O ti- 'Or 9 %a3AINn3WV ^lllBRARYQc. -^lUBRARYQ so \oi\mi( I v^>clOSANCElfX;^ DO SO > %a3AINn3Wv ^^OFCAIIFO% > ^;OFCA[IF0/?^ ^- fie < ^WEUNIVERS•/A 1^^^ ^lOSANGElfj> -n (-> O li. -s^tllBRARYQ^. ^ ,^1 1 ? 3 § M^^M^ ^i^ ru EARLY FRENCH POETS. By the same Author, LIVES OF ENGLISH POETS, FROM JOHNSON TO KIRKE WHITE, DESIGNED AS A CONTINUATION OF JOHNSON'S LIVES. LONDON : HENRY G. BOHN. MDCCCXLVI. Shortly will be published, THE ODES OF PINDAR, IN ENGLISH VERSE, SECOND EDITION, WITH NOTES, EDITED BY THE REV. HENRY CARY, M.A. Preparing for the Press, THE LITERARY JOURNAL AND LETTERS OP THE REV. HENRY FRANCIS CARY. WITH A MEMOIR. BY HIS SON, THE REV. HENRY CARY, M.A. THE EARLY FRENCH POETS, A SERIES OF NOTICES AND TRANSLATIONS, BY THE LATE REV. HENRY FRANCIS GARY, M.A. TRANSLATOR OF DANTE. WITH AN INTRODUCTORY SKETCH OF THE HISTORY OF FRENCH FOETRY, BY HIS SON THE REV. HENRY GARY, M.A. WORCESTEK COLLEGE, OXFORD. LONDON: HENRY G. BOHN, YORK STREET, COVENT GARDEN. MDCCCXLVI. / CONTENTS. PAGE. Chronological Table of French Poets . . v Introductory Sketch of the History of'French Poetry ix Clement Maeot .... 1 Thibaut King of Navarre • 17 Antoine Heroet • 26 Mellin de Saint Gelais ? • 35 HuGUES Salel . 40 Olivier de Magny 46 Joachim Du Bellay 50 Remy Belleau . 66 Jan Antoine de Baif 78 Jan de la Peruse . 82 Pierre de Ronsard . 86 Estienne Jodelle . 128 Philippe Desportes . 136 Jean Bertaut . 147 Maurice Sceve . 161 GUILLAUME DBS AuTELS . 168 Robert Garnier • . 176 632737 IV CONTENTS. Alain Chartier Charles Duke of Orleans FRAN901S Villon Fresnaie Vauquelin Amadis Jamyn . Pierre Gringore 207 218 236 245 264 268 CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE OF FRENCH POETS.* Grain d'Or de Bouay Robert Wace Chrestien de Troyes Aubien de Sezane . Thibaut King of Navarre , diaries of Anjou . Henry Duke of Brabant . i . Pierre Mauclerc Earl of Britany Jean de Dreux Thibavlt de Blazon Jaques de Chison . Gace Brule Eustaclie tlie Painter Birth. Death. 12th century. 1201 . . 1253. cotemporary with Thibaut. * The poets are placed according to the date of their death, where that is known, otherwise according to their birth. Those printed in Italics are noticed only in the Introduction. VI CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE. Cruillaume de Lorris Jean de Meun . Cruillaume de Deguilleville Gaston de Foix Jean Froissart Olivier Basselin Christine de Pisan Alain Chartier Charles Duke of Orleans Francois Villon Pliilipije de Victroy Pierre Michault . Olivier de la Marche Guillaume Coquillart Gewge Chastelain . Jean de Vertoc Arnmil Grehert Octavien de Saint Gclais Jean Molinet Martial d'Auvergne Jean Marot Jean k Maire de Beiges Guillaume Cretin Clement Marot Pierre Gringore Marguerite de Valois Jean Boiichet . Birth. Death. — . . 1260 1279 . . 1322 1295 . . 1360 1331 . . 1391 1337 . . 1410 — . . 1418 1363 . . — 1386 . . 1458 1391 . . 1466 1431 . . — end of the 15tli century. . 1466 . . 1502 ' -^ .', . 1507 ■ — . 1508 . 1457 . 1517 . 1473 . . 1524 ( ^L'.-^ . . 1525 . 1484 . 1544 — . . 1545 . 1492 . . 1549 . 1476 . . 1555 CHRONOLOGICAL Jacques Takureau Jan de la Peruse . HuGUES Salel Mellin de Saint Gelais Joachim Du Bellay Olivier de Magny Maurice Sceve Antoine Heroet ESTIENNE JoDELLE Remy Belleau Amadis Jamyn guillaume des autels Pierre de Ronsard Jean Dorat Robert Garnier Guillaume Salluste du Bartas Jan Antoine de Baip Tlieodore de Bhe Pontus de Thyard Fresnaie Vauquelin Philippe Desportes Jean Bertaut Mathurin Itegnier Estienne Pasquier Franqois Malherhe table • Vll Birth. Death. . 1525 . . 1555 — . . 1555 1508 . , 1558 1491 . . 1559 1524 . . 1560 ^^~ • . 1560 — . . 1564 i\d.v. . 1568 1532 . . 1573 1528 . . 1577 1538 . . 1578 1529 . . 1580 1524 . . 1585 1508 . . 1588 1534 . . 1590 . 1544 . . 1590 . 1532 . 1592 . 1519 . 1605 . 1521 . 1605 . 1535 . . 1606 . 1546 . . 1606 . 1552 . . 1611 . 1573 . . 1613 . 1529 . . 1615 . 1555 . . 1628 INTRODUCTORY SKETCH OF THE HISTORY OF FRENCH POETRY. The papers of whicli this volume is composed, were originally published in various numbers of the London Magazine, between the years 1821 and 1825, at which time that periodical could reckon among its contributors names of no less note than those of Charles Lamb, Hazlitt, De Quincy, Allan Cmming- ham, Thomas Hood, Thomas Carlyle, and the au- thor's higlily valued friend George Darley. The contributions of many of these have long since been pubUshed in a separate form, and their works occupy no mean place in our standard literature. Their success, added to a conviction of the merit of the work itself, has mduced me to collect together the foUowuig papers, and to offer them to the pubhc under their author's name. In doing this, one difficulty presented itself : the notices of the several French poets should properly stand in their chronological order, so that the reader might be enabled to see the progress made in the b X INTKODUCTORY SKETCH. art at the several periods in which the different schools of poetry flourished. But this was imprac- ticable, without frequent alterations of the text, for that the later written papers contain references to former ones, though these may happen to carry us further forward in the liistory. The papers them- selves, though doubtless written with a \-iew of being afterwards published in a separate form, were com- posed and printed as at the time best suited the author's mood or convenience. That on Thibaut, King of Navarre, which appears second in this vo- lume for the reason stated in the note at the begin- ning of that article, was sent out first as a specimen ; its success warranted the subsequent series. To obviate the defect in the chronological arrange- ment, I have prefixed a table, in which all are placed according to their dates, a guide that will probably content most readers, vdthout their having recourse to the more tedious process of following me through a hasty review of the History of French Poetry, from its first beginnings to the time of Malherbe, wherein I propose not only to connect historically the several authors, of whom we have an account in this work, but also to fill up the interstices or gaps in the history, by notices of such others as either in their day produced an influence on their comitry's literature, OT still retain a prominent place in its annals. By way of introduction a few words must be said INTRODUCTORY SKETCH. XI of the origin of tlie French language, and of the earUest French poets, the Trouveres. The French language was originally formed from a mixture of the ancient Gallic with the Latin, on which was afterwards engrafted the Tudesque or language of the Franks, consequent on their occu- pation of the country. Each province had its sepa- rate dialect, but the most marked and comprehensive distinction is that which is made between the langue d'oc and the langue d'oil,* the former used in the parts south, the latter in the parts north of the river Loire : the principal difference consists in the termi- nations of words, the former or langue d'oc being in that respect very similar to the Latin, the latter or the langxie d'oil approaching nearer to the Tudesque. The former again was the language of the Provencal troubadours, the latter of their imitators and succes- sors the trouveres, who may be considered as the first parents of the French language and poetry in all the various changes they have successively undergone from that time to the present. With them, there- fore, our account properly begins. Towards the latter part of the twelfth century the trouveres, successors of the ProvenQal troubadours,t * Oc and oil are the affirmative particles of the re- spective dialects, both meaning- "yes." t The troubadours cannot properly be considered as the fathers of French poetry, except so far as they XU INTRODUCTOKY SKETCH. first be^m to write poems in the French, or, more correctly speaking, the Romance language. The sub- jects of these early rhymers were drawn from three chief sources,* namely, traditions derived from the ancients, whence the romances of Alexander, of Philip of Macedon, ^Eneas, and the like ; secondly, from the traditions of the Britons, whence the romances of wliich Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table are the heroes ; lastly, from their own national tra- ditions, whence those poems of which the deeds of Charlemagne and the Twelve Peers of France form the subject. Many, who may properly be called Chroniclers, contented themselves with putting into rhyme the history of their times and country. Thus Grain d'Or de Douay wrote an accoimt of the first crusade, were imitated by the trouveres. The laug'uag'es are so distinct, that it is quite possible