Elder, C. Jolyot de (1674-1763), dramatist, 407, 408.
Crébillon the Younger, C. P. Jolyot de (1707-1778), novelist, 426.
Crétin, Guillaume (d. 1525), poet, 165, 172, 209, 270.
Crispin, Rival de son Maître, 410.
Cromwell, 522.
Cuvier, G. C. (1769-1832), naturalist, 501.
Page 617
Cygne, Chevalier au, 20, 29, 99.
Cymbalum Mundi, 190, 248.
Dacier, Madame (1654-1720), 367.
Dames Galantes, 251.
Dancourt, F. C. (1661-1725), dramatist, 317.
Dangeau, Ph. de Courcillon, Marquis de (1638-1720), memoir-writer, 345.
Daniel, 111.
Daniel, Père (1649-1728), historian, 334.
Daphnis et Chloe, 233.
Dassoucy, C. Coypeau (1605-1674), miscellanist, 324.
Daubenton, Louis Jean Marie (1716-1800), naturalist, 500.
Daudet, A. (b. 1840), novelist, 562.
Daurat, Jean (c. 1507-1588), poet, 196, 198, 203, 206, 211.
Daurel et Beton, 23 note 2.
Défense et Illustration de la Langue Française, 198, 206.
Deffand, Madame du (1697-1780), letter-writer, 445.
Definition of Chansons de Geste, 11.
De l'Allemagne, 432, 433.
Cymbalum Mundi, 190, 248.
Dacier, Madame (1654-1720), 367.
Dames Galantes, 251.
Dancourt, F. C. (1661-1725), dramatist, 317.
Dangeau, Ph. de Courcillon, Marquis de (1638-1720), memoir-writer, 345.
Daniel, 111.
Daniel, Père (1649-1728), historian, 334.
Daphnis et Chloe, 233.
Dassoucy, C. Coypeau (1605-1674), miscellanist, 324.
Daubenton, Louis Jean Marie (1716-1800), naturalist, 500.
Daudet, A. (b. 1840), novelist, 562.
Daurat, Jean (c. 1507-1588), poet, 196, 198, 203, 206, 211.
Daurel et Beton, 23 note 2.
Défense et Illustration de la Langue Française, 198, 206.
Deffand, Madame du (1697-1780), letter-writer, 445.
Definition of Chansons de Geste, 11.
De l'Allemagne, 432, 433.
Page 618
De l'Amour, 518.
De l'Église Gallicane, 496.
De l'Esprit, 493.
De l'Homme, 493.
Delavigne, Casimir (1793-1843), poet, and dramatist, 519.
Delille, Jacques (1758-1813), poet, 400, 507.
Denis Pyramus (13th cent.), poet, 96.
Dépit Amoureux, 309, 310.
Désaugiers, M. A. M. (1772-1827), poet, 404.
Descartes, René (1596-1650), philosopher, 368-374.
Deschamps, Emile (1795-1871), and Antoni (1809-1869), poets, 543.
Deschamps, Eustache (1328-1415), poet, 103, 104.
Descort, 31.
Desfontaines, P. F. Guizot (1685-1745), critic, 460, 461.
Deshoulières, Madame (1638-1694), poetess, 288.
Desmahis, J. F. E. (1722-1761), dramatist, 413.
Desorgues, J. T. (1763-1808), poet, 401.
Des Périers, B. (1500-1544), tale-teller, 190, 191.
De l'Église Gallicane, 496.
De l'Esprit, 493.
De l'Homme, 493.
Delavigne, Casimir (1793-1843), poet, and dramatist, 519.
Delille, Jacques (1758-1813), poet, 400, 507.
Denis Pyramus (13th cent.), poet, 96.
Dépit Amoureux, 309, 310.
Désaugiers, M. A. M. (1772-1827), poet, 404.
Descartes, René (1596-1650), philosopher, 368-374.
Deschamps, Emile (1795-1871), and Antoni (1809-1869), poets, 543.
Deschamps, Eustache (1328-1415), poet, 103, 104.
Descort, 31.
Desfontaines, P. F. Guizot (1685-1745), critic, 460, 461.
Deshoulières, Madame (1638-1694), poetess, 288.
Desmahis, J. F. E. (1722-1761), dramatist, 413.
Desorgues, J. T. (1763-1808), poet, 401.
Des Périers, B. (1500-1544), tale-teller, 190, 191.
Page 619
Desportes, Philippe (1546-1606), poet, 214.
Destouches, P. H. (1680-1754), dramatist, 411.
Deux Bordeors Ribaux, 50.
Devin du Village, 413.
Diable Amoureux, 426.
Diable Boiteux, 417, 418.
Dialects, 6, 141.
---- and Provincial Literatures, 6.
Dictionnaire de Trévoux, 325.
Diderot, Denis (1713-1784), encyclopædist, 411, 424, 449, 462, 481, 482.
Discours de la Méthode, 370, 372, 373.
Dits and Débats, 50, 77, 78, 104, 115, 117, 118.
Dive Bouteille, 187, 189.
Dolet, Étienne (1509-1544), poet, translator, and printer, 178, 234, 270.
Dolopathos, 52, 96.
Doon de Mayence, 21.
Dorat, C. J. (1734-1780), poet, 404.
Doublet, Jean (16th cent.), poet, 209.
Dovalle, Ch. (1807-1829), poet, 546.
Destouches, P. H. (1680-1754), dramatist, 411.
Deux Bordeors Ribaux, 50.
Devin du Village, 413.
Diable Amoureux, 426.
Diable Boiteux, 417, 418.
Dialects, 6, 141.
---- and Provincial Literatures, 6.
Dictionnaire de Trévoux, 325.
Diderot, Denis (1713-1784), encyclopædist, 411, 424, 449, 462, 481, 482.
Discours de la Méthode, 370, 372, 373.
Dits and Débats, 50, 77, 78, 104, 115, 117, 118.
Dive Bouteille, 187, 189.
Dolet, Étienne (1509-1544), poet, translator, and printer, 178, 234, 270.
Dolopathos, 52, 96.
Doon de Mayence, 21.
Dorat, C. J. (1734-1780), poet, 404.
Doublet, Jean (16th cent.), poet, 209.
Dovalle, Ch. (1807-1829), poet, 546.
Page 620
Droz, G. (b. 1832), novelist, 559.
Dubos, Jean Baptiste (1670-1742), historian, 438.
Du Cange, see Dufresne.
Ducis, J. F. (1733-1816), poet and dramatist, 409.
Duclos, Charles Pinaud (1704-1772), historian and moralist, 423, 442, 457.
Dufresne, Charles (Du Cange) (1614-1688), historian, scholar, 353.
Dufresny, Charles Rivière (1648-1724), dramatist, 315, 316, 317, 476.
Duguay-Trouin, René (1673-1736), memoir-writer, 345.
Dulaurens, Henri Joseph (1719-1797), satirist and novelist, 428.
Dumas the Elder, Alexandre (1806-1870), dramatist and novelist, 530, 535,
542.
Dumas the Younger, Alexandre (b. 1824), dramatist and novelist, 554.
Dupanloup, F. A. P. (1802-1878), theologian, 570.
Du Pape, 496.
Du Perron, Cardinal (1556-1618), poet and controversialist, 276.
Duplessis-Mornay (1549-1623), controversialist, 231, 249.
Dupont, P. (1821-1870), poet, 550.
Durant, G. (1550-1615), poet, 260.
Duras, Madame de (1778-1829), novelist, 434.
Dubos, Jean Baptiste (1670-1742), historian, 438.
Du Cange, see Dufresne.
Ducis, J. F. (1733-1816), poet and dramatist, 409.
Duclos, Charles Pinaud (1704-1772), historian and moralist, 423, 442, 457.
Dufresne, Charles (Du Cange) (1614-1688), historian, scholar, 353.
Dufresny, Charles Rivière (1648-1724), dramatist, 315, 316, 317, 476.
Duguay-Trouin, René (1673-1736), memoir-writer, 345.
Dulaurens, Henri Joseph (1719-1797), satirist and novelist, 428.
Dumas the Elder, Alexandre (1806-1870), dramatist and novelist, 530, 535,
542.
Dumas the Younger, Alexandre (b. 1824), dramatist and novelist, 554.
Dupanloup, F. A. P. (1802-1878), theologian, 570.
Du Pape, 496.
Du Perron, Cardinal (1556-1618), poet and controversialist, 276.
Duplessis-Mornay (1549-1623), controversialist, 231, 249.
Dupont, P. (1821-1870), poet, 550.
Durant, G. (1550-1615), poet, 260.
Duras, Madame de (1778-1829), novelist, 434.
Page 621
D'Urfé, Honoré (1567-1725), novelist, 319.
Durmart le Gallois, 97.
Du Ryer, Pierre (1605-1658), dramatist, 293.
Eastern stories in Early French literature, 52.
École des Femmes, 311.
École des Maris, 311.
Émaux et Camées, 539.
Emile, 425, 486.
Encyclopædia, 480.
Enfances Godefroy, 20.
Enfances Ogier, 93.
Enfants sans Souci, 123.
'Enjambement,' 523.
Epinay, Madame d' (1725-1783), memoir-writer, 443.
Erckmann-Chatrian, novelists, 557.
Erec et Énide, 38.
Esprit des Lois, 476, 477.
'Esprit Gaulois,' 48, 182, 263.
Durmart le Gallois, 97.
Du Ryer, Pierre (1605-1658), dramatist, 293.
Eastern stories in Early French literature, 52.
École des Femmes, 311.
École des Maris, 311.
Émaux et Camées, 539.
Emile, 425, 486.
Encyclopædia, 480.
Enfances Godefroy, 20.
Enfances Ogier, 93.
Enfants sans Souci, 123.
'Enjambement,' 523.
Epinay, Madame d' (1725-1783), memoir-writer, 443.
Erckmann-Chatrian, novelists, 557.
Erec et Énide, 38.
Esprit des Lois, 476, 477.
'Esprit Gaulois,' 48, 182, 263.
Page 622
Esquisse des Progrès de l'Esprit Humain, 491.
Essais of Montaigne, 242, 243, 354, 365, 372.
Essai sur les Mœurs, 439.
Essai sur les Règnes de Claude et de Néron, 441, 482.
Essai sur l'Indifférence en Matière de Religion, 514.
Essai sur l'Origine des Connoissances Humaines, 495.
Essayists, historical, 336.
Estienne, Henri (1528-1598), scholar, 166, 194, 237.
Estrées, F. A. d' (17th cent.), memoir-writer, 337.
Estula, 52.
Étourdi, 309, 310.
Eugène, 220, 221.
Eulalie, St., Song of, 4, 62.
Expédition Nocturne, 435.
Fables of La Fontaine, 281, 282, 283, 327, 403.
Fabliau des Perdris, extract from, 58, 59.
Fabliaux, 6, 47-52, 148, 153, 502.
Fabre d'Eglantine, P. F. N. (1755-1794), poet and dramatist, 414.
Essais of Montaigne, 242, 243, 354, 365, 372.
Essai sur les Mœurs, 439.
Essai sur les Règnes de Claude et de Néron, 441, 482.
Essai sur l'Indifférence en Matière de Religion, 514.
Essai sur l'Origine des Connoissances Humaines, 495.
Essayists, historical, 336.
Estienne, Henri (1528-1598), scholar, 166, 194, 237.
Estrées, F. A. d' (17th cent.), memoir-writer, 337.
Estula, 52.
Étourdi, 309, 310.
Eugène, 220, 221.
Eulalie, St., Song of, 4, 62.
Expédition Nocturne, 435.
Fables of La Fontaine, 281, 282, 283, 327, 403.
Fabliau des Perdris, extract from, 58, 59.
Fabliaux, 6, 47-52, 148, 153, 502.
Fabre d'Eglantine, P. F. N. (1755-1794), poet and dramatist, 414.
Page 623
Fâcheux, 311.
Fagan, C. B. (1702-1755), dramatist, 412.
Farce, 117, 216, 218.
Farce du Cuvier, 119.
Farce de Folle Bobance, 120.
Farce du Pasté et de la Tarte, 118.
Faron, St., Song of, 3, 8.
Fatrasie, 194, 198, 424.
Fauchet, Claude (1530-1601), critic, 235.
Fauvel, 57.
Femmes Savantes, 313.
Fénelon, F. de Salignac de la Mothe—(1661-1715), theologian, 383.
Fenin, Pierre de (d. 1506), chronicler, 135.
Festin de Pierre, 310, 311.
Feuilles de Grimm, 462.
Feuillet, O. (b. 1812), dramatist and novelist, 554, 558.
Feydeau, E. (1821-1874), novelist, 559.
Fiancée du Roi de Garbe, 283.
Fagan, C. B. (1702-1755), dramatist, 412.
Farce, 117, 216, 218.
Farce du Cuvier, 119.
Farce de Folle Bobance, 120.
Farce du Pasté et de la Tarte, 118.
Faron, St., Song of, 3, 8.
Fatrasie, 194, 198, 424.
Fauchet, Claude (1530-1601), critic, 235.
Fauvel, 57.
Femmes Savantes, 313.
Fénelon, F. de Salignac de la Mothe—(1661-1715), theologian, 383.
Fenin, Pierre de (d. 1506), chronicler, 135.
Festin de Pierre, 310, 311.
Feuilles de Grimm, 462.
Feuillet, O. (b. 1812), dramatist and novelist, 554, 558.
Feydeau, E. (1821-1874), novelist, 559.
Fiancée du Roi de Garbe, 283.
Page 624
Fierabras, 20, 21, 22.
Fiévée, Joseph (1767-1839), novelist, etc., 434.
Fitzwarine, story of, 146.
'Five Poets,' the, 278, 295.
Flamenca, 30.
Flaubert, G. (1821-1881), novelist, 560, 561.
Fléchier, Esprit (1632-1710), preacher, 388.
Fleury, Abbé (1640-1723), historian, 334.
Flore et Blanchefleur, 96.
Florian, G. P. de (1755-1794), poet and fabulist, 403.
Folles Entreprises, 217.
Fontaine, Charles (1513-1587), poet, 178, 182.
Fontaines, Madame de (d. 1730), novelist, 419.
Fontanes, L. de (1757-1821), poet, 403, 468.
Fontaney, A. C. (?-1837), poet and critic, 547, 548.
Fontenay-Mareuil, F. Duval de (1595-1647), memoir-writer, 336.
Fontenelle, Bernard le Bovier de (1657-1757), miscellaneous writer, 453.
Forbin, C. de (1656-1733), memoir-writer, 345.
Fourberies de Scapin, 313.
Fiévée, Joseph (1767-1839), novelist, etc., 434.
Fitzwarine, story of, 146.
'Five Poets,' the, 278, 295.
Flamenca, 30.
Flaubert, G. (1821-1881), novelist, 560, 561.
Fléchier, Esprit (1632-1710), preacher, 388.
Fleury, Abbé (1640-1723), historian, 334.
Flore et Blanchefleur, 96.
Florian, G. P. de (1755-1794), poet and fabulist, 403.
Folles Entreprises, 217.
Fontaine, Charles (1513-1587), poet, 178, 182.
Fontaines, Madame de (d. 1730), novelist, 419.
Fontanes, L. de (1757-1821), poet, 403, 468.
Fontaney, A. C. (?-1837), poet and critic, 547, 548.
Fontenay-Mareuil, F. Duval de (1595-1647), memoir-writer, 336.
Fontenelle, Bernard le Bovier de (1657-1757), miscellaneous writer, 453.
Forbin, C. de (1656-1733), memoir-writer, 345.
Fourberies de Scapin, 313.
Page 625
Franc Archier de Bagnolet, 158.
Frère Lubin, 177.
Fréron, Elie Cathérine (1719-1776), journalist, 460, 474.
Froissart, Jean (1337-1410), historian and poet, 103, 104, 132-135.
Furetière, Antoine (1620-1688), novelist and miscellaneous writer, 325.
Gaboriau, E. (1835-1873), novelist, 557.
Gace Brulé (13th cent.), poet, 69.
Galerie du Palais, 297.
Galiani, Abbé (1681-1753), economist and letter-writer, 450, 490.
Gamon, Achille (16th cent.), memoir-writer, 257.
Ganelon, 13, 14, 21.
Garat, D. J. (1749-1833), journalist, etc., 464, 465.
Gargantua, 185-187.
Garin le Loherain, 20.
Garnier, Robert (1545-c. 1601), dramatist, 224, 225.
Gaspard de la Nuit, 548.
Gassendi (1592-1655), Neo-Epicurean philosopher, 375.
Gautier, Théophile (1811-1872), poet, critic, and novelist, 537, 542, 546.
Frère Lubin, 177.
Fréron, Elie Cathérine (1719-1776), journalist, 460, 474.
Froissart, Jean (1337-1410), historian and poet, 103, 104, 132-135.
Furetière, Antoine (1620-1688), novelist and miscellaneous writer, 325.
Gaboriau, E. (1835-1873), novelist, 557.
Gace Brulé (13th cent.), poet, 69.
Galerie du Palais, 297.
Galiani, Abbé (1681-1753), economist and letter-writer, 450, 490.
Gamon, Achille (16th cent.), memoir-writer, 257.
Ganelon, 13, 14, 21.
Garat, D. J. (1749-1833), journalist, etc., 464, 465.
Gargantua, 185-187.
Garin le Loherain, 20.
Garnier, Robert (1545-c. 1601), dramatist, 224, 225.
Gaspard de la Nuit, 548.
Gassendi (1592-1655), Neo-Epicurean philosopher, 375.
Gautier, Théophile (1811-1872), poet, critic, and novelist, 537, 542, 546.
Page 626
Gaymar, Geoffrey (b. 1149), chronicler, 76.
Gazetteers, the rhyming, 289.
Génie du Christianisme, 429, 431.
Genlis, Madame de (1746-1830), novelist, 434, 443.
Geoffrey of Monmouth (12th cent.), historian, 34 sqq.
Gérard de Roussillon, 20.
Gérard de Viane, 21.
Gerson, Jean Charlier de (1363-1429), theologian, 142.
Geruzez, E. (1799-1865), critic, 565.
Gesta Romanorum, 52.
Geste, Meaning of, 10 note 1.
Giélée, Jacquemart (13th cent.), poet, 55.
Gilbert, N. J. L. (1751-1780), poet, 401.
Gil Blas, 411, 417, 418.
Gillot, Jacques (16th cent.), political writer, 260.
Ginguené, P. L. (1748-1816), critic, etc., 464.
Girardin, Madame de (1804-1855), dramatist, 554.
Girartz de Rossilho, 25, 28, 29.
Gazetteers, the rhyming, 289.
Génie du Christianisme, 429, 431.
Genlis, Madame de (1746-1830), novelist, 434, 443.
Geoffrey of Monmouth (12th cent.), historian, 34 sqq.
Gérard de Roussillon, 20.
Gérard de Viane, 21.
Gerson, Jean Charlier de (1363-1429), theologian, 142.
Geruzez, E. (1799-1865), critic, 565.
Gesta Romanorum, 52.
Geste, Meaning of, 10 note 1.
Giélée, Jacquemart (13th cent.), poet, 55.
Gilbert, N. J. L. (1751-1780), poet, 401.
Gil Blas, 411, 417, 418.
Gillot, Jacques (16th cent.), political writer, 260.
Ginguené, P. L. (1748-1816), critic, etc., 464.
Girardin, Madame de (1804-1855), dramatist, 554.
Girartz de Rossilho, 25, 28, 29.
Page 627
Giron le Courtois, 36, 39.
Glatigny, A., poet, 551.
Globe, 520.
Glorieux, 411.
Godeau, A. (1605-1672), poet, 278.
Golden Violet, etc., 32, 33.
Gombaud, J. Ogier de (1570-1666), poet, 276.
Gomberville, Marin le Roy Seigneur de (1600-1647), poet and novelist,
278, 322.
Gourville, Jean Hérault de (d. 1703), memoir-writer, 343.
Graal, the Holy, Chapter iv., passim.
Grammont, Chevalier de (see Hamilton).
---- Maréchal de, and his family, literary work of, 344.
Grandes Chroniques de France, 128, 130, 131.
Grand Cyrus, 321.
Grandeur et Décadence des Romains, 476.
Grands Capitaines, 250.
Grands Jours d'Auvergne, 389.
Gratien du Pont (16th cent.), poet, 172.
Glatigny, A., poet, 551.
Globe, 520.
Glorieux, 411.
Godeau, A. (1605-1672), poet, 278.
Golden Violet, etc., 32, 33.
Gombaud, J. Ogier de (1570-1666), poet, 276.
Gomberville, Marin le Roy Seigneur de (1600-1647), poet and novelist,
278, 322.
Gourville, Jean Hérault de (d. 1703), memoir-writer, 343.
Graal, the Holy, Chapter iv., passim.
Grammont, Chevalier de (see Hamilton).
---- Maréchal de, and his family, literary work of, 344.
Grandes Chroniques de France, 128, 130, 131.
Grand Cyrus, 321.
Grandeur et Décadence des Romains, 476.
Grands Capitaines, 250.
Grands Jours d'Auvergne, 389.
Gratien du Pont (16th cent.), poet, 172.
Page 628
Great St. Graal, 35.
Gréban, Arnoul and Simon (15th cent.), dramatists, 115.
Gresset, J. B. L. (1709-1777), poet and dramatist, 399, 412.
Grévin, J. (1540-1570), dramatist and poet, 210, 223.
Grimm, F. M. (1723-1807), miscellanist, 445.
Gringore, Pierre (1478-1544), poet and dramatist, 169, 216, 217.
Grondeur, 317.
Guénée, Antoine (1717-1803), controversialist, 460, 474.
Guiart, Guillaume (13th cent.), chronicler, 76.
Guillaume de Palerne, 96.
Guise, François, Duke of (1519-1563), memoir-writer, 257.
---- Henri, Duke of (1614-1663), memoir-writer, 344.
Guizot, F. P. G. (1787-1874), historian, &c., 573.
Guttinguer, U. (1785-1866), poet, 543.
Guyot de Provins, trouvère, 78.
---- or Kyot, author of Provençal Percevale, trouvère, 30.
Habert, François (1520-1562 or 1574), poet, 178.
---- Philippe (1605-1637), poet, 178.
Gréban, Arnoul and Simon (15th cent.), dramatists, 115.
Gresset, J. B. L. (1709-1777), poet and dramatist, 399, 412.
Grévin, J. (1540-1570), dramatist and poet, 210, 223.
Grimm, F. M. (1723-1807), miscellanist, 445.
Gringore, Pierre (1478-1544), poet and dramatist, 169, 216, 217.
Grondeur, 317.
Guénée, Antoine (1717-1803), controversialist, 460, 474.
Guiart, Guillaume (13th cent.), chronicler, 76.
Guillaume de Palerne, 96.
Guise, François, Duke of (1519-1563), memoir-writer, 257.
---- Henri, Duke of (1614-1663), memoir-writer, 344.
Guizot, F. P. G. (1787-1874), historian, &c., 573.
Guttinguer, U. (1785-1866), poet, 543.
Guyot de Provins, trouvère, 78.
---- or Kyot, author of Provençal Percevale, trouvère, 30.
Habert, François (1520-1562 or 1574), poet, 178.
---- Philippe (1605-1637), poet, 178.
Page 629
Haillan, du (1537-1610), historian, 258.
Halévy, L. (b. 1834), dramatist and novelist, 555.
Hamilton, Anthony (1640-1720), poet and tale-teller, 288, 328.
Han d'Islande, 521.
Hardy, Alexandre (1560-1631), dramatist, 292.
Helgaire, Bp., 3 note 2.
Helvétius, Claude Adrien (1715-1771), philosopher, 493.
Hénault, E. J. F., President (1685-1770), lawyer, &c., 443.
Henriade, 396, 398, 399.
Henri de Valenciennes (12th cent.), chronicler, 129.
Heptameron, 191, 192.
Héraclius, 298.
Herberay des Essarts, Nicolas (d. 1550), translator, 237.
Hernani, 522.
Héroet, Antoine (d. 1568), poet, 179.
Histoire Amoureuse des Gaules, 345.
Histoire Ancienne, 438.
Histoire Comique de Francion, 324, 325.
Histoire de l'Anarchie de Pologne, 441.
Halévy, L. (b. 1834), dramatist and novelist, 555.
Hamilton, Anthony (1640-1720), poet and tale-teller, 288, 328.
Han d'Islande, 521.
Hardy, Alexandre (1560-1631), dramatist, 292.
Helgaire, Bp., 3 note 2.
Helvétius, Claude Adrien (1715-1771), philosopher, 493.
Hénault, E. J. F., President (1685-1770), lawyer, &c., 443.