to understand the one and not the other. Thus the first half of the first vo- lume of Les Poetes Franqois depuis le Xlle siecle par M. Anfiuis, Paris, 1824, consists of selections from the troubadours, the latter half of selections from the trou- veres; the latter may be easily understood by a mode- rate French scholar, the former I confess myself unable to make out for many consecutive lines, even with the help of a dictionary and the glossary that accompanies tlie work itself. * See the Dissertation prefixed to Li Romatis de Bcrte nus [p-ans pies, jmr M. Paidin Paris, published at Paris, 1832. INTKODUCTORY SKETCH. XUl and Robert Wace, an Anglo-Norman, the Wars of the Conquest of England by "William of Normandy. Numbers of fables were intermingled with these ac- counts, and the writers of chronicles drew from the same sources as the writers of romances. In the thirteenth century this class of writers in- creased to such an extent, that no fewer than two hundred rhymers are reckoned of that sera. But it is in vain to look for any thing approaching to poetical taste m these romances. All appears formed in the same mould ; everywhere the same per- sonages, the same incidents are met with. If therefore we would form a favourable opinion of the poetical productions of this period, we must have recourse to their fabliaux, tales in verse, the subjects of which were chiefly drawn from the manners of the times ; their Senentes, originally songs,* composed in ho- nour of the deity, or in praise of some great man. * This appears to have been the orig'inal design of the Serventes, whence the name as expressing service or worsliip. Roquefort so describes it in his dictionary v. "Servantois," and adds " Borel is mistaken in saying they were satires." Yet this same Roquefort, without noticing the inconsistency, says in a subsequent work (De la Poesie Franeoise dans les Xlle et Xllle siecles, p. 221, 222) that they were generally satirical, but often contained a mixture of satire and praise. Goujet says Serventes were satires against all sorts of people. Bibliotheque Franeoise, x. 42, 4.3. xiv INTKODUCTORY SKETCH. which usually ended in a petition for some boon ; their tensons, short poems in dialogue, chiefly amo- rous, the most free and unconstrained of all their styles of poetry, and in which the most boundless satire was indulged. Among the writers who flourished before the race of trouveres was extinct, but who was not of them, the most worthy of notice is Thibaut, King of Na- varre. I have but little to add to the notice given of him in this work.* But we can form a better opinion of the rank to which he is entitled among the poets of his comitry, if we contrast the condition of the art as he found it, with his improvements. His chief merit is in the introduction or adoption of a new system of metres and disposure of the rhymes. I need not stop to inquire into the various theories as to the origin of rhj-mes, whether, as one thinks, they were known in Gaul seven hundred years before the siege of Troy,t or, as another, were imported from the north by the Goths, :]; or from the south by the Arabs, § It is almost beyond doubt that the French poets, properly so called, derived their whole know- ledge of the art from the Proven9al troubadours, who in their turn, probably, from the difficulty of adapt- * Page 21. t Jan le Maire de Beiges, Massieu Histoire de la Poesic Franqoisc, p. 73. I Idem, J). 11. § Idem, p. 78. INTRODUCTORY SKETCH. XV ing the riUes of quantity to their language, had hor- rowed the use of rhymes from the later Latin writers, in whom frequent traces of it are to be foimd.* The troubadours had employed a great variety of metre, had introduced lines of different lengths, and intermingled their rhymes, so as to obviate that mo- notony wliich arises from the constant recurrence of similar terminations in lines of an equal and measured length. The earlier trouveres for the most part oidy employed verses of eight syllables, and those d, rime plate, as they are called, that is, the two lines of every couplet rhyming with each other. The author, who goes under the name of the Recluse of Moliens,f seems to have been the first to imitate the troubadours in intermingling the rhymes, and Chrestien de Troyes and Aubien de Sezane X to make use of varied metres. Thibaut adopted all these improvements, and estab- lished a more free and tmieful system of versification, which was thenceforth cultivated by his successors. He was the first to alternate the masculine and femi- nine rhymes, which at a later period became a settled rule and one of the chief charms of French poetry. It is remarkable that Dante§ should fix on the first of Thibaut's poems, the sixth chanson, in wliich this * See Roquefort de la Poesie Franqoise, p. 32. \ Idem, p.m. X Idcm,p.Ql. % Massieu, p. 141. X\1 INTRODUCTORY SKETCH. rule is partially iutroducedj as a model of poetical excellence. Nor did Thibaut content himself with setting the example of cultivating a taste for poetry, he used his influence and employed his patronage in encouraging it. His court was constantly frequented by the fol- lowers of the Muses, whatever their station in hfe might be, and he established a sort of academy under his own roof, at which meetings were held on stated days in every week, and the productions of different authors read aloud. Among the aspirants to literary fame of that day may be reckoned Charles of Anjou, brother to king Louis, and himself afterwards king of Naples and Sicily ; Henry duke of Brabant ; Pierre Mauclerc earl of Britany ; his son Jean de Dreux, who married Thibaut' s daughter Blanche; Thibault de Blazon, a gentleman in the king of Na- varre's service, and in whose poems may be found several sayings that have passed into proverbs ; Jaques de Chison ; Gace Brule ; Eustache the painter, one of the most celebrated of his time, but of whose writings little now remains ; and a host of others too numerous to mention in detail. All these were AVTiters of chansons, and in most of them is to be discerned the improved method of versification which Thibaut of Navarre has the credit of having introduced. Meanwhile the race of romance-writers was by no means extinct, and shortly after the time of which I INTRODUCTORY SKETCH. XVU have been speaking there appeared a poem of this class that bore away the palm from all its predecessors. This was the Romance of the Rose, the joint work of Guillaume de Lorris and Jean de Meim, of which the former wrote upwards of four thousand verses, the latter eighteen thousand. Guillaume de Lorris, whom INIarot calls the Ennius of France, " Notre Ennius Guillaume de Lorris," is supposed to have died about the year 1260 ; Jean de Memi was born about the year 12/9, and is supposed to have died about the year 1322, so that upwards of forty years must have elapsed between the commence- ment of the poem by Guillaume de Lorris and its continuation by Jean de ^leun. As this is the earUest poem which now retains any share of popularity, I might almost say of notice, among the French, it may not be out of place to give a brief sketch of its plan. Most of the old romances describe the adventures of a lover in quest of the object of his love, varied with every species of incident that in times of chivalry might be supposed to impede his progress. In the Romance of the Rose the object of search is not a lady but a rose ; this rose, however, is meant to repre- sent a lady, and the other allegorical personages, who aid or thwart the lover in his quest, represent the various incidents vdth. which a lover would meet. The whole, it should be obsei*ved, is represented to occur in a dream. X^all INTRODUCTORY SKETCH. The poet or lover fancies himself introduced by by dame Oyseuse, " Idleness," to the palace of De- duyt, " Pleasure." He there meets with Love at- tended by his train, his squire Doux-Regard, " Sweet- Looks," Richesse, " Riches," Jolyvete, " Jollity," Courtoisie, " Courtesy," Franchise, " Liberality," Jeunesse, " Youth," and the hke ; these form them- selves into pairs and give themselves up to the delights of dancing and walking. The poet, as he is walking in their company, comes to a bed of roses fenced by a hedge, he singles out a bud and attempts to pluck it, when an arrow from the bow of Love stretches him fainting on the ground. On his recovery he confesses himself vanquished, and swears allegiance to the God of Love, with whom he leaves his heart in pledge. The poet, as soon as he finds himself alone, is anxious to return to his rose-bud. Bcl-Accueil, " Good Reception," accompanies him. But Dangler, " Danger," armed with a wand of