Henriade, 396, 398, 399.
Henri de Valenciennes (12th cent.), chronicler, 129.
Heptameron, 191, 192.
Héraclius, 298.
Herberay des Essarts, Nicolas (d. 1550), translator, 237.
Hernani, 522.
Héroet, Antoine (d. 1568), poet, 179.
Histoire Amoureuse des Gaules, 345.
Histoire Ancienne, 438.
Histoire Comique de Francion, 324, 325.
Histoire de l'Anarchie de Pologne, 441.
Page 630
Histoire de Port Royal, 528.
Histoire Littéraire de la France, 502.
Histoire des Indes, 440.
Histoire des Oracles, 454.
Histoire des Variations des Églises Protestantes, 381.
Historia Britonum, 34.
Historiettes of Tallemant des Réaux, 391.
Holbach, P. H. Thiry Baron d' (1723-1789), philosophe, 494, 501.
Horace, 297.
Housse Partie, 51.
Hugo, Victor Marie (1802-1885), poet, novelist, and dramatist, 521-527.
Hugues Capet, 21.
Hugues de Rotelande, trouvère, 46.
Huon de Bordeaux, 19, 21.
Huon de Méry (13th cent.), trouvère, 95.
Iambes (Barbier), 545.
Iambes (Chénier), 403.
Illusion comique, 295, 297.
Histoire Littéraire de la France, 502.
Histoire des Indes, 440.
Histoire des Oracles, 454.
Histoire des Variations des Églises Protestantes, 381.
Historia Britonum, 34.
Historiettes of Tallemant des Réaux, 391.
Holbach, P. H. Thiry Baron d' (1723-1789), philosophe, 494, 501.
Horace, 297.
Housse Partie, 51.
Hugo, Victor Marie (1802-1885), poet, novelist, and dramatist, 521-527.
Hugues Capet, 21.
Hugues de Rotelande, trouvère, 46.
Huon de Bordeaux, 19, 21.
Huon de Méry (13th cent.), trouvère, 95.
Iambes (Barbier), 545.
Iambes (Chénier), 403.
Illusion comique, 295, 297.
Page 631
Impromptu de Versailles, 311.
Inès de Castro, 406.
Institution Chrétienne, 230.
Iphigénie, 303.
Itinéraire de Paris à Jérusalem, 430, 431.
Jacques de Lalaing, 148.
Jacques le Fataliste, 424, 428.
Jalousie du Barbouillé, 310, 312.
Jamyn, Amadis (1530-1585), poet, 204, 209, 214.
Janin, J. (1804-1874), novelist and critic, 557.
Jargon, 157.
Jaufré, 30.
Jean de Tuim (13th cent.), trouvère, 146.
Jeannin, Pierre (1546-1622), diplomatist, 256.
Jehan de Paris, 103 note.
Jeu du Prince des Sots et de Mère Sotte, 121, 216.
Jeu parti, 66.
Joconde, 283.
Inès de Castro, 406.
Institution Chrétienne, 230.
Iphigénie, 303.
Itinéraire de Paris à Jérusalem, 430, 431.
Jacques de Lalaing, 148.
Jacques le Fataliste, 424, 428.
Jalousie du Barbouillé, 310, 312.
Jamyn, Amadis (1530-1585), poet, 204, 209, 214.
Janin, J. (1804-1874), novelist and critic, 557.
Jargon, 157.
Jaufré, 30.
Jean de Tuim (13th cent.), trouvère, 146.
Jeannin, Pierre (1546-1622), diplomatist, 256.
Jehan de Paris, 103 note.
Jeu du Prince des Sots et de Mère Sotte, 121, 216.
Jeu parti, 66.
Joconde, 283.
Page 632
Jodelle, Étienne (1532-1573), dramatist and poet, 219, 220.
Joinville, Jean de (1224-1319), chronicler, 130, 131.
example from, 137.
Joly, Claude (1607-1700), and Guy. (17th cent.), memoir-writers, 340.
Jonah, Book of, 4.
Joubert, Joseph (1754-1824), pensée-writer, 467-469.
Joufrois de Poitiers, 98.
Jourdains de Blaivies, 19, 21.
Juives, 225.
Julie, 486.
Jus de la Feuillie, 115.
Juvenal des Ursins, Jean (1350-1431), chronicler, 135, 136.
Karr, A. (b. 1801), novelist and journalist, 557.
Krüdener, Madame de (1764-1824), novelist, 434.
Labé, Louise (1526-1566), poetess, 178, 179, 208, 288, 543.
Labiche, E. (b. 1815), dramatist, 554.
La Boëtie, Étienne de (1530-1563), poet, &c., 209, 242, 249.
La Borderie (16th cent.), poet, 179.
Joinville, Jean de (1224-1319), chronicler, 130, 131.
example from, 137.
Joly, Claude (1607-1700), and Guy. (17th cent.), memoir-writers, 340.
Jonah, Book of, 4.
Joubert, Joseph (1754-1824), pensée-writer, 467-469.
Joufrois de Poitiers, 98.
Jourdains de Blaivies, 19, 21.
Juives, 225.
Julie, 486.
Jus de la Feuillie, 115.
Juvenal des Ursins, Jean (1350-1431), chronicler, 135, 136.
Karr, A. (b. 1801), novelist and journalist, 557.
Krüdener, Madame de (1764-1824), novelist, 434.
Labé, Louise (1526-1566), poetess, 178, 179, 208, 288, 543.
Labiche, E. (b. 1815), dramatist, 554.
La Boëtie, Étienne de (1530-1563), poet, &c., 209, 242, 249.
La Borderie (16th cent.), poet, 179.
Page 633
La Bruyère, Jean de (1645-1696), novelist, 364-367.
La Calprenède, Gauthier de Coste, Seigneur de (1610-1653), novelist, 321.
La Châtre, E. de (17th cent.), memoir-writer, 339, 343.
La Chaussée, Nivelle de (1692-1754), dramatist, 411, 415.
La Condamine, C. M. de (1701-1774), scientific writer, 501.
Lacordaire, J. B. H. (1802-1861), journalist and preacher, 569.
Lacretelle, C. J. D. (1766-1855), historian, 464, 465.
La Fare, Marquis de (1644-1712), poet, 288.
La Fayette, Madame de (1634-1693), novelist, 322, 325-328, 362, 419.
La Fontaine, Jean (1631-1697), poet and dramatist, 280-284.
Lafosse, A. de (1653-1708), dramatist, 307.
Lagrange-Chancel, F. J. de (1677-1758), poet, 397.
La Harpe, J. F. de (1739-1803), dramatist and critic, 459, 465, 468.
Lais, 6, 73, 100.
La Jacquerie, 537.
La Légende des Siècles, 524, 525.
La Marche, O. de la (15th cent.), chronicler, 134.
Lamartine, Alphonse Prat de (1791-1869), poet, historian, and novelist, 513.
La Calprenède, Gauthier de Coste, Seigneur de (1610-1653), novelist, 321.
La Châtre, E. de (17th cent.), memoir-writer, 339, 343.
La Chaussée, Nivelle de (1692-1754), dramatist, 411, 415.
La Condamine, C. M. de (1701-1774), scientific writer, 501.
Lacordaire, J. B. H. (1802-1861), journalist and preacher, 569.
Lacretelle, C. J. D. (1766-1855), historian, 464, 465.
La Fare, Marquis de (1644-1712), poet, 288.
La Fayette, Madame de (1634-1693), novelist, 322, 325-328, 362, 419.
La Fontaine, Jean (1631-1697), poet and dramatist, 280-284.
Lafosse, A. de (1653-1708), dramatist, 307.
Lagrange-Chancel, F. J. de (1677-1758), poet, 397.
La Harpe, J. F. de (1739-1803), dramatist and critic, 459, 465, 468.
Lais, 6, 73, 100.
La Jacquerie, 537.
La Légende des Siècles, 524, 525.
La Marche, O. de la (15th cent.), chronicler, 134.
Lamartine, Alphonse Prat de (1791-1869), poet, historian, and novelist, 513.
Page 634
Lambert (li Cors), 12th cent., trouvère, 43.
Lamennais, Félicité Robert de (1782-1854), theologian and journalist, 514.
La Mettrie, J. O. de (1709-1757), philosopher, 492.
La Morte Amoureuse, 539.
La Mothe le Vayer, F. de (1588-1672), moralist, &c., 375.
La Motte, Antoine Houdart de (1672-1731), dramatist and critic, 455, 457.
Lancelot du Lac, 36, 38, 39, 40.
Lanfrey, P. (1828-1877), historian, 578.
Langue d'Oc, 26, 27.
Langue d'Oil, 26.
L'Année Terrible, 525.
La Noue, F. de (1651-1691), memoir-writer, 253.
---- J. B. Sauvé (1701-1761) dramatist, 413.
La Nouvelle Héloïse, 425, 488.
La Péruse, Jean de (16th cent.), poet, 209.
Lapidaries, 145.
Laprade, V. de (1812-1887), poet, 547.
La Princesse de Clèves, 326.
Larivey, Pierre (b. c. 1540), comic author, 226.
Lamennais, Félicité Robert de (1782-1854), theologian and journalist, 514.
La Mettrie, J. O. de (1709-1757), philosopher, 492.
La Morte Amoureuse, 539.
La Mothe le Vayer, F. de (1588-1672), moralist, &c., 375.
La Motte, Antoine Houdart de (1672-1731), dramatist and critic, 455, 457.
Lancelot du Lac, 36, 38, 39, 40.
Lanfrey, P. (1828-1877), historian, 578.
Langue d'Oc, 26, 27.
Langue d'Oil, 26.
L'Année Terrible, 525.
La Noue, F. de (1651-1691), memoir-writer, 253.
---- J. B. Sauvé (1701-1761) dramatist, 413.
La Nouvelle Héloïse, 425, 488.
La Péruse, Jean de (16th cent.), poet, 209.
Lapidaries, 145.
Laprade, V. de (1812-1887), poet, 547.
La Princesse de Clèves, 326.
Larivey, Pierre (b. c. 1540), comic author, 226.
Page 635
La Rochefoucauld, François de Marcillac, Duke de (1613-1680), moralist
and memoir-writer, 326, 327, 362-364.
La Salle, A. de (1398-1460?), romance-writer, 146-148, 152, 156.
La Taille, Jacques de (1541-1562), poet and dramatist, 210, 223.
La Taille, Jean de (1540-1608), poet and dramatist, 210, 223, 226.
Latin to French, relation of, 1-3.
Latin Literature, influence of, on Early French, 2.
La Tour Landry, Chevalier de (14th cent.), moralist, 142, 143.
L'Avare, 312.
Laws of William the Conqueror, 144.
League, preachers of the, 232.
Le Bel Inconnu, 97.
Lebel, Jean (14th cent.), chronicler, 131, 132.
Lebrun, Escouchard (1729-1807), poet, 400-401.
Le Capitaine Fracasse, 539.
Le Cid, 505.
Leconte de Lisle, C. M. R. (b. 1818), poet, 549.
L'Écossaise, 291, 461.
Leger, St., Life of, 4, 6.
and memoir-writer, 326, 327, 362-364.
La Salle, A. de (1398-1460?), romance-writer, 146-148, 152, 156.
La Taille, Jacques de (1541-1562), poet and dramatist, 210, 223.
La Taille, Jean de (1540-1608), poet and dramatist, 210, 223, 226.
Latin to French, relation of, 1-3.
Latin Literature, influence of, on Early French, 2.
La Tour Landry, Chevalier de (14th cent.), moralist, 142, 143.
L'Avare, 312.
Laws of William the Conqueror, 144.
League, preachers of the, 232.
Le Bel Inconnu, 97.
Lebel, Jean (14th cent.), chronicler, 131, 132.
Lebrun, Escouchard (1729-1807), poet, 400-401.
Le Capitaine Fracasse, 539.
Le Cid, 505.
Leconte de Lisle, C. M. R. (b. 1818), poet, 549.
L'Écossaise, 291, 461.
Leger, St., Life of, 4, 6.
Page 636
Législation Primitive, 408.
Legouvé, G. M. J. G. (1764-1812), poet and dramatist, 409.
---- Ernest (b. 1807), dramatist, 554.
Le Houx, Jean (d. 1616), poet, 280.
Le Lépreux de la Cité d'Aoste, 434.
L'Empereur Constant, 147.
Le Roi Flore et la belle Jehanne, 147.