thornbush, Honte, " Shamefacedness," Peur, " Fear," and Malebouche, " Calumny," prevent liis reaching the prize. Reason advises him to give up the pursuit ; but he resists her influexice, and by the aid of Pitie, " Pity," and Fran- chise, " Liberality," succeeds in appeasing Danger, and Venus allows him to put his Hps to the bud. But Malebouche had denounced him to Jalousie, " Jealousy ;" she has a strong castle built, in a tower of which she shuts up Bel-Accueil, and gives the INTRODUCTORY SKETCH. XIX keys to an old woman : Honte, Peur, jMalebouclie, and Dangler, guard the four principal doors. The poet, deprived of the aid of Bel-Accueil, can only grieve over the price he has had to pay for the first favours of love. At this point Guillaume de Lorris's poition of the poem ends. Brief as the above sketch is, to follow Jean de Mean's continuation of the poem at the same length would occupy far too much space ; it must suffice therefore to keep to the mere skeleton of the story. We left the lover lamenting at the foot of the tower in which Bel-Accueil is confined : when he is in despair of success the God of Love comes to his aid, and summons bis barons to assist ; these are dames Oyseuse, Noblesse de Cceur, " Nobleness of Heart," Simplesse, " Simplicity," Pitie, Largesse, " Boimtv^," Hardiesse, "Courage," Honneur, Coiu'toisie, Deduyt, Surete, Jevmesse, Patience, HumUite, Bien-Celer, " Secrecy," these bring with them two new person- ages, Faux-Semblant, " False-Semblance or Guile," and Contrainte-Abstinence, "Constrained Absti- nence." Love is imwiUmg to admit these two stran- gers into his train ; but is persuaded to do so on the intercession of the others, and Faux-Semblant is ap- pointed leader of the troop. The attack on the castle commences. The chief, Faux-Semblant, and his companion, Contrainte-Absti- nence, equipped in their proper costume ; the latter. XX INTRODUCTORY SKETCH. wrapped in a hair-garment, her head covered with a nun's hood, carries her psalter and pater-nosters ; Faux-Semblant, in the habit of a mendicant friar, wears a bible round his neck, and supports himself by a gibbet for a staff. Thus accoutred, they approach Malebouche, one of the guardians of the castle. He, affected by a pious discourse from Faux-Semblant, kneels down to confess ; but while he is stooping his head, his confessor, Faux-Semblant, seizes him by the throat, strangles him, and cuts out his tongue with a razor that he had concealed under his sleeve. The soldiers who supported Malebouche meet with no better fate, Faux-Semblant makes his way into the castle, the lover again gets sight of Bel-Accueil, and with his aid is just about to pluck the rose, when a cry uttered by Dangler, brings Honte and Peur to the rescue. Bel-Accueil and the lover are once more defeated. After another fruitless attempt by the army of the God of Love, the aid of Venus is called in ; she is soon followed by another ally in the shape of Genius, the chaplain of dame Nature ; he, dressed in a mag- nificent cope, wearing on his finger the pastoral ring, and on his head a mitre, ascends a pulpit, and ha- ranguing the defeated army, inspires it with new courage. The siege is renewed, Venus throws a burning brand into the castle, Bel-Accueil is released, and the lover is enabled to pluck the rose-bud without terms. In the original plan of this poem, as drawn by INTRODUCTOBY SKETCH. XXI Guillaume de Lorris, we can discover little more than a simple allegory, such as a trouv^re of liis time might employ in describing the incidents that would befal a lover in the chaste pursuit of his love, though expressed in a far more flomng and purer language than had till then been used. Jean de Meun has made his coutmuation the vehicle not only of a less chaste morality, but of a display of learning consider- able for those times, and of the most misparing satire on the clergy and on the female sex, of which we have above sUght specimens in the conclusion of the story, and in the characters of Faux-Semblant and Contrainte-Abstinence . The only originahty to which Guillaume de Lorris can lay claim is that of telling his story under the form of an allegory; Jean de Meun is in that respect only his follower ; but he is entitled to a far higher meed of praise, in that he not only possessed, but made use of, for the advantage of the literature of his time, a store of learning then common to but few, and by those few never before employed to adorn the national hterature, wliich till then had made little improvement on the primitive songs, ballads, and ver- sified stories, which are ever the first poetical efforts of a rude and illiterate people. Diffuse and miconnected as it was, this application of learning, borrowed from the ancients to the popular literature of the age, was doubtless a great step in XXn INTRODUCTORY SKETCH. advance, but save in that it earned for its author immediate popularity and a lasting renown, it pro- duced no visible effect on the writings of his suc- cessors, who contented themselves with imitating him so far only as to adopt his allegorical instead of the usual real personages of romance, and to reiterate his sarcasms against the clergy and the female sex. For two centuries and upwards the Romance of the Rose was the lUad of France. To pass over the Romance of Pilgrimages by Guil- laume de Deguille^ille,* a work comprising three Dreams, the first of Human Life, the second of the Soul separated from the Body, the third of Jesus Christ ; the metrical work on the Chase by Gaston de Foix ;f the rondeaux and ballads of the historian Jean Froissart;J the joyous drinking songs of Olivier Basselin,§ supposed to be the inventor of Vaux-de- Vires ; and others of still less note : — passing over these we must pause a moment to pay a tribute of respect to Christine de Pisan. She was born at Venice about the year 13G3, and at the age of five years was removed to Paris by her father, who in the character of an astronomer was * Born 1295, died about 1360. t Born 1331, died 1391. X Born 1337, died after the beginning' of the foUow- ingr century. 5) Died about 1418. INTRODUCTORY SKETCH. XXUl taken into the service of Charles the Fifth. At the age of fifteen she married the king's secretary, Etienne du Castel, but shortly afterwards had the misfortune to lose her father, and to this grief was added that of being left a widow with three children at the early age of twenty-five. To the consolation which the education of her children would afford, she added that of a taste for polite literature, which a collection of books, left her by her father and her husband, enabled her to indulge : the fruit of her studies soon shewed itself in the production of a number of little pieces called dictiez, consisting of ballads, lais, lessus or complaints, virelays, and rondeaux; these soon attracted notice, and gained her no inconsiderable reputation. The Earl of Salisbury, favourite of Richard the Second, took her eldest son to be edu- cated with his own ; Henry the Fourth invited Christine herself to the English court ; and the great and good of her own countrj^ paid no less homage to her virtues and her talents. Her writings are numerous, as well in prose as in verse : among the latter, besides many ballads, may be mentioned Le Debat des deux Amants, Le Chemin de longue Etude, and Les Diets Moraux, or " Moral Sayings," addressed to her son : throughout, these poems breathe a spirit of refinement, purity and plain- tive sweetness, which will be sought in vain among the writings of any of her cotemporaries. XXIV INTEODIJCTORY SKETCH. The most interesting of all is perhaps that last mentioned, Moral Sayings, addressed to her son. In it she gives him ad\ice how to act in the different relations of Ufe, and in a variety of circumstances of honour or abasement in which he may be placed ; in a word, she gives him such ad\dce, and in such sweet and gentle manner, as a mother alone knows how to give it. A few stanzas, while they serve to shew her poetical powers, will also evidence the quahties of her heart and understanding : her instructions as to his conduct towards her ovra sex, may be taken as a fair specimen of the whole. She begins — " Fils, je n'ai mie grand tresor Pour t'enrichir. Mais au lieu d'or, Aucuns enseignemens montrer, Te veuil, si les veuilles noter. ***** * * * * * • Ne soyes decepueur de femmes, Honours les, ne les diiFames, Souffise toi d'en amer une, Et ne prends cointance a chacune. N'ayes en dedain nul chastoy. Ne desprises moindre que toy. Car il est de tels mal vestus, Ou plus qu'en toy a de vertus. INTRODUCTORY SKETCH. XXV Se tu prends femme acorte et sag'e, Croy la du fait de ton mesnage ; Adjoutes