Le Maire de Belges, J. (1475-1548), poet and historian, 169, 235.
Lemercier, N. (1771-1840), poet and dramatist, 403, 409, 414.
Lemierre, A. M. (1723-1793), poet, 399.
Lenient, C. F. (b. 1826), critic, 565.
Leroy, Pierre (16th cent.), political writer, 260.
Lesage, Alain René (1668-1747), novelist and dramatist, 409, 414, 417,
418.
Les Châtiments, 524, 538.
Les Contemplations, 524.
Les Contemporaines, 428.
Lescurel, Jehannot de (14th cent.), poet, 102, 104.
ballade from, 106.
Legouvé, G. M. J. G. (1764-1812), poet and dramatist, 409.
---- Ernest (b. 1807), dramatist, 554.
Le Houx, Jean (d. 1616), poet, 280.
Le Lépreux de la Cité d'Aoste, 434.
L'Empereur Constant, 147.
Le Roi Flore et la belle Jehanne, 147.
Le Maire de Belges, J. (1475-1548), poet and historian, 169, 235.
Lemercier, N. (1771-1840), poet and dramatist, 403, 409, 414.
Lemierre, A. M. (1723-1793), poet, 399.
Lenient, C. F. (b. 1826), critic, 565.
Leroy, Pierre (16th cent.), political writer, 260.
Lesage, Alain René (1668-1747), novelist and dramatist, 409, 414, 417,
418.
Les Châtiments, 524, 538.
Les Contemplations, 524.
Les Contemporaines, 428.
Lescurel, Jehannot de (14th cent.), poet, 102, 104.
ballade from, 106.
Page 637
Les Misérables, 524.
Les Quatre Vents de l'Esprit, 525.
Lespinasse, Mademoiselle de (1732-1776), letter-writer, 446.
Les Saisnes, 21.
L'Estoile, Pierre de (16th cent.), memoir-writer, 255.
Lettres de Quelques Juifs, 460.
Lettres du Sépulcre, 144.
Lettres Persanes, 475, 476.
Le Vavasseur, L. G. (b. 1819), poet and critic, 550.
L'Homme-Machine, 493.
L'Homme qui Rit, 524.
L'Hospital, Michel de (1505-1573), 249.
Liber de Creaturis, 79.
Lingua romana rustica, 2, 140.
L'Isle, C. J. Rouget de (1760-1836), poet, 405.
Literature proper, beginning of, 7.
Littré, E. (1801-1881), positivist and philologist, 567, 568.
Livre des Cent Ballades, 106.
Livre des faits du Maréchal de Bouciqualt, 135.
Les Quatre Vents de l'Esprit, 525.
Lespinasse, Mademoiselle de (1732-1776), letter-writer, 446.
Les Saisnes, 21.
L'Estoile, Pierre de (16th cent.), memoir-writer, 255.
Lettres de Quelques Juifs, 460.
Lettres du Sépulcre, 144.
Lettres Persanes, 475, 476.
Le Vavasseur, L. G. (b. 1819), poet and critic, 550.
L'Homme-Machine, 493.
L'Homme qui Rit, 524.
L'Hospital, Michel de (1505-1573), 249.
Liber de Creaturis, 79.
Lingua romana rustica, 2, 140.
L'Isle, C. J. Rouget de (1760-1836), poet, 405.
Literature proper, beginning of, 7.
Littré, E. (1801-1881), positivist and philologist, 567, 568.
Livre des Cent Ballades, 106.
Livre des faits du Maréchal de Bouciqualt, 135.
Page 638
Livres de raison, 145.
Loret, J. (d. 1665), poet and gazetteer, 289.
Lorris, William of (13th cent.), trouvère, 82, 87.
Lutrin, 285, 286.
Lyrics, origins of, 62.
Mably, Gabriel Bonnot de (1709-1785), historian and publicist, 440.
Macaire, 21.
Macette, 268.
Machault, Guillaume de (c. 1284-1377), poet, 102-104.
Chanson Balladée from, 107.
Mademoiselle, La Grande, see Montpensier.
Magny, Olivier de (d. 1560), poet, 207, 208.
Mahomet, 408.
Maillard, Olivier (1440-1502), preacher, 166.
Maimbourg, L. (1610-1688), historian, 333.
Maintenon, Madame de (1635-1719), letter-writer, 323.
Mairet, Jean (1604-1686), dramatist, 293.
Maistre, Joseph Marie de (1753-1821), philosopher and political writer,
496.
Loret, J. (d. 1665), poet and gazetteer, 289.
Lorris, William of (13th cent.), trouvère, 82, 87.
Lutrin, 285, 286.
Lyrics, origins of, 62.
Mably, Gabriel Bonnot de (1709-1785), historian and publicist, 440.
Macaire, 21.
Macette, 268.
Machault, Guillaume de (c. 1284-1377), poet, 102-104.
Chanson Balladée from, 107.
Mademoiselle, La Grande, see Montpensier.
Magny, Olivier de (d. 1560), poet, 207, 208.
Mahomet, 408.
Maillard, Olivier (1440-1502), preacher, 166.
Maimbourg, L. (1610-1688), historian, 333.
Maintenon, Madame de (1635-1719), letter-writer, 323.
Mairet, Jean (1604-1686), dramatist, 293.
Maistre, Joseph Marie de (1753-1821), philosopher and political writer,
496.
Page 639
Maistre, Xavier de (1763-1852), novelist, 434.
Malade Imaginaire, 313, 315.
Malebranche, Nicolas (1638-1715), philosopher, 377.
Malfilâtre, J. C. L. de Clinchamp, (1733-1767), poet, 401.
Malherbe, François de (1555-1628), poet, 274-276.
school of, 276.
Manekine, 97.
Manon Lescaut, 416, 422.
Mantel Mautaillié, 51.
Map, Walter (12th cent.), prose romancer, 34, 35, 36, 38, 39, 127.
Maquet, A. (1813-1888) dramatist and novelist, 548.
Marguerite d'Angoulême, Queen of Navarre (1422-1549), poetess and tale-
teller, 190, 191.
Marguerite de Valois, Queen of Navarre and France (1553-1615), memoir-
writer, 254.
Marguerites de la Marguerite des Princesses, 178, 192.
Mariage de Figaro, 413.
Mariamne, 292, 293.
Marianne, 420, 423.
Marie de France (13th cent.), poetess, 55, 60, 61, 73.
Malade Imaginaire, 313, 315.
Malebranche, Nicolas (1638-1715), philosopher, 377.
Malfilâtre, J. C. L. de Clinchamp, (1733-1767), poet, 401.
Malherbe, François de (1555-1628), poet, 274-276.
school of, 276.
Manekine, 97.
Manon Lescaut, 416, 422.
Mantel Mautaillié, 51.
Map, Walter (12th cent.), prose romancer, 34, 35, 36, 38, 39, 127.
Maquet, A. (1813-1888) dramatist and novelist, 548.
Marguerite d'Angoulême, Queen of Navarre (1422-1549), poetess and tale-
teller, 190, 191.
Marguerite de Valois, Queen of Navarre and France (1553-1615), memoir-
writer, 254.
Marguerites de la Marguerite des Princesses, 178, 192.
Mariage de Figaro, 413.
Mariamne, 292, 293.
Marianne, 420, 423.
Marie de France (13th cent.), poetess, 55, 60, 61, 73.
Page 640
Marigny, J. Carpentier de (17th cent.), poet, 278.
Marillac, M. de (1573-1632), memoir-writer, 336.
'Marivaudage,' 412, 420, 435, 453.
Marivaux, Pierre Carlet de (1688-1763), novelist and dramatist, 412, 419,
421, 423.
Marmontel, Jean François (1723-1799), dramatist, critic, etc., 413, 427,
458, 468.
Marot, Clément (c. 1497-1544), poet, 172-177, 209, 269.
school of, 177, 180.
Marot, Jean (1463-1523), poet, 165.
Martial d'Auvergne (c. 1420-1508), poet, 163.
Martin, H. (1810-1887), historian, 578.
Mascaron, Jean (1634-1703), preacher, 389.
Massillon, Jean Baptiste (1663-1742), preacher, 386, 388.
Maucroix, F. de (1619-1708), poet, 278.
Maupassant, G. de, poet and novelist, 552.
Maupertuis, Pierre Louis Moreau de (1698-1759), mathematician and
physicist, 501.
Maynard, Jean (1582-1646), poet, 276.
Mazarinades, 323, 333, 351.
Marillac, M. de (1573-1632), memoir-writer, 336.
'Marivaudage,' 412, 420, 435, 453.
Marivaux, Pierre Carlet de (1688-1763), novelist and dramatist, 412, 419,
421, 423.
Marmontel, Jean François (1723-1799), dramatist, critic, etc., 413, 427,
458, 468.
Marot, Clément (c. 1497-1544), poet, 172-177, 209, 269.
school of, 177, 180.
Marot, Jean (1463-1523), poet, 165.
Martial d'Auvergne (c. 1420-1508), poet, 163.
Martin, H. (1810-1887), historian, 578.
Mascaron, Jean (1634-1703), preacher, 389.
Massillon, Jean Baptiste (1663-1742), preacher, 386, 388.
Maucroix, F. de (1619-1708), poet, 278.
Maupassant, G. de, poet and novelist, 552.
Maupertuis, Pierre Louis Moreau de (1698-1759), mathematician and
physicist, 501.
Maynard, Jean (1582-1646), poet, 276.
Mazarinades, 323, 333, 351.
Page 641
Médecin malgré lui, 312.
Médecin Volant, 310.
Médée, 295, 297.
Méditations (Descartes), 370.
Méditations (Lamartine), 513, 520.
Mélite, 295, 297.
Mémoires de Grammont, 328.
Mémoires d'Outre Tombe, 430.
Ménage, G. de (1613-1692), scholar, 349, 367 note.
Ménippée, Satyre, 259-264, 271, 358.
Menot, Michel (1440-1518), preacher, 166.
Menteur, 297, 299, 308.
Menteur, Suite du, 297.
Méon, Dominique Martin (1748-1829), scholar, 502.
Méraugis de Portlesguez, 82, 95.
Mercure Galant, 316.
Mercuriales (D'Aguesseau), 457.
Mérimée, Prosper (1803-1870), novelist, historian, and miscellaneous
writer, 435, 536, 542.
Médecin Volant, 310.
Médée, 295, 297.
Méditations (Descartes), 370.
Méditations (Lamartine), 513, 520.
Mélite, 295, 297.
Mémoires de Grammont, 328.
Mémoires d'Outre Tombe, 430.
Ménage, G. de (1613-1692), scholar, 349, 367 note.
Ménippée, Satyre, 259-264, 271, 358.
Menot, Michel (1440-1518), preacher, 166.
Menteur, 297, 299, 308.
Menteur, Suite du, 297.
Méon, Dominique Martin (1748-1829), scholar, 502.
Méraugis de Portlesguez, 82, 95.
Mercure Galant, 316.
Mercuriales (D'Aguesseau), 457.
Mérimée, Prosper (1803-1870), novelist, historian, and miscellaneous
writer, 435, 536, 542.
Page 642
Merlin, 36.
Mérope, 408.
Méry, J. (1798-1866), poet and novelist, 546.
Meschinot, Jean (1415 or 1420-1491 or 1509), poet, 165.
Messéniennes, 519.
Métromanie, 404, 411.
Meung, Jean de (13th cent.), political writer and poet, 83, 84, 86, 104.
Mézeray, François Eudes de (1610-1683), historian, 333, 334.
Michel, Francisque (1809-1888), scholar, 13.
Michel, Jean (d. 1495), mystery-writer, 112.
Michelet, Jules (1798-1874), historian, etc., 575.
Micromégas, 423.
Mignardises Amoureuses de l'Admirée, 208.
Mignet, F. (b. 1796), historian, 574, 575.
Millevoye, C. (1782-1816), poet, 543.
Miracles de la Vierge, 111, 114.
Misanthrope, 310, 312, 318.
Moïse Sauvé, 279.
Molière, J. B. Poquelin (1622-1673), dramatist, 309-315.
Mérope, 408.
Méry, J. (1798-1866), poet and novelist, 546.
Meschinot, Jean (1415 or 1420-1491 or 1509), poet, 165.
Messéniennes, 519.
Métromanie, 404, 411.
Meung, Jean de (13th cent.), political writer and poet, 83, 84, 86, 104.
Mézeray, François Eudes de (1610-1683), historian, 333, 334.
Michel, Francisque (1809-1888), scholar, 13.
Michel, Jean (d. 1495), mystery-writer, 112.
Michelet, Jules (1798-1874), historian, etc., 575.
Micromégas, 423.
Mignardises Amoureuses de l'Admirée, 208.
Mignet, F. (b. 1796), historian, 574, 575.
Millevoye, C. (1782-1816), poet, 543.
Miracles de la Vierge, 111, 114.
Misanthrope, 310, 312, 318.
Moïse Sauvé, 279.
Molière, J. B. Poquelin (1622-1673), dramatist, 309-315.
Page 643
his comedy, 318.
Molinet, Jehan (d. 1507), poet and chronicler, 165, 169.
Moniage Guillaume, 19.
Monnier, H. (1799-1877), novelist and miscellaneous writer, 566.
Monologue, 116.
Monologue du Gendarme Cassé, 163.
Monselet, C. (1829-1888), miscellaneous writer, 566.
Monstrelet, Enguerrand de (c. 1390-1453), chronicler, 134.
Montaigne, Michel Eyquem, Sieur de (1533-1592), 241-248.
Montalembert, C. F. de (1810-1870), historian and political writer, 569.
Montchrestien, Antoine de (d. 1621), dramatist, 291.
Montégut, E. (b. 1826), critic, 564.
Montesquieu, Charles de Secondat, Baron de (1689-1755), political
philosopher, 475-478.
Montfleury, A. J. (1640-1685), actor and dramatist, 315.
Montluc, Blaise de (1502-1577), memoir-writer, 252.
Montpensier, A. M. L. de (La Grande Mademoiselle), (1627-1693),
memoir-writer, 341.
Monuments, Early, 3-6.
Moralité des Enfans de Maintenant, 120.
Molinet, Jehan (d. 1507), poet and chronicler, 165, 169.
Moniage Guillaume, 19.
Monnier, H. (1799-1877), novelist and miscellaneous writer, 566.
Monologue, 116.
Monologue du Gendarme Cassé, 163.
Monselet, C. (1829-1888), miscellaneous writer, 566.
Monstrelet, Enguerrand de (c. 1390-1453), chronicler, 134.
Montaigne, Michel Eyquem, Sieur de (1533-1592), 241-248.
Montalembert, C. F. de (1810-1870), historian and political writer, 569.
Montchrestien, Antoine de (d. 1621), dramatist, 291.
Montégut, E. (b. 1826), critic, 564.
Montesquieu, Charles de Secondat, Baron de (1689-1755), political
philosopher, 475-478.
Montfleury, A. J. (1640-1685), actor and dramatist, 315.
Montluc, Blaise de (1502-1577), memoir-writer, 252.
Montpensier, A. M. L. de (La Grande Mademoiselle), (1627-1693),
memoir-writer, 341.
Monuments, Early, 3-6.
Moralité des Enfans de Maintenant, 120.
Page 644
Moralities, 120, 216, 217, 218.
Moreau, Hégésippe (1810-1838), poet, 546.
Morellet, André F. (1727-1819), critic and economist, 490.
Mort Artus, 36, 39.
Mort de Pompée, 297.
Motteville, Madame de (1612-1689), memoir-writer, 338.
Mouskès, Philippe (1215-1283), chronicler, 76.
Moyen de Parvenir, 194.
Mummolinus, St., bishop of Noyon, 3, 140.
Mundus, caro, daemonia, 121, 218.
Murger, H. (1822-1861), novelist, 559.
Muset, Colin (13th cent.), trouvère, 69.
Musset, Alfred de (1810-1857), poet, novelist, and dramatist, 534, 540, 541,
545.
Mysteries and Miracle Plays, 110-113, 153, 216, 218.
Mystère de Saint Louis, 216, 217.
Mystère du Viel Testament, 112, 113.
Mystery of Adam, 111.
Moreau, Hégésippe (1810-1838), poet, 546.
Morellet, André F. (1727-1819), critic and economist, 490.
Mort Artus, 36, 39.
Mort de Pompée, 297.
Motteville, Madame de (1612-1689), memoir-writer, 338.
Mouskès, Philippe (1215-1283), chronicler, 76.
Moyen de Parvenir, 194.
Mummolinus, St., bishop of Noyon, 3, 140.
Mundus, caro, daemonia, 121, 218.
Murger, H. (1822-1861), novelist, 559.
Muset, Colin (13th cent.), trouvère, 69.
Musset, Alfred de (1810-1857), poet, novelist, and dramatist, 534, 540, 541,
545.
Mysteries and Miracle Plays, 110-113, 153, 216, 218.
Mystère de Saint Louis, 216, 217.
Mystère du Viel Testament, 112, 113.
Mystery of Adam, 111.
Page 645
Nadaud, G. (b. 1820), poet, 550.
Naimes, Duke, 13, 22.
Nangis, Guillaume de (b. 1302), historian, 130.
Nanine, 413.
Naturalism and naturalists, 161.
Nemours, Marie de (1625-1707), memoir-writer, 338.
Nennius, (9th cent.), chronicler, 34, 35.
Nerval, Gérard de (1805-1857), poet and novelist, 537, 545.
Neveu de Rameau, 425.
Newspapers, 463-465.
Newspapers of the Revolution, 463.
Nicholas of Troyes (16th cent.), novelist, 189.
Nicole, P. (1625-1695), 351, 374.
Nicomède, 298.
Nisard, D. (1806-1888), critic, 565.
Nobla Leyczon, 32.
Nodier, Charles (1780-1844), miscellaneous writer, 518.
Noel du Fail (1520-1591), tale-teller, 193.
Norma, 519.
Naimes, Duke, 13, 22.
Nangis, Guillaume de (b. 1302), historian, 130.
Nanine, 413.
Naturalism and naturalists, 161.
Nemours, Marie de (1625-1707), memoir-writer, 338.
Nennius, (9th cent.), chronicler, 34, 35.
Nerval, Gérard de (1805-1857), poet and novelist, 537, 545.
Neveu de Rameau, 425.
Newspapers, 463-465.
Newspapers of the Revolution, 463.
Nicholas of Troyes (16th cent.), novelist, 189.
Nicole, P. (1625-1695), 351, 374.
Nicomède, 298.
Nisard, D. (1806-1888), critic, 565.
Nobla Leyczon, 32.
Nodier, Charles (1780-1844), miscellaneous writer, 518.
Noel du Fail (1520-1591), tale-teller, 193.
Norma, 519.
Page 646
Notre Dame de Paris, 522.
Nouvelles Récréations et Joyeux Devis, 191.
Obermann, 471.
Odes et Ballades, 521.
Œdipe (Corneille), 296, 298.
(Voltaire), 398, 406, 408.
Oisivetés de M. de Vauban, 489.
Old French Literature, revival of study of, 565, 566.
Oraisons Funèbres, 389.
Oresme, Nicholas (1348-1382), translator, 143.
Orientales, 521, 528.
Origins, The, 1-10.
of Chansons de Gestes, 11.
Orléans, Charles d' (1391-1465), poet, 101, 105.
rondel from, 109.
Ossat, Cardinal d' (1536-1604), letter-writer, 255, 256.
Ozanam, F. (1813-1853), critic and historian, 569.
Pailleron, E. (b. 1834), dramatist, 555.
Palaprat, Jean (1650-1721), dramatic author, 347.
Nouvelles Récréations et Joyeux Devis, 191.
Obermann, 471.
Odes et Ballades, 521.
Œdipe (Corneille), 296, 298.
(Voltaire), 398, 406, 408.
Oisivetés de M. de Vauban, 489.
Old French Literature, revival of study of, 565, 566.
Oraisons Funèbres, 389.
Oresme, Nicholas (1348-1382), translator, 143.
Orientales, 521, 528.
Origins, The, 1-10.
of Chansons de Gestes, 11.
Orléans, Charles d' (1391-1465), poet, 101, 105.
rondel from, 109.
Ossat, Cardinal d' (1536-1604), letter-writer, 255, 256.
Ozanam, F. (1813-1853), critic and historian, 569.
Pailleron, E. (b. 1834), dramatist, 555.
Palaprat, Jean (1650-1721), dramatic author, 347.
Page 647
Palissot de Montenoy, Charles (1730-1814), dramatist and critic, 461.
Palissy, Bernard (c. 1510-1589), potter and scientific writer, 238.
Palma-Cayet, P. V. (1525-1610), historian, 255.
Panard, C. F. (1694-1765), poet, 404.
Panhypocrisiade, 403.
Pantagruel, 185, 186, 193, 195, 235, 263, 319.
Pantagruéline Prognostication, 187.
Paré, Amboise (c. 1510-1590), surgeon, 239.
Paris, Paulin (1800-1881), literary historian, 7, 25, 34.
---- Gaston (b. 1839), literary historian, 566.
Parmentier, Jean (1494-1530), poet, 172.
Parnasse, the, and Parnassien School, 551, 552.
Parny, Evariste de (1753-1814), poet, 401.
Paroles d'un Croyant, 515.
Partenopex de Blois, 96.
Pascal, Blaise (1623-1662), moralist, 356-360.
Pasquier, Étienne (1529-1665), legist and antiquary, 236, 238.
Passerat, Jean (1534-1662), poet, 210, 260, 263.
Palissy, Bernard (c. 1510-1589), potter and scientific writer, 238.
Palma-Cayet, P. V. (1525-1610), historian, 255.
Panard, C. F. (1694-1765), poet, 404.
Panhypocrisiade, 403.
Pantagruel, 185, 186, 193, 195, 235, 263, 319.
Pantagruéline Prognostication, 187.
Paré, Amboise (c. 1510-1590), surgeon, 239.
Paris, Paulin (1800-1881), literary historian, 7, 25, 34.
---- Gaston (b. 1839), literary historian, 566.
Parmentier, Jean (1494-1530), poet, 172.
Parnasse, the, and Parnassien School, 551, 552.
Parny, Evariste de (1753-1814), poet, 401.
Paroles d'un Croyant, 515.
Partenopex de Blois, 96.
Pascal, Blaise (1623-1662), moralist, 356-360.
Pasquier, Étienne (1529-1665), legist and antiquary, 236, 238.
Passerat, Jean (1534-1662), poet, 210, 260, 263.
Page 648
Passion, Poem on the, 4-5.
mystery of the, 112, 123.
Pastourelle, 64, 65, 67, 100, 115.
specimen of, 65.
Pathelin, 117, 125, 148.
Patru, O. (1604-1681), lawyer, &c., 367 note.
Paul et Virginie, 427.
Paulmy, A. R. de Voyer d'Argenson, Marquis de (1722-1787), historian and
bibliographer, 502.
Pavillon, E. (1632-1705), poet, 279.
Peau de Chagrin, 532, 533.
Pédant Joué, 308, 324.
Pellisson, P. (1624-1693), historian, 334.
Pensées (Joubert), 468.
Pensées (Pascal), 357, 359, 374.
Perceforest, 147.
Percevale, 36, 39, 92, 95.
Péréfixe, de Beaumont de (1605-1671), historian, 333.
Period of Composition of Chansons de Gestes, 12.
Perrault, Charles (1628-1703), fairy-tale-writer, 328.
mystery of the, 112, 123.
Pastourelle, 64, 65, 67, 100, 115.
specimen of, 65.
Pathelin, 117, 125, 148.
Patru, O. (1604-1681), lawyer, &c., 367 note.
Paul et Virginie, 427.
Paulmy, A. R. de Voyer d'Argenson, Marquis de (1722-1787), historian and
bibliographer, 502.
Pavillon, E. (1632-1705), poet, 279.
Peau de Chagrin, 532, 533.
Pédant Joué, 308, 324.
Pellisson, P. (1624-1693), historian, 334.
Pensées (Joubert), 468.
Pensées (Pascal), 357, 359, 374.
Perceforest, 147.
Percevale, 36, 39, 92, 95.
Péréfixe, de Beaumont de (1605-1671), historian, 333.
Period of Composition of Chansons de Gestes, 12.
Perrault, Charles (1628-1703), fairy-tale-writer, 328.
Page 649
Perrot d'Ablancourt (1606-1664), translator, 367 note.
Pertharite, 298.
Petit, Jean (1360-1411), theologian and publicist, 141, 148.
Petit Jean de Saintré, 148, 149.
Peyrat, N. ('Napol le Pyrénéen'), poet, 548.
Phèdre, 303, 306.
Philippe de Rémy, Seigneur de Beaumanoir (13th cent.), poet and
jurisconsult, 97, 145.