foi a sa parole, Mais ne te oonfesse a la folle. Souuent ne menasse de battre, Des teste roinpre ou bras abbattre, Car c'est sig-ne de couardie, Personne ou folle ou pou bardie. Se tu veulx fouir le dangler, D'amour et du tout I'estrangier, Esloigne toi de la personne A qui ton cueur le plus s'adonne. Se bien veulx et chastement viure, De la Rose ne lis le liure, Ne Ovide de I'Art d'amer, Dont I'exemple sert a blasmer." I have quoted this last stanza because Christine de Pisan is often referred to as one of the many assail- ants of Jean le Menu. It was no jealousy, as was the case with many who did the hke ; it was no want of appreciation of the poetical powers of the princi- pal author of the Romance of the Rose, for she else- where calls him vm moult grand clerc subtil, " a very great and subtle scholar ;" it was no wish to protect her own sex from deserved satire, which induced her to enter the lists against the greatest genius of her day; but it was the consciousness that in that poem her sex had been done wrong, and that a work in which no c XXVI INTRODUCTORY SKETCH. distinction was made between virtue and vice, was calculated to extend the evil, which it professed only to expose. Want of space, as well as of ability to add any- thing worthy of notice to the account given in the body of this work of Alain Chartier, Charles Duke of Orleans, and Frangois Villon, compels me merely to assign them their proper place in the chronology of French poetry, and to pass on to others their co- temporaries or immediate followers. The first that claims our attention is Martial d'Auvergne. The date of this author's birth is not known ; he died in 1508. His epitaph informs us that he prac- tised as a lawyer for fifty years. His first work was Les Arrets d' Amours, a collection of decisions pro- nounced by the Courts of Love. Of these the intro- duction and conclusion only are in verse, the remainder in prose. The work which gained him most reputa- tion was Les Vigiles de la Mort du Roy Charles VII. They are called Vigiles from the circumstance of their being composed in the form of the office of the church bearing that name. The Psalms consist of historical accounts of the misfortunes and glorious events of Ihe king's life, and the Lessons are lamentations on his death and the record of his virtues. The following strophes veiy simply and naturally express the sorrow of the rustics for the loss of a good king. One may well believe CoUetet, when he INTRODUCTORY SKETCH. XXvii tells US that the labourers used to sing them at their work. The shepherds are the speakers — Depuis quarante ans L'en ne vist les champs Tellement fleurir, Regner si bon temps Entre toutes gens, Qu'on a veu avoir Sans moins de perir Jusques au mourir Du roy trespasse, Qui pour rejouir Et nous secourir A maint mal passe. Se pour peine prendre, Beufs et brebis vendre, Ravoir je povoye Le feu roy de cendre, Et sur pied le rendre. Tout le mien vendroye, Et ne cesseroye, Jusques luj auroye *»♦ , La vie retournee, Pour la doulce voye, Le bien et la joye Qu'il nous a donnee. Another poem is attributed to the same author, entitled L'Amant rendu Cordelier. This, to my XXVm INTEODUCTOEY SKETCH. taste, is one of the most delightful little romances of the time. The following is an outline of the story : The author finds himself, ever in a dream, in the forest of Despair, and conducted hy Love to the gate of ci vast abbey, which is no other than a convent of Cordeliers or Franciscan Friars. The author enters, and after mass, meets a poor disconsolate lover, ba- nished from his mistress's presence, who is come to seek the Prior's ad\ice. A long dialogue ensvxes between the Prior and the Lover, in which the latter expresses his despair of succeeding in overcoming the obduracy of the object of his affection, and expresses his desire to take the vows of celibacy, and enter into the holy order of Franciscans ; the Prior endeaA'ours to dissuade him from his purpose, and urges him not to despair, shewing throughout an intimate acquain- tance with the female heart, Avhich stands in droll contrast with the naivete and simplicity of the Lover. His arguments in favour of the prosecution of the suit pro\ing ineffectual, the Prior next endeavours to deter the Lover from taking the vows, by represent- ing to him in strong colours the rigours of the clois- tered life. But all in vain ; so the poor Lover is admitted to his no\iciate. At the end of his year of probation he proceeds to make his profession ; the author, with a multitude of the Lover's relatives and friends, is present ; among the rest he observes a lady INTRODUCTORY SKETCH. XXIX dressed in deep mourning, who from her heha\iour he doubts not is the sad but now repentant cause of the youth's unhappiness. The Prior, after a judicious discourse on the world's vanity, offers the youthful Lover the choic? between his former habit and that of a professed Friar : dur- ing the discourse the eve of the Lover had wandered, and fallen on his sorrowing mistress ; but even this does not change his purpose, he resolves on taking the vows, the lady faints, the noviciate rushes to her aid, and "works a miracle" by bringing her to herself again : still he remains firm to his purpose, the rules of the order are read, the usual contribu- tions are made, the ceremony is just concluded, when the author awakes from his dream. In addition to the interest of the story itself, as giving a hvely picture of the manners of the times, the truthfulness -with which the diiferent characters are drawn ; above all, that of the Prior, abounding in wisdom and true piety, and free from the bigotry of that period, form a pleasing contrast with other works of the kind, in which all the professors ot rehgion, especially the monks, were the common mark at which the most popular poets were used to level their sarcasms. I have only to add in excuse for this long notice of Martial d'Auvergne, that, httle as he is now XXX IXTRODUCTOEY SKETCH. esteemed, lie was once designated as " le poete le plus spirituel de son temps." The names of Philip de Victroy, hishop of Meaux, Pierre Michault, Olivier de la Marche, Guillaume Coqiiillart, and George Chastelain, all poets who flourished towards the close of the fifteenth century, are scarcely deserving of notice. The last of the number wrote a poem with prose intermingled, which from the strangeness of the subject may arrest our attention for a moment. Chastelain, from reading Homer's Iliad, had con- tracted such an affection for the character of Hector, that he could not bear the thought of his havmg been slain by Achilles, and his corpse afterwards treated with indignitj\ He therefore introduces the two heroes, pleading their cause in the presence of Alex- ander the Great, who having heard both parties, suc- ceeds in persuading Achilles that his rage had car- ried him too far, and that he owes an apology to Hector for his conduct ; this is given, and the con- tending parties are reconciled. The following is the title of the poem : " Les Epitaphes d' Hector fils de Priam, Roy de Troye et d' Achilles fils de Peleus, Roy de Myrmidoine : et est contenu ou proces de cestuy traictie les complaintes d'iceux Chevaliers, present Alexandre le Grant." The whole is a curious specimen of the Esprit Francois, of which their INTRODUCTOKY SKETCH. XXXI modem authors say so much, but of which I confess myself imable to form a definite notion.