Philosophe movement, Bk. iv. Ch. ii.-vi. passim.
'Philosophe,' 17th-cent. meaning of the word, 375 note.
Pibrac, Guy de Faur de (1529-1584), poet, 210.
Pierre de Saint Cloud (13th cent.), trouvère, 53.
Pigault Lebrun (1753-1835), novelist and dramatist, 434.
Piron, J. (1690-1773), poet and dramatist, 404, 405, 410, 411.
Pisan, Christine de (1363-1420), poetess, 86, 102, 104, 105, 135, 144.
Pithou, P. (1539-1596), lawyer and satirist, 260, 262.
Pixérécourt, R. C. G. de (1773-1844), dramatist, 552.
Plaideurs, 303.
Planche, G. (1808-1857), critic, 565.
Pertharite, 298.
Petit, Jean (1360-1411), theologian and publicist, 141, 148.
Petit Jean de Saintré, 148, 149.
Peyrat, N. ('Napol le Pyrénéen'), poet, 548.
Phèdre, 303, 306.
Philippe de Rémy, Seigneur de Beaumanoir (13th cent.), poet and
jurisconsult, 97, 145.
Philosophe movement, Bk. iv. Ch. ii.-vi. passim.
'Philosophe,' 17th-cent. meaning of the word, 375 note.
Pibrac, Guy de Faur de (1529-1584), poet, 210.
Pierre de Saint Cloud (13th cent.), trouvère, 53.
Pigault Lebrun (1753-1835), novelist and dramatist, 434.
Piron, J. (1690-1773), poet and dramatist, 404, 405, 410, 411.
Pisan, Christine de (1363-1420), poetess, 86, 102, 104, 105, 135, 144.
Pithou, P. (1539-1596), lawyer and satirist, 260, 262.
Pixérécourt, R. C. G. de (1773-1844), dramatist, 552.
Plaideurs, 303.
Planche, G. (1808-1857), critic, 565.
Page 650
Planh, 31.
Pleiade, the, 175, 176, 196, 221, 236, 245, 254, 265, 272, 275, 277, 278,
292, 304, 371, 392.
Political economists, 489.
'Politiques,' 260, 262.
Polo, Marco (1256-1323), Venetian traveller, 145.
Polonius, Jean (Labenski) (1790-1855), poet, 543.
Polyeucte, 297, 300.
Pompignan, le Franc de (1709-1784), poet, 399, 408.
Ponsard, F. (1824-1867), dramatist, 553.
Pontalais, Jean du (15th cent.), poet, 170.
Pontchartrain, P. Phélypeaux de (1566-1621), memoir-writer, 336.
Pontis, L. de (b. 1583), memoir-writer, 337.
Port Royal, 374.
Pradon, N. (1632-1698), dramatist, 307.
Précieuses Ridicules, 309, 310, 313, 315, 320.
Presles, Raoul de (1314-1383), translator, 143, 144.
Prévost, Abbé (1697-1763), novelist, 421, 423, 452.
Prise d'Alexandrie, 102.
Pleiade, the, 175, 176, 196, 221, 236, 245, 254, 265, 272, 275, 277, 278,
292, 304, 371, 392.
Political economists, 489.
'Politiques,' 260, 262.
Polo, Marco (1256-1323), Venetian traveller, 145.
Polonius, Jean (Labenski) (1790-1855), poet, 543.
Polyeucte, 297, 300.
Pompignan, le Franc de (1709-1784), poet, 399, 408.
Ponsard, F. (1824-1867), dramatist, 553.
Pontalais, Jean du (15th cent.), poet, 170.
Pontchartrain, P. Phélypeaux de (1566-1621), memoir-writer, 336.
Pontis, L. de (b. 1583), memoir-writer, 337.
Port Royal, 374.
Pradon, N. (1632-1698), dramatist, 307.
Précieuses Ridicules, 309, 310, 313, 315, 320.
Presles, Raoul de (1314-1383), translator, 143, 144.
Prévost, Abbé (1697-1763), novelist, 421, 423, 452.
Prise d'Alexandrie, 102.
Page 651
Prise d'Orange, 19.
'Prophets' (the) of Christ, 110.
Propos Rustiques, 193.
Prose, general use of, 140.
Provençal Literature, 26-33.
range and characteristics of, 27, 63.
periods of, 28;
First, 28,
Second, 29,
Third, 31.
Provençal to French, relation of, 32.
Provinciales, 357, 358, 374.
Prudhomme, Sully, poet, 551.
Psyche (romance), 313.
Psyche (opera), 298.
Pucelle, Chapelain's, 279.
---- Voltaire's, 399.
Pulchérie, 298.
Pyrame et Thisbé, 293.
Pyramus, Denis, 96.
Quatre Fils Aymon, 21.
'Prophets' (the) of Christ, 110.
Propos Rustiques, 193.
Prose, general use of, 140.
Provençal Literature, 26-33.
range and characteristics of, 27, 63.
periods of, 28;
First, 28,
Second, 29,
Third, 31.
Provençal to French, relation of, 32.
Provinciales, 357, 358, 374.
Prudhomme, Sully, poet, 551.
Psyche (romance), 313.
Psyche (opera), 298.
Pucelle, Chapelain's, 279.
---- Voltaire's, 399.
Pulchérie, 298.
Pyrame et Thisbé, 293.
Pyramus, Denis, 96.
Quatre Fils Aymon, 21.
Page 652
Quesnay, François (1694-1774), surgeon and economist, 489.
Quesnes de Bethune (d. 1224), trouvère, 67, 68.
Quest of the Saint Graal, 36, 39, 92.
Quinault (1638-1688), dramatist, 307, 315.
Quinet, E. (1803-1875), historian, etc., 576.
Quinze Joyes du Mariage, 148.
Rabelais, François (1495-1553), 184-190, 235, 239, 241.
his followers, 153, 154, 155.
Rabutin, François de (d. 1852), memoir-writer, 257.
Rabutin, R. de Bussy (1618-1693), memoir-writer, 345.
Racan, Marquis de (1589-1670), poet, 276.
Racine, Jean (1639-1699), dramatist, 301-306.
---- Louis (1692-1763), poet, 397, 398.
Raoul de Cambrai, 20, 23.
Raoul de Houdenc (13th cent.), poet, 82, 95.
Rapin, Nicolas (1535-1608), poet and miscellaneous writer, 210, 260, 263,
267.
---- de Thoyras, P. (1661-1725), historian, 334.
Rapports de Physique et de Morale, 501.
Quesnes de Bethune (d. 1224), trouvère, 67, 68.
Quest of the Saint Graal, 36, 39, 92.
Quinault (1638-1688), dramatist, 307, 315.
Quinet, E. (1803-1875), historian, etc., 576.
Quinze Joyes du Mariage, 148.
Rabelais, François (1495-1553), 184-190, 235, 239, 241.
his followers, 153, 154, 155.
Rabutin, François de (d. 1852), memoir-writer, 257.
Rabutin, R. de Bussy (1618-1693), memoir-writer, 345.
Racan, Marquis de (1589-1670), poet, 276.
Racine, Jean (1639-1699), dramatist, 301-306.
---- Louis (1692-1763), poet, 397, 398.
Raoul de Cambrai, 20, 23.
Raoul de Houdenc (13th cent.), poet, 82, 95.
Rapin, Nicolas (1535-1608), poet and miscellaneous writer, 210, 260, 263,
267.
---- de Thoyras, P. (1661-1725), historian, 334.
Rapports de Physique et de Morale, 501.
Page 653
Raulin (1443-1514), preacher, 166.
Raynal, G. I. F. (1713-1796), historian, 440.
Reboul, Jean (1796-1864), poet, 544.
Recherche de la Vérité, 377.
Recherches de la France, 236.
Refrains, 65, 66.
Regnard, Jean (1656-1710), dramatist, 316.
Regnier, Mathurin (1573-1613), poet and satirist, 264-273.
Reichenau, glossary of, 3.
Relation of French to Latin, 1, 2.
Rémusat, Madame de (1780-1821), memoir and letter-writer, 444.
---- Ch. A. de (1797-1875), philosophical and miscellaneous writer, 567,
568.
Renaissance, the, Bk. ii.
French, 276, 307.
course and result of, 270, 273.
period of, 155, 156, 168, 196, 197, 307.
forerunners of, 156.
prose-writers of, 228.
French, as compared with Italian, 152, 307.
late disenchantment of, 241.
and Middle Ages, 155, 502.
Renan, E. (b. 1823), historian and critic, 570-572.
Raynal, G. I. F. (1713-1796), historian, 440.
Reboul, Jean (1796-1864), poet, 544.
Recherche de la Vérité, 377.
Recherches de la France, 236.
Refrains, 65, 66.
Regnard, Jean (1656-1710), dramatist, 316.
Regnier, Mathurin (1573-1613), poet and satirist, 264-273.
Reichenau, glossary of, 3.
Relation of French to Latin, 1, 2.
Rémusat, Madame de (1780-1821), memoir and letter-writer, 444.
---- Ch. A. de (1797-1875), philosophical and miscellaneous writer, 567,
568.
Renaissance, the, Bk. ii.
French, 276, 307.
course and result of, 270, 273.
period of, 155, 156, 168, 196, 197, 307.
forerunners of, 156.
prose-writers of, 228.
French, as compared with Italian, 152, 307.
late disenchantment of, 241.
and Middle Ages, 155, 502.
Renan, E. (b. 1823), historian and critic, 570-572.
Page 654
Renart, Couronnement de, 55.
Renart le Contrefait, 56, 57.
Renart le Nouvel, 55.
Renart, Ancien, 51-53.
Renaut de Montauban, 21.
René, 431.
Repues Franches, 157.
Restif de La Bretonne, N. (1734-1806), novelist, 428.
Retz, Cardinal de (1614-1679), memoir-writer, 334, 339, 340.
Retroensa, 31.
Revue des Deux Mondes, 548.
Revolution, memoirs of the, 444.
Reynard the Fox, 53-57.
'Rhétoriqueurs,' 106, 164, 169.
Riccoboni, Madame (1713-1792), novelist, 422.
Richelieu, Alphonse Louis du Plessis (1585-1642), memoir-writer, 337.
and the Academy, 504, 505.
Duke de (1696-1788), memoir-writer(?), 443.
Richepin, J., poet and novelist, 552.
Renart le Contrefait, 56, 57.
Renart le Nouvel, 55.
Renart, Ancien, 51-53.
Renaut de Montauban, 21.
René, 431.
Repues Franches, 157.
Restif de La Bretonne, N. (1734-1806), novelist, 428.
Retz, Cardinal de (1614-1679), memoir-writer, 334, 339, 340.
Retroensa, 31.
Revue des Deux Mondes, 548.
Revolution, memoirs of the, 444.
Reynard the Fox, 53-57.
'Rhétoriqueurs,' 106, 164, 169.
Riccoboni, Madame (1713-1792), novelist, 422.
Richelieu, Alphonse Louis du Plessis (1585-1642), memoir-writer, 337.
and the Academy, 504, 505.
Duke de (1696-1788), memoir-writer(?), 443.
Richepin, J., poet and novelist, 552.
Page 655
Rivarol, A. de (1750-1801), journalist and moralist, 466.
Rivet de la Grange, Dom Antoine (1683-1649), Benedictine and savant,
502.
Robert de Borron (12th. cent.), trouvère, 35, 36, 38, 39.
Robertet, F. (d. 1522), letter-writer, 165.
Robin et Marion, 115.
Rodogune, 296, 297, 299, 300.
Rohan, Henri de (1579-1638), memoir-writer, 336.
Roland, Chanson de, 7, 8, 9, 12, 19, 22.
history, argument, &c., specimen of, 12-16.
Rollin, Charles (1661-1741), historian, 437.
Roman Bourgeois, 325.
Roman Comique, 308.
Roman de Brut, 55, 76.
Roman de Dolopathos, 96.
Roman des Eles, 82, 95.
Roman d'Enéas, 46.
Roman de Jules César, 46, 146.
Roman de l'Escouffle, 97.
Roman de la Poire, 87.
Rivet de la Grange, Dom Antoine (1683-1649), Benedictine and savant,
502.
Robert de Borron (12th. cent.), trouvère, 35, 36, 38, 39.
Robertet, F. (d. 1522), letter-writer, 165.
Robin et Marion, 115.
Rodogune, 296, 297, 299, 300.
Rohan, Henri de (1579-1638), memoir-writer, 336.
Roland, Chanson de, 7, 8, 9, 12, 19, 22.
history, argument, &c., specimen of, 12-16.
Rollin, Charles (1661-1741), historian, 437.
Roman Bourgeois, 325.
Roman Comique, 308.
Roman de Brut, 55, 76.
Roman de Dolopathos, 96.
Roman des Eles, 82, 95.
Roman d'Enéas, 46.
Roman de Jules César, 46, 146.
Roman de l'Escouffle, 97.
Roman de la Poire, 87.
Page 656
Roman de la Rose, 77, 82-87, 96, 104, 120, 153, 165, 173, 174, 268.
Roman de Rou, 76.
Roman des Sept Sages, 52, 146.
Roman de Thèbes, 46.
Roman du Chevalier as Deux Espees, 97.
Roman du Renart, 42, 52, 77, 502.
Romans d'Aventures, 40, 91, 92, 93, 95, 97, 98, 237.
Romana Lingua, 2, 3.
Romance, Picaroon, 322.
Romance Tongue, 3.
Romances, Arthurian, 38.
Romances, Heroic, 320.
Romanzen und Pastourellen, 62, 66.
Rondeau and Rondel, 101, 163, 165.
Ronsard, Pierre de (1524-1585), poet, 197-202, 205, 206, 211, 260, 266,
275, 277.
Rossilho, Girartz de, 23, 24, 28, 29.
Rotrou, Jean de (1609-1660), dramatist, 293, 295, 300.
Roucher, J. F. (1745-1794), poet, 400.
Roman de Rou, 76.
Roman des Sept Sages, 52, 146.
Roman de Thèbes, 46.
Roman du Chevalier as Deux Espees, 97.
Roman du Renart, 42, 52, 77, 502.
Romans d'Aventures, 40, 91, 92, 93, 95, 97, 98, 237.
Romana Lingua, 2, 3.
Romance, Picaroon, 322.
Romance Tongue, 3.
Romances, Arthurian, 38.
Romances, Heroic, 320.
Romanzen und Pastourellen, 62, 66.
Rondeau and Rondel, 101, 163, 165.
Ronsard, Pierre de (1524-1585), poet, 197-202, 205, 206, 211, 260, 266,
275, 277.
Rossilho, Girartz de, 23, 24, 28, 29.
Rotrou, Jean de (1609-1660), dramatist, 293, 295, 300.
Roucher, J. F. (1745-1794), poet, 400.
Page 657
Rousseau, Jean Baptiste (1669-1741), poet, 396, 400, 413, 507.
Rousseau, Jean Jacques (1712-1778), novelist and philosophe, 425, 431,
433, 484-488.
Rulhière, C. C. de (1735-1791), historian, &c., 436, 440.
Rusticien of Pisa, 145.
Rutebœuf (b. 1230), trouvère, 69, 71, 72, 78, 111.
Sagon, François (16th cent.), poet, 177.
Saint-Aldegonde, Marnix de (16th cent.), polemical writer, 231.
Saint-Amant, M. A. de (1594-1661), poet, 279.
Saint-Bernard, sermons of, 141.
Saint-Evremond, Charles de Marguetel de St. Denis, Seigneur de (1610-
1703), moralist and critic, 334-343, 354, 375, 376, 504.
Saint-Gelais, O. de (1466-1502), poet, 165,180.
Mellin de (1491-1558), poet, 180.
Saint-Guillaume du Désert, Miracle Play of, 113, 114.
Saint-Lambert (1717-1803), poet, 399, 507.
Saint-Louis, 279.
Saint-Marc Girardin (1801-1873), critic, 565.
Saint-Pavin, S. de (1600-1670), poet, 280.
Rousseau, Jean Jacques (1712-1778), novelist and philosophe, 425, 431,
433, 484-488.
Rulhière, C. C. de (1735-1791), historian, &c., 436, 440.
Rusticien of Pisa, 145.
Rutebœuf (b. 1230), trouvère, 69, 71, 72, 78, 111.
Sagon, François (16th cent.), poet, 177.
Saint-Aldegonde, Marnix de (16th cent.), polemical writer, 231.
Saint-Amant, M. A. de (1594-1661), poet, 279.
Saint-Bernard, sermons of, 141.
Saint-Evremond, Charles de Marguetel de St. Denis, Seigneur de (1610-
1703), moralist and critic, 334-343, 354, 375, 376, 504.
Saint-Gelais, O. de (1466-1502), poet, 165,180.
Mellin de (1491-1558), poet, 180.
Saint-Guillaume du Désert, Miracle Play of, 113, 114.
Saint-Lambert (1717-1803), poet, 399, 507.
Saint-Louis, 279.
Saint-Marc Girardin (1801-1873), critic, 565.
Saint-Pavin, S. de (1600-1670), poet, 280.
Page 658
Saint-Pierre, C. F. Castel, Abbé de (1658-1743), political writer, 489.
Saint-Pierre, J. H. Bernardin de (1737-1814), novelist, 427, 514.
Saint-Réal, César Vichard, Abbé de (1631-1692), historian, 335.
Saint-Simon, Louis de Rouvroy, Duke de (1675-1755), memoir-writer, 345-
348.
Saint-Victor, P. de (1827-1882), critic, 563.
Sainte-Beuve, Charles Augustin (1804-1869), critic, 201, 435, 464, 520,
527-529, 541, 543.
Sainte-Palaye, La Curne de (1697-1781), philologist, 502.
Saisnes, 21.
Salel, Hugues (c. 1504-1553) poet and translator, 178, 210, 235.
Sales, François de (1567-1635), devotional writer, 379.
Saliat, Pierre (16th cent.), translator, 234.
Salut d'Amour, 66.
Sand, George (A. L. A. Dupin, Madame Dudevant, 1804-1876), novelist,
471, 534, 542.
Sandeau, J. (1811-1883), novelist and dramatist, 557, 558.
Sarcey, F. (b. 1828), critic, 563.
Sardou, V. (b. 1831), dramatist, 555.
Sarrasin, J. (1605-1654), poet and historian, 278, 334.
Saint-Pierre, J. H. Bernardin de (1737-1814), novelist, 427, 514.
Saint-Réal, César Vichard, Abbé de (1631-1692), historian, 335.
Saint-Simon, Louis de Rouvroy, Duke de (1675-1755), memoir-writer, 345-
348.
Saint-Victor, P. de (1827-1882), critic, 563.
Sainte-Beuve, Charles Augustin (1804-1869), critic, 201, 435, 464, 520,
527-529, 541, 543.
Sainte-Palaye, La Curne de (1697-1781), philologist, 502.
Saisnes, 21.
Salel, Hugues (c. 1504-1553) poet and translator, 178, 210, 235.
Sales, François de (1567-1635), devotional writer, 379.
Saliat, Pierre (16th cent.), translator, 234.
Salut d'Amour, 66.
Sand, George (A. L. A. Dupin, Madame Dudevant, 1804-1876), novelist,
471, 534, 542.
Sandeau, J. (1811-1883), novelist and dramatist, 557, 558.
Sarcey, F. (b. 1828), critic, 563.
Sardou, V. (b. 1831), dramatist, 555.
Sarrasin, J. (1605-1654), poet and historian, 278, 334.
Page 659
Satyre Ménippée, 259-264.
Saucourt, ballad of, 8.
Saurin, Bernard Joseph (1709-1781), poet and dramatist, 408, 412, 413.
Saurin, Jacques (1677-1703), preacher, 389.
Scarron, Paul (1610-1660), novelist and dramatist, 308, 322, 323, 325.
Scève, Maurice (d. 1564), poet, 178, 179, 180.
Schélandre, Jean de (1585-1635), poet and dramatist, 277, 292.
Scherer, E. (1815-1889), critic, 563.
Science et Asnerye, 121.
Scribe, E. (1791-1861), dramatist, 553, 554.
Scudéry, Georges de (1661-1667), poet and dramatist, 279, 293, 320.
Scudéry, Madeleine de (1607-1701), novelist, 320, 322, 326.
Sedaine, Michel Jean (1719-1797), dramatist, 413.
Segrais, J. R. de (1624-1701), poet, 278.
Sénancour, Étienne Pivert de (1770-1846), moralist, 471.
Senecan drama, 300, 307.
September massacres, memoirs of, 444.
Sept Sages de Rome, 52.
Séraphita, 532.
Saucourt, ballad of, 8.
Saurin, Bernard Joseph (1709-1781), poet and dramatist, 408, 412, 413.
Saurin, Jacques (1677-1703), preacher, 389.
Scarron, Paul (1610-1660), novelist and dramatist, 308, 322, 323, 325.
Scève, Maurice (d. 1564), poet, 178, 179, 180.
Schélandre, Jean de (1585-1635), poet and dramatist, 277, 292.
Scherer, E. (1815-1889), critic, 563.
Science et Asnerye, 121.
Scribe, E. (1791-1861), dramatist, 553, 554.
Scudéry, Georges de (1661-1667), poet and dramatist, 279, 293, 320.
Scudéry, Madeleine de (1607-1701), novelist, 320, 322, 326.
Sedaine, Michel Jean (1719-1797), dramatist, 413.
Segrais, J. R. de (1624-1701), poet, 278.
Sénancour, Étienne Pivert de (1770-1846), moralist, 471.
Senecan drama, 300, 307.
September massacres, memoirs of, 444.
Sept Sages de Rome, 52.
Séraphita, 532.
Page 660
Serées, 194.
Serena, 31.
Serres, Olivier de (1539-1619), scientific writer, 239.
Sertorius, 298.
Serventois and Sirvente, 66.
Servitude Volontaire, 249.
Sestina, 31.
Sévigné, Marie de Rabutin-Chantal, Marquise de (1626-1696), 348-351.
Sganarelle, 311.
Siècle de Louis Quatorze, 439.
Siége de Calais, 408.
Siege of Metz, 257.
Siege of Orleans, 122.
Siege of St. Quentin, 257.
Sirvente, 30, 31, and Serventois, 66.
Socrate Chrétien, 355, 372.
Soirées de St. Pétersbourg, 496.
Songe du Verger, 144.
Serena, 31.
Serres, Olivier de (1539-1619), scientific writer, 239.
Sertorius, 298.
Serventois and Sirvente, 66.
Servitude Volontaire, 249.
Sestina, 31.
Sévigné, Marie de Rabutin-Chantal, Marquise de (1626-1696), 348-351.
Sganarelle, 311.
Siècle de Louis Quatorze, 439.
Siége de Calais, 408.
Siege of Metz, 257.
Siege of Orleans, 122.
Siege of St. Quentin, 257.
Sirvente, 30, 31, and Serventois, 66.
Socrate Chrétien, 355, 372.
Soirées de St. Pétersbourg, 496.
Songe du Verger, 144.
Page 661
Sonnets, 203, 278.
Sophonisbe, 298.
Sorel, Charles (d. 1674), novelist, 324.
Soties, 121, 122, 216, 217.
Soulary, J. (b. 1815), poet, 550.
Soulié, F. (1800-1847), novelist, 556.
Soumet, Alexandre (1788-1845), dramatist, 519.
Sourches, Marquis de (17th cent.), memoir-writer, 348.
Souza, Madame de (1761-1836), novelist, 434.
Spartacus, 408.
Staal, Madame de (Mlle. de Launay, 1684-1750), memoir-writer, 441.
Staël, Madame de (A. L. G. Necker, 1766-1817), novelist, &c., 431-433,
487, 510.
Stapfer, P. (b. 1840), critic, 565.
Strasburg Oaths (sworn in 842 between Charles the Bald and Louis the
German against their brother Lothaire), 1, 4.
Sue, E. (1804-1854), novelist, 556.
Sully, Maurice de (1160-1196), sermon writer, 141.
Sully, Maximilien de Bethune, Duke de, memoir-writer, 256.
Suréna, 298.
Sophonisbe, 298.
Sorel, Charles (d. 1674), novelist, 324.
Soties, 121, 122, 216, 217.
Soulary, J. (b. 1815), poet, 550.
Soulié, F. (1800-1847), novelist, 556.
Soumet, Alexandre (1788-1845), dramatist, 519.
Sourches, Marquis de (17th cent.), memoir-writer, 348.
Souza, Madame de (1761-1836), novelist, 434.
Spartacus, 408.
Staal, Madame de (Mlle. de Launay, 1684-1750), memoir-writer, 441.
Staël, Madame de (A. L. G. Necker, 1766-1817), novelist, &c., 431-433,
487, 510.
Stapfer, P. (b. 1840), critic, 565.
Strasburg Oaths (sworn in 842 between Charles the Bald and Louis the
German against their brother Lothaire), 1, 4.
Sue, E. (1804-1854), novelist, 556.
Sully, Maurice de (1160-1196), sermon writer, 141.
Sully, Maximilien de Bethune, Duke de, memoir-writer, 256.
Suréna, 298.
Page 662
Système de la Nature, 494.
Tabarin (17th cent.), dramatist, 307 note.
Tuhureau, Jacques (1527-1555), poet, 208.
Taine, H. (b. 1828), critic and historian, 564, 578.
Tallemant des Réaux, Gédéon (1619-1692), anecdotist, 352.
Tartuffe, 310, 311, 312.
Tastu, Madame (b. 1798), poetess, 543.
Tavannes, Jean and Guillaume de, memoir-writers, 257.
Télémaque, 384, 385, 427.
Temple de Gnide, 475.
Tencin, Madame de (C. A. Guérin), (1681-1749), novelist, 419.
Tenson, 66.
Testament, 79.
Testaments, of Villon, 157-159.
Thaun, Philippe de (12th cent.), trouvère, 79.
Theagenes and Chariclea, 232.
Théâtre de la Foire, 406, 410, 412.
Théâtre de l'Agriculture et du Ménage des Champs, 239.
Tabarin (17th cent.), dramatist, 307 note.
Tuhureau, Jacques (1527-1555), poet, 208.
Taine, H. (b. 1828), critic and historian, 564, 578.
Tallemant des Réaux, Gédéon (1619-1692), anecdotist, 352.
Tartuffe, 310, 311, 312.
Tastu, Madame (b. 1798), poetess, 543.
Tavannes, Jean and Guillaume de, memoir-writers, 257.
Télémaque, 384, 385, 427.
Temple de Gnide, 475.
Tencin, Madame de (C. A. Guérin), (1681-1749), novelist, 419.
Tenson, 66.
Testament, 79.
Testaments, of Villon, 157-159.
Thaun, Philippe de (12th cent.), trouvère, 79.
Theagenes and Chariclea, 232.
Théâtre de la Foire, 406, 410, 412.
Théâtre de l'Agriculture et du Ménage des Champs, 239.
Page 663
Théâtre Français, 522.
Thébaïde, 301.
Théodore, 297.
Théophile, Miracle, 111.
'Théophile,' poet, see Viaud.
Thibaut de Champagne (1201-1253), poet, 32, 66, 68, 69, 82.
Thierry, Augustin (1795-1856), historian, 572.
Thierry, Amédée (1787-1873), historian, 572.
Thiers, A. (1797-1877), historian, 572, 573.
Thomas, A. L. (1732-1785), essayist, 460.
Thuana, (sc. Historia), 257.
Tillemont, S. le Nain de (1637-1698), ecclesiastical historian, 334.
Tite et Bérénice, 298.
Tocqueville, A. de (1805-1859), historian and political writer, 577.
Toison d'Or, 298.
Torneijamens, 31.
Tory, Geoffroy (16th cent.), grammarian, 239.
'Tragédie Bourgeoise,' 412.
Thébaïde, 301.
Théodore, 297.
Théophile, Miracle, 111.
'Théophile,' poet, see Viaud.
Thibaut de Champagne (1201-1253), poet, 32, 66, 68, 69, 82.
Thierry, Augustin (1795-1856), historian, 572.
Thierry, Amédée (1787-1873), historian, 572.
Thiers, A. (1797-1877), historian, 572, 573.
Thomas, A. L. (1732-1785), essayist, 460.
Thuana, (sc. Historia), 257.
Tillemont, S. le Nain de (1637-1698), ecclesiastical historian, 334.
Tite et Bérénice, 298.
Tocqueville, A. de (1805-1859), historian and political writer, 577.
Toison d'Or, 298.
Torneijamens, 31.
Tory, Geoffroy (16th cent.), grammarian, 239.
'Tragédie Bourgeoise,' 412.
Page 664
Tragiques, 213.
Traité des Sensations, 495.
Travailleurs de la Mer, 524.
Trésors, 145.
Tressan, L. E. de la Vergne, Comte de (1705-1782), romance-writer, 52,
502.
Trévoux, Dictionaire de, 325.
---- Journal de, 453.
Triolet, 118.
Tristan, Romance of, 36, 39, 92.
Tristan (17th cent.), dramatist, 293.
Troie, Roman de, 44.
Troilus, 147.
Troubadour Poetry, forms of, 30.
Trouvères and Jongleurs, 8, 23, 92, 502.
Turcaret, 410, 411.
Turgot, A. R. J. (1727-1781), economist, 436, 490.
Turoldus (11th cent.), trouvère, 13.
Turpin, chronicle of, 127 note.
Traité des Sensations, 495.
Travailleurs de la Mer, 524.
Trésors, 145.
Tressan, L. E. de la Vergne, Comte de (1705-1782), romance-writer, 52,
502.
Trévoux, Dictionaire de, 325.
---- Journal de, 453.
Triolet, 118.
Tristan, Romance of, 36, 39, 92.
Tristan (17th cent.), dramatist, 293.
Troie, Roman de, 44.
Troilus, 147.
Troubadour Poetry, forms of, 30.
Trouvères and Jongleurs, 8, 23, 92, 502.
Turcaret, 410, 411.
Turgot, A. R. J. (1727-1781), economist, 436, 490.
Turoldus (11th cent.), trouvère, 13.
Turpin, chronicle of, 127 note.
Page 665
Tyard, Pontus de (1521-1603), poet, 196, 198, 207.
Tyr et Sidon, 277, 292.
Un Spectacle dans un Fauteuil, 540.
Vachot, Pierre (16th cent.), poet, 172.
Vacquerie, A. (b. 1819), critic and poet, 550.
Vadé, Jean Joseph (1719-1757), poet, 404.
Vair, Guillaume du (1556-1621), lawyer and moralist, 248, 356.
Vair Palefroi, 51.
Valérie, 434.
Valmore, Marceline Desbordes (1787-1859), poetess, 543.
Variétés Historiques et Littéraires, 351.
Varillas, A. (1624-1696), historian, 333.
Vauban, Sébastien le Prestre de (1633-1731), engineer and political
economist, 489.
Vaudeville, 415.
Vaugelas, C. F. de (1585-1650), grammarian, 356, 392, 506.
Vauquelin de la Fresnaye (1536-1606), poet, 208, 210, 218, 265.
Vauvenargues, Luc de Clapiers, Marquis de (1715-1747), essayist and
moralist, 455-457.
Tyr et Sidon, 277, 292.
Un Spectacle dans un Fauteuil, 540.
Vachot, Pierre (16th cent.), poet, 172.
Vacquerie, A. (b. 1819), critic and poet, 550.
Vadé, Jean Joseph (1719-1757), poet, 404.
Vair, Guillaume du (1556-1621), lawyer and moralist, 248, 356.
Vair Palefroi, 51.
Valérie, 434.
Valmore, Marceline Desbordes (1787-1859), poetess, 543.
Variétés Historiques et Littéraires, 351.
Varillas, A. (1624-1696), historian, 333.
Vauban, Sébastien le Prestre de (1633-1731), engineer and political
economist, 489.
Vaudeville, 415.
Vaugelas, C. F. de (1585-1650), grammarian, 356, 392, 506.
Vauquelin de la Fresnaye (1536-1606), poet, 208, 210, 218, 265.
Vauvenargues, Luc de Clapiers, Marquis de (1715-1747), essayist and
moralist, 455-457.
Page 666
Venceslas, 294.
Vengeance de Raguidel, 95.
Vénus, de, la Déesse d'Amors, 87.
Véritable Saint Genest, 294.
Vers de Société, 277, 404.
Vers, Provençal, 30.
Verse Chronicles, 75.
Vertot, Abbé (1655-1735), historian, 333-334.
Ver-Vert, 369, 412.
Veuillot, L. (1813-1880), journalist, 570.
Viaud, Théophile de (1590-1626), poet and dramatist, 277, 293.
Vieilleville, Maréchal de (1509-1571), memoir-writer, 254.
Vigny, Alfred de (1799-1864), poet and novelist, 544.
Vilain, le, qui conquist Paradis par Plaist, 51.
Vilain Mire, 51.
Villanelle, 101.
Villanesques, 210.
Villars, Boyvin du (16th cent.), memoir-writer, 257.
Vengeance de Raguidel, 95.
Vénus, de, la Déesse d'Amors, 87.
Véritable Saint Genest, 294.
Vers de Société, 277, 404.
Vers, Provençal, 30.
Verse Chronicles, 75.
Vertot, Abbé (1655-1735), historian, 333-334.
Ver-Vert, 369, 412.
Veuillot, L. (1813-1880), journalist, 570.
Viaud, Théophile de (1590-1626), poet and dramatist, 277, 293.
Vieilleville, Maréchal de (1509-1571), memoir-writer, 254.
Vigny, Alfred de (1799-1864), poet and novelist, 544.
Vilain, le, qui conquist Paradis par Plaist, 51.
Vilain Mire, 51.
Villanelle, 101.
Villanesques, 210.
Villars, Boyvin du (16th cent.), memoir-writer, 257.
Page 667
Villars, L. H., Duke de (1653-1734), memoir-writer, 344.
Villedieu, Madame de (1631-1683), novelist, 17, 322.
Villehardouin, Geoffroi de (c. 1160-1213), 128-130.
examples from, 136.
Villemain, A. (1790-1870), critic, 564.
Villon, François (1431-1485), poet, 156-158.
Vinet, A. (1797-1847), critic, 565.
Viollet le-Duc, E. E. (1814-1879), architectural writer, 565.
Virgins, Ten, 7, 27, 111.
Voir Dit, 102.
Voiture, V. (1598-1648), poet and letter-writer, 277, 356.
Volney, C. F. de Chassebœuf, Comte de (1757-1820), philosophe and
traveller, 441, 492.
Voltaire, F. Arouet de (1694-1778),
life and poems, 398, 399.
plays, 407, 408.
tales, 423, 424.
histories, 439.
criticism, 461.
philosophy, 478, 479.
scientific work, 501.
Voyages à la Lune et au Soleil, 324.
Voyage autour de ma Chambre, 434.
Villedieu, Madame de (1631-1683), novelist, 17, 322.
Villehardouin, Geoffroi de (c. 1160-1213), 128-130.
examples from, 136.
Villemain, A. (1790-1870), critic, 564.
Villon, François (1431-1485), poet, 156-158.
Vinet, A. (1797-1847), critic, 565.
Viollet le-Duc, E. E. (1814-1879), architectural writer, 565.
Virgins, Ten, 7, 27, 111.
Voir Dit, 102.
Voiture, V. (1598-1648), poet and letter-writer, 277, 356.
Volney, C. F. de Chassebœuf, Comte de (1757-1820), philosophe and
traveller, 441, 492.
Voltaire, F. Arouet de (1694-1778),
life and poems, 398, 399.
plays, 407, 408.
tales, 423, 424.
histories, 439.
criticism, 461.
philosophy, 478, 479.
scientific work, 501.
Voyages à la Lune et au Soleil, 324.
Voyage autour de ma Chambre, 434.
Page 668
Voyage de Charlemagne à Constantinople, 48.
Voyage du Jeune Anacharsis, 427.
Wace (c. 1120-1174), trouvère, 76.
William of Lorris, see Lorris.
William Marshall, Earl of Pembroke, chronicle of, 76.
William IX., Count of Poictiers (1020-1090), troubadour, 28, 30.
William of Tudela (13th cent.), poet, 30.
William of Tyre (d. 1129), historian, 130.
Ysopet, 60.
Zadig, 423.
Zaïde, 326.
Zaïre, 407.
Zola, E. (b. 1840), novelist and critic, 561, 562.
THE END.
Voyage du Jeune Anacharsis, 427.
Wace (c. 1120-1174), trouvère, 76.
William of Lorris, see Lorris.
William Marshall, Earl of Pembroke, chronicle of, 76.
William IX., Count of Poictiers (1020-1090), troubadour, 28, 30.
William of Tudela (13th cent.), poet, 30.
William of Tyre (d. 1129), historian, 130.
Ysopet, 60.
Zadig, 423.
Zaïde, 326.
Zaïre, 407.
Zola, E. (b. 1840), novelist and critic, 561, 562.
THE END.
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