* During the latter part of this, the fifteenth century, France was inundated by the productions of a new race of rhymers, who scarcely deserve the name of poets, and whom Rabelais has fitly compared to chimers of bells, carilloneurs de cloches. Their whole talent, such as it was, was employed in invent- ing new forms of verse and rhyme, so as very much to add to the difficulties of verse-making, without m * M. St. Marc Girardin, in his Tableau de la Litte- rature Fran9aise, au xvie siecle, 1829 ; and M. Nisard, in his Histoire de la Litterature Fran9aise, now in course of publication, and of which two volumes have ap- peared, make the Esprit Franqois the text of their works, which pervades the history of the nation from the time of the ancient Gauls, and meets you at every turn. M. Nisard defines it to be I'esprit joratique par excellence, which may be freely translated " the per- fection of practical wisdom." Overlooking this piece of national vanity, which is itself an illustration of the Esprit Franqois, in another point of view, and over- looking' another grave error that results from it, and which is that the French language has attained perfec- tion, and is incapable of further advance, it must be owned that M. Nisard's work is a great accession to the literature of his country. The first-named work shared a prize given by the Academy in 1828, with an Essay on the same subject by M. Ph. Chasles. While the latter is full of interest, the former gives one little more than endless exempUfications of the Esprit Francois. XXXU INTEODUCTOEY SKETCH. the least increasing its charm. The inventors and chief promoters of these novelties were Jean de Vertoc, Arnoul Grebert, Jean Molinet, and his friend Guillaume Cretin, whom Marot calls, " Le bon Cretin au vers equivoque," and elsewhere " Souverain Poete Francois," and whom Rabelais has immortalized in his Panta- gruel, under the character of the ridiculous poet Rominagrobis. These all delighted themselves with writing verses in every conceivable variety of metre, and with rhjnues, single, double, echoing, equivocal, and the like. The following are a few of the different kinds : The rhyme batelee,* in which the last syllable of a verse rhymed with the pause in the next verse. The rhyme fraterni&ee, in which the last word in a line was repeated in sound, though not in significa- tion, at the beginning of the following line. The rhj^me retrograde, in w'hich the poem or stanza might be read backwards, and the sense, metre and rhyme, still retained.-)- * So called, I suppose, from the Greek word /3arTo. Xoyia, " babbling." f Jean ^Mescliinot, who died in 1509, %vrote at the head of a huitain, an epigram in eig'ht lines (for the designation of epigram was subsequently introduced IXTRODTJCTOKY SKETCH. XXXUl The rhyme enchaisnee, n which every succeeding line contained a word that had been used in the pre- ceding, so that as well the sound as the sense was carried on from Une to line. The rhyme hrisee, in Avhich every line might be broken in two at its pause, and the half hues, whe- ther the first half or the last, bemg read consecu- tively, would form a poem both in rhjTne and meaning. The rhyme equivoque, in which the whole word at the end of one line was repeated in a different sense, and generally in more words than one, at the end of the other hue of the couplet. The rhyme senee,* in which all the words in each verse began with the same letter. The rhjTne couronnee, in which the two last sylla- bles in each hne rhymed with each other, and with the corresponduig syllables of the other verse of the couplet. Lastlv, the rhyme emperiere, " the imperial," the most diificult, and therefore that which only the greatest geniuses could cultivate, and which bore the by Lazare de Baif), Les huit vers ci-dessous ecrits se peuvent lire et retourner en trente-huit manieres ; " the eight following' verses may be read and transposed in thirty-eight different manners." — Samte-Beuve de la Poesie Franqaise, p. 18. * So called, I suppose, from the old French word sene, " a sjiiod" of the clergy of a diocese. XXXIV INTUODUCTORY SKETCH. same relation to the couronnee, as an imperial is said to bear to a kingly crown, was that in which the same sound was repeated thrice at the end of each verse. The curious reader may find specimens of all these sorts of rhymes in the Abbe Massieu's short history of French poetry, from whence the foregoing account has been taken. To any who may wish to pursue the study further, to revive this branch of the art, or to import it into our own country, I cannot do better than recommend a very learned work, written by Henri de Croy, and published by Authoine Ve- rard m 1493. It has, I beheve, been repubhshed in Paris not many years since. Here is its old title ; " C'ensuit I'art et science de rhetorique pour cong- noistre tons les termes, formes, et patrons, exemples, eouleurs et figures de dictiers, tallies modernes, qui maintenant sont en usage. C'est assavoir, comme lignes doublettes, vers sisains, vers septains, vers huitains, vers alexandrins, rigme batelee, rigme brisee, rigme enchainee, rigme a double queue, rigme en forme de complainte amoureuse, rondeaulx simplex de une, de deux, de trois, de quatre et de cinq sylla- bles, rondeaulx jumeaux et rondeaulx doubles, simples virlais, doubles virlais et responce, fatras simples fet fatras doubles, ballades communes, ballade ballavante, ballade fratrisee, simple lay, lay renforce, champt INTRODUCTORY SKETCH. XXXV royal, servantois, ricquerac et bagucnaude. De la- quelle rhetorique ensuirent les exemples." M. Roquefort* has taken some pains to relieve Clement Marot, (for he was to some extent caught by the infection) and his cotemporaries, from the ri- dicule which such an invention would desenedly bring on its authors ; and he would lay all at the door of the old troubadours. But the only instances he gives, or even alleges, are of the intermingling of long and short verses, and the double or echoing rhymes, which correspond most nearly with those called fraternisees. He would find it a hard task to discover among the troubadours examples of one fourth part of the fantastical rhymes and metres in vogue just before the time of Marot, and of which the above-mentioned work of Henri de Croy professes to treat. Before quitting this century two poets, who flou- rished at its close, claim a passing notice ; these are Jean, father of Clement Marot, and Octa\aen, re- puted father of Mellin de Saint-Gelais. Jean Marot was born of an obscure family at Mathieu, a village near Caen in Normandy, in the year 1463. His education seems not to have ex- tended much beyond the limits of his own language ; * De I'Etat de la Poesie Francoise dans les XIP et XIIP sieclesj p. 71,&c. XXXVl INTRODUCTORY SKETCH. and in that the Romance of the Rose formed his chief study and delight. He early displayed a natural talent for poetry, and had the good fortime to attract the notice of Anne, Duchess of Britany, who at- tached him to her suite, and on her marriage with Louis the Twelfth pro\'ided him with a place in the king's service. Marot attended Louis in his expe- ditions to Genoa and Venice, and wrote a detailed metrical accoimt of hoth ; the ordinary dry detail of royal progresses is much reheyed hy the picturesque liveliness of his descriptions. In his journey to Genoa, instead of the usual allegorical personages, after the manner of Lorris and Le Menu, he intro- duces Mars, Bellona, Neptmie, Eolus, and others from ancient mythology. In adcHtion to the above he wrote a number of rondeaux, epistles, and songs, of which the most celebrated is Le Doctrinal des Princesses et nobles Dame, this is a ride of conduct for Princesses, in which each feminine Airtue and excellence, to the number of twenty-four, is set forth in a separate rondeau. It would be no bad hand- book for our modern ladies of fashion. The follow- ing is a fair specimen of the whole : Qui a ces deux, cliastete et beaute, Vanter se peut qu'en toute loyaute, Toute autre dame elle surmonte et passe, Vu que beaute oncque jour ne fut lasse De faire guerre a dame chastete. INTRODUCTORY SKETCH. XXXTll Mais quand ensemble elles font unite, C'est don divin joint a I'liumanite, Qui rend la dame accomplie de grace, Qui a ces deux. Mieux vaut laideur gardant honnestete. Que beaute foUe en chassant nettete : Toi done, qui as gent corps et belle face, Prens chastete, tu seras Toutre-passe : Car Meun nous dit que peu eu a ete Qui a ces deux. Not only is Octavien Saint-Gelais desemng of notice as the reputed father of Mellin, and as the most learned of the early French poets, but I feel myself more especially bound to give a fuller account of him than his merits as a poet would have entitled him to, from a conviction that iaijustice has been inadver- tently done to his memory in the following pages ; a wTons; which no one more than the wTiter himself would have been anxious to repair. Wlien one reads that he was bishop of Angouleme, and that "his profession did not restrain him from freedom both in his life and writings,"* the obvious impression is that he retained in old age the vices of his vouth, or at all events that when he put on the mitre, he did not put off his freedom of hving. • Page 38. . XXXVUl INTEODUCTOUY SKETCH. He was born at Cognac, about the year 1466, and was the son of the Marquis de Monthieu and Saint- Aulaye. He received his education at the college of Sainte-Barbe, under the celebrated Martin Lemaitre, and having completed his studies at the Sorbonne, was admitted into holy orders. But his time seems still to have been devoted to ancient hterature and poetry; and all that he has left of the latter serves to prove that his leisure was given up to dissipation. The fruits of his learned studies were a translation of Homer's Odyssey, of Virgil's iEneid, and Ovid's Epistles. The latter, which he says himself was the first labour of his pen, is remarkable as maintaining almost throughout the regular alternation of masculine and feminine rhymes, an elegance till then unknown, which he did not himself maintain in his subsequent poems, and which remained unnoticed till Jean Bouchet, as we shall presently see, remarked and recommended it for general observance. A ballad, in honour of Charles the Eighth, aided probably by his high connections, obtained him the favour of that prince ; and at the veiy early age of twenty-eight, that is in 1494, he was promoted to the bishopric of Angouleme, Before this period, as we learn from some passages in his poems, the infir- mities of a premature old age, the result of an irregu- lar life, had come on him. His reputed son Mellin was born in 1491. From the time of his exaltation IXTRODUCTOUY SKETCH. XXXIX to the episcopate all the accounts we have of him report him to have heen attentive to the duties of his station, and to have applied himself to the study of the Holy Scriptures and the writings of the Fathers. He died at the early age of thirty-six. We are now approaching that period of the history of French literature, to which French authors have given the very questionable name of La Renaissance, "The RcA-ival."* The remote causes of the new direction at this period given to the literature of the time are to he traced to the successive \ictories gained over the Italians by Charles the Eighth, Louis the Twelfth, and Francis the First ; these not only possessed the victors of a large portion of the treasures of ancient learning, till then almost confined to Italy, but by the intercourse that necessarily took place between the two people, made them acquainted with the vast pro- gress made by the Italians, by the aid of these trea- sures, in improving and bringing to perfection their own language and literature. The more immediate causes are to be found in the recently discovered art of printing, and the reformation in religion, which was then shaking all Europe to its centre, and which * La Renaissance a done paru a nos peres una sorte de resurrection de I'esprit Francais.— iV^tsar^Z I. 201. Xl INTRODUCTORY SKETCH. compelled those who had hitherto been almost the sole depositaries of their coimtry's learning, to have recourse to the same stores whence their enemies were drawing their weapons of oifence. One of their preachers had said, " A new language that they call Greek has lately been discovered. You must scrupu- lously avoid it. This language is the parent of all heresies."* But the influence of the pulpit, as hitherto employed in the maintenance of ignorance and darkness, was fast yielding to the newly-born spirit of philosophical inquiry and the love of truth. Among the favourers of the new, or rather the old learning, Marguerite de Valois, sister of Francis the First, and wife of Henri d'Albret king of Na- varre, herself a poetess, must not be forgotten. To the qualities that make the ornament of her sex she added a very extensive knowledge of literature, a sincere love for learning, and a regard for learned men that was never affected by any differences of religious opinion. Her court was ever open to them, it was her constant endeavour to protect and encourage them, and the occasions were not few in which she was called on to use her influence to protect them from the persecutions to which freedom of inquiry too often exposed them. Among others we find Clement Marot taking refuge at her court. * Nisard I. 209. Grceciim est, non Icgitur, was a familiar saying. INTRODUCTORY SKETCH. xli Iler talents and her beauty, for she had this latter grace withal, acquired for her the exaggerated appel- lation of " the tenth Muse " and " the fourth Grace." The poets also, with a more allowable sentiment, from the French signification of her name, which is " daisy," called the daisy the queen of flowers, and from its Latin signification, that of " pearl," called her "the pearl of pearls." Her poems then and since have home the title of Marguerites de la Mar- guerite des Princesses tres illustre royne de Navarre ; " The Pearls of the Pearl of Prmcesses, the most illustrious queen of Navarre." Her poems are for the most part on religious sub- jects, and among them we meet the strange titles of " La comedie de la Nati\-ite de Jesus- Christ," " La comedie de 1' adoration des trois roys a Jesus-Christ," "La comedie des Innocents." But all are not of this class. The most pleasing is that entitled " La Coche," evidently modelled on the " Li\Te des quatre dames " of Alain Chartier, of which a brief notice is given in the body of this work.* In Mar- guerite's poem she represents herself as in the act of conversing with a labourer in the fields about his household, his wife, his childi-en, and his toil, when of a sudden she sees three ladies approachuig her from a wood ; all appear downcast and weeping ; as Page 214. (I xlii INTRODUCTORY SKETCH. they draw nearer she recognizes in them three of the friends whom she loves best, so with the view of con- sohng them she entreats them to confide their misfor- tunes to her. The four recHne together in a meadow ; of the three friends two had been abandoned by their respective lovers ; the third, for friendship's sake, had deserted her own, who was faithful, that she might share the others' affliction. Each strives to shew that her own case is the hardest : while they are talking night overtakes them, so all four enter the queen's carriage (whence the poem has its name) to finish their stories. Marguerite ends by ad\'ising them to appeal to the king her brother. Under the auspices of this princess, whom in early youth he served in the capacity of page, arose Clement Marot, who may be regarded as almost the last repre- sentative of the old school of poetry. His writings, as will be observed from the account and from the specimens given of them in the body of this work, differ only from those of his predecessors in the greater degree of ease and elegance with which they are composed. In other respects he adheres to all the then acknowledged forms, as well in the choice of his subjects, as in his mode of handUng them. The materials that he has, however, he uses as a perfect master. In his versification he seems to endeavour to make the asperities of the French language bend to his own perception of metrical harmony, and INTRODUCTOUY SKETCH. xliii dreams of no rales of metre which shall of themselves produce that harmony. The only improvement of this kind that he introduced is a greater distinctness in the pause in the middle of each line, by exploding the use of the e mute in that position : this improve- ment he acknowledges to have learnt from his friend and tutor Jean le Maire de Beiges, a poet of the same period, but more distinguished as a prose writer and historian. Cotemporary with Marot flourished Jean Bou- chet,* one of the most prohfic but indifferent writers of the time, who is no otherwise deserving of men- tion than as being the first to attract the notice of his brother poets to the charm arising from the alternation of mascuhne and feminine rhymes. In a poetical epistle pubhshed in 1537, he says, Je trouve beau mettre deux feminins En rime platte avec deux masculins, Semblablement quand on les entrelasse En vers croises. xVnd in one of his epistlesf in prose he remarks that Octavien de Saint-Gelais had generally followed this rule in his translation of 0\id's Epistles. * Born at Poitiers in 1476, died in 1555. f I am not able to refer to this Epistle in Boucliet's works, having only seen a long extract from it given by Goujet, xi. 249. xliv INTRODUCTORY SKETCH. But in another poetical epistle addressed to his friend Louis Roussart, and prefixed to "Les Tri- omphes de la nohle et amoureuse Dame," pubhshed by Guillaume de Bossozel in 1536,* he appears to me, if I understand him right, to have the candour to acknowledge himself indebted to his friend Rous- sart for the discoveiy.f He did not, however, adhere to the rule which he wished to have introduced. We are now come to the most eventful and interest- ing period of the history of French poetry, commencing with the reign of Henry the Second. Francis the First died in 154/ ; in the following year Thomas Sebilet published his Art Poetique in two books, in the first of which he treats of the art of poetry in general, and in the second of the various kinds of poetiy in use among the French : in this latter he passes in review those whom he deemed most worthy of notice, and among the old classical poets of France signalizes * The first edition of this work was printed at Poitiers 1530, without the Epistle to Roussart. t It is a very remarkable circumstance that the Louis Roussart here spoken of is no other than the father of Pierre Ronsard, who shortly afterwards estab- lished this as a law, which his father had remarked as an elegance of versification. The little interest the French take in such matters has probably prevented modern writers from noticing- the fact. I have only seen it mentioned in Goujet, Bibliotkhque Franqoise, xi. 288, and xii. 192. INTRODUCTORY SKETCH. xlv Alain Chartier and Jean le Menu ; among the mo- derns, Marot, Mellin de Saint-Gelais, Salel, Heroet, and Maurice Sceve, of whom the last four were still liA-ing. From about this period we may date the rise of the new school, that of Ronsard and the Pleiad. Sebilet, in 1548, little dreaming of the revolution that was just at hand, sums up as it were all that the old and then modem schools had done. In the following year, 1549, appears Joachim du Bellay's Illustration de la Langue Fran^oise, declaring war on all that was past, and all that then was, threatening and demand- ing a total change in the whole system. The causes of this movement are to be traced on the one hand in the progress made in the study of ancient literature, and on the other in the little learning possessed by the popular poets of the day. I have already cursorily noticed what is called La Renaissance, " The Re\ival," and the causes that led to and promoted it. Hitherto, however, the study of ancient literature had produced but little influence on the vernacular poetry : the poets were, for the most part, brought up in the houses of the great, or in the retirement of monasteries ; no sooner was a taste for poetry and a capacity for rhyming manifested, than the possessor of these quahties became an attendant on the court, or the protege of some great personage, and while sound learning was elsewhere making rapid advances, the use of the French, instead of the Latin xlvi INTRODUCTORY SKETCH. language, was, by an ordinance of Francis the First, substituted in all legal proceedings and other public acts. The ultimate effect of this change would doubtless be a more careful study of, and consequent improvement in the language of the country, but its more immediate effect was to dispense with the ac- quirement of the little Latin that had been hitherto requisite for the common purposes of life in all above the lower orders. And though among the poets of the day there were some who had a considerable knowledge of Greek, as Jean le Maire de Beiges and Mellin de Saint-Gelais, and others who, though in- ferior scholars, had given some proofs of a more poUte learning, as Hugues Salel in his metrical version of the first eleven books of the Iliad, and Antoine Heroet in his metrical translation of the Androgynon of Plato, yet none of them had applied their learning to the improvement of their native tongue, or the in- troduction of a higher order of poetry. Le Meun and his allegories were still their great exemplars ; Marot, less learned than Le Meun, could only be so far called the founder of a new school, in that he adapted himself to the popular taste of the times. Meanwhile there was in France a host of men who were spending their lives in digging deep into those treasures of ancient learning, which their intercourse with Italy during the past century had brought within their reach, and by the aid of which the IXTRODUCTORY SKETCH. xl\-ii Italians had already perfected their language, and raised their own literature almost to a rivalry with that of Athens and Rome. So great was the fond- ness of these scholars for classical learning, that in its pursuit they forgot the claims of their native tongue, and if there were any poets among them, their vis poetica expressed itself in Greek or Latin : they looked down wth contempt on the frivolous trifles that were the delight as well of the court as of the people. Under this state of things, any attempt to infuse a more refined spirit into the national literature, if it proceeded from the court-poets, would probably be slow, and almost imperceptible ; on the other hand, if from the class of the learned, it would probably be violent and overstrained. And so it proved. According to the forcible image of Du Verdier, " One saw a troop of poets rush from the school of Jean Dorat,* as if from the Trojan horse." Joachim du Bellay roused and cheered them on to the combat. He sets out in his Illustration de la langue Fran- ^oise, apparently with the design of quarrelling with the learned men of his day, whom he charges with arrogance in despismg and rejecting everything wiitten * Jean Dorat was the classical instructor of Jan Antoine de Baif, Ronsard; Remy Belleau, and Du Bellay, all, with Dorat himself, members of the Pleiad. xhiii INTRODUCTORY SKETCH. in French. True it is, he allows, the French language is poorer than the Greek and Latin ; but this is owing to the ignorance of their predecessors ; they must, therefore, imitate the ancients, and as the Romans had done with the Greeks, must convert their literature into their own blood and nutriment. He condemns translations. He would do away with the old rondeaux, ballads, virelays, songs, and other such trifles. Instead of them he would have pleasant epigrams in imitation of Martial ; mournful elegies after the pattern of Ovid, Tibullus and Propertius ; he would have beautiful sonnets after the learned invention of the Italians ; odes for songs ; satires for fables ; tragedies and comedies for farces and mora- lities. "There, Frenchmen," he adds, "march boldly towards that proud Roman city, and, as you have done more than once, adorn your temples and your altars with her servile spoils. Fear not again those clamorous geese, that haughty Manlius, and that traitor Camillus, who, under pretence of good faith, surprised you unarmed as you were coimting the ransom of the Capitol. Assault that lying Greece, and plant there once again the famous nation of the Gallo- Greeks. Pillage without scruple the sacred treasures of that Delphic temple, as you have done aforetime ; and fear no more that dumb Apollo, his false oracles or his blunted arrows. Call to mind IXTRODrCTORY SKETCH. xlix your ancient IMarseilles, a second Athens, and your Gallic Hercules, dragging the people after him by their ears, with a chain attached to his tongue." The war of learning against ignorance forthwith commenced. " The brigade," as it was called in accordance Avith the high-flown language of Du Bellay, was immediately formed, consisting of Ronsard, Du Bel- lay, Pontus de Thyard, Jan Antoine de Baif, Estienne Jodelle, Remv Belleau, and Jean Dorat. These seven afterwards assumed the more lofty title of the Pleiad ; the other, to use an expression which Ronsard him- self would approve, being too mundane for so brilhant a constellation. Almost all the poets of the day, old and young, hastened to enlist mider their banners. Sebilet, the expomider of the old school of poetrj', Jacques Tahu- reau, Guillaume des Autels, Maurice Sceve, Ohvier de Magny, Jan de la Peruse, and even Theodore Beza, vAxh. a host of others of more or less note, declare themselves on their side. The refined and elegant Mellin de Saint-Gelais, the poet of the court and the people, makes a feeble effort at resistance ; the court in the plenitude of its ignorance pronounces in favour of the new school, and Saint-Gelais is forced to submit. However, he will not Latinize his mother tongue, so has notliing left for it but to 1 INTRODUCTORY SKETCH. amuse the evening of his days in writing unadultera- ted Latin verse. There was one, however, more learned and mightier than them all, who would not submit. This was Rabelais, the lineal, but gigantic and Pantagruelian ancestor of our own Swdft, Sterne, and Fielding. Dry controversy was not his delight; so he assails them with his own peculiar inimitable wit and pim- gent satire. As it would take me too much out of my way to dwell on Rabelais vnth the care he merits, I must content myself with referring the reader to his sketch of the character of the Limosin scholar,* " le grand excoriateur de la langue Latiale," who comes " de I'alme, inclyte et celebre Academie que Ton vocite Lutece ;" and who " transfrete la Sequane au dilucule et crepuscule ; et deambule par les com- pites et quadri\-ies de I'urbe." And now I may very properly say, "revenons a nos moutons," for in Rabelais "les moutons de Panurge" are no other than the servile imitators of the ancients. Du Bellay, we have seen, recommended the use of a more classical language, an imitation of the ancient forms of poetry and the more modem Italian sonnet. In carrying out this plan he kept clear from those * See the Pantagruel, 1. ii. c. 6. and L'Epistre du Limousin de Pantagruel. INTRODUCTORY SKETCH. li excesses which were so justly blamed in Ronsard. Nor were his efforts without fruit. The French lan- guage acquired a vast number of new words and expressions, which have added much to its strength and beauty, and which even the purists did not reject. Du Bellay's writings consist principally of sonnets, a few odes, and some poems in the Alexandrme mea- sure. Ronsard has the credit of ha\-ing introduced the ode. Du Bellay brought the Alexandrine to a high degree of perfection, and gave popularity to the sonnet. I must say a few words on each of these. His Alexandrine verses, especially in his " Hymn to Deafness," and " Le Pofete Courtisan," have a pecu- liar majesty and ease. He varied the position and emphasis of the caesura, so as to give the utmost force to the sentiment he had to express, and did not hesitate to run one hue into another, to which the French have given the name of enjambement. Mal- herbe, and after him Boileau, condemned both these hcences, and insisted on an invariable pause in the middle of each verse, and at its end, so that the sense must terminate with the line. In this instance, however, the decision of these great authorities has not met with the imiversal sanction of posterity. Moliere constantly availed himself of the same free- dom vAi\x Du Bellay, and though more latitude may be allowable in a comedy, Racuie has also followed his lii INTRODUCTORY SKETCH. example, and if I mistake not, the best modern poets agree in reversing Malherbe's decision. The original of the sonnet has been a subject of much controversy ; most of the old French writers attribute the invention to the Italians, and amongst them to Petrarch. Of this opinion is Jacques Pel- letier, in his Art Poetique ;* and Du Bellay, in his Illustration de la langue Frangoise,f expressly says that it is entirely of Italian invention, and in one of his odes he says. Par moy les Graces divines Ont fait sonner assez bien Sur les rives Angevines Le Sonnet Italien. Another opinion is, that the Italians borrowed the sonnet from the Provencal poets : but whatever may be the date of its introduction into Italy, and whether it be, as some maintain, of French, or of Provencal original, certain it is that it is much earlier than the time of Petrarch, for Thibaut King of Navarre, who flourished vipwards of a century before Petrarch, speaks of the sonnet as already in use — Et maint Sonnet et mainte recordie ; and Guillaume de Lorris, in the Romance of the Rose, mentions, Lais d'amours et Sonnets courtois. * Lib. ii. c. 4. f Lib. i.e. 4. INTRODUCTORY SKETCH. lui However the sonnet was for a long time disused by the French poets, and did not come into vogue until Du Bellay published his fifty somiets in praise of his mistress, though he tells us m the second edition of that work, 1550, that he had adopted it by persuasion of Jacques Pelletier, as a species of poem till then but little used, having been but lately im- ported from the Italian by Melhn de Saiut-Gelais. So that to this latter is due the honour of haAing revived the sonnet : but as Du Bellay not only wrote more frequently in that style than Saint- Gelais, but also brought the sonnet to a high degree of perfec- tion, he wordd not unnaturally have the credit of having attracted the notice of his countrymen to it. Du Bellay, though he died yomig, hved long enough to modify some of his censures. In his Poete Courtisan he had unsparingly satirized the court poets, especially Antoine Heroet and Saint- Gelais ; yet he afterwards called these two " les fa- voris des Graces et I'honneur du Parnasse Frangois." Again, as we have seen, he condemned translations from Greek and Latin authors, yet himself after- wards translated parts of the ^neid, and in pub- lisliing his version candidly avowed, that he was not so enamoured of his own former opinions, as to re- fuse to change them on farther reflection, and after the example of men of letters. Ronsard, from his first appearance in the literary liv INTRODUCTOEY SKETCH. world, eclipsed his colleague Du Bellay, and shone pre-eminent in the constellation of which he was the chief luminary. The supremacy that he exercised over the poetical literature of France continued for nearly half a century. His success in carrying oflF the prize for poetry at the Jeux Floraux of Toulouse, at the same time brought him into notice, and es- tablished his reputation. The magistrates on tliis occasion presented him with a Minerva made of soUd silver, instead of a flower, which was the proper prize, and awarded him the title of " The French Poet." MelUn de Saint-Gelais endeavoured to pre- vent his favotirable reception at court, but Ronsard's genius prevailed ; Henry the Second declared in his favour, and from that moment his word was law. Up to this period the utmost use that the learned had made of the recently discovered treasures of ancient learning, was to translate them ; otherwise they had not been employed to enrich the French language or literature. Ronsard, with Du Bellay, determined to imitate them. As to enrich his own language he coined new words, as he says himself — Je fis de nouveaux mots, J'en condamnay les vieux, so likewise he modelled his poetry after ancient patterns ; he would have his odes (which species of poem he was the first to introduce) resemble those INTRODUCTORY SKETCH. Iv of Pindar and Horace, his songs Anacreon, his elegies Tibullus, his Franciade the ^neid, his sonnets were to be after the pattern of Petrarch. By way of criticism on the different species of poetry he attempted, I neither need nor can add any thing to the account hereafter given of him. It may suffice to observe, that beauties are there pointed out in the poems of Ronsard, which very few of his coimtrymen of the present day will allow him: on the other hand where he most signally failed, that is in his imitations of Pindar, they do not seem to ob- serve how miserably short he falls of his great master in poetical conception, imagery, and grandeur of dic- tion, but content themselves with condemning the strange words he has imported into their language, in another word, his Grecizing. It must be allowed, however, that Ronsard did much towards the improvement of versification. He introduced a great variety of lyrical metres, and in- vented several new forms of strophe. Many of liis metres were condemned by Malherbe, who probably thought them too complicated ; but as in the case of Du Bellay's Alexandrines, the modern school is gra- dually returning to Ronsard's opinion. Again, the regular intermingling or alternating of masculine and feminine rhymes which we observed as first used by Thibaut King of Navarre, and afterwards recom- mended by Jean Bouchet, was insisted on as indis- Ivi INTRODUCTORY SKETCH. pensable by Ronsard. Du Bellay in his Illustration de la langue Fran^oise, had designated this rule as superstitious, but afterwards conformed to Ronsard' s xiews. Of the other members of the Pleiad only two at- tempted to follow a new and independent path of their own ; these were Estienne Jodelle and Jan Antoine de Baif ; the former with considerable success essayed to imitate the tragedy of the ancients, the latter failed as much in attempting to imitate their heroic and lyrical measures : but of these two, and of Remy Belleau, another luminary, enough is said in the body of this work. I shall therefore content myself with adding a brief notice of the remaining two, Dorat and Thyard. Jean Dorat was one of the most learned men of his time : but in connection with his national poetry, almost the only honour he is entitled to, is that of having been the preceptor of Ronsard, Jan Antoine de Baif, Remy Belleau, and Du Bellay. His cotemporaries called him the French Pindar : not only, however, has he left nothing to warrant such an appellation, but the poems he has left are totally devoid of poetical merit, except such as were highly esteemed in his own day, that of being Latinized to an extent beyond any of the others. Dorat was born at Limoges about the year 1508. He went to Paris in 1537, and the scantiness of his INTRODUCTOKY SKETCH. Ivii means compelled him to undertake the task of edu- cating Jan Antoine de Baif. In 1544 he gave up this employment for the profession of arms, and served for three years imder the Dauphin, afterwards Henry the Third. In 1547 he was made principal of the College of Coqueret, and there had Baif again under his charge, with Ronsard, Belleau, and Du Bellay. In 1553 he was called to court to take charge of the education of the Duke d'Angouleme, natural son of Henry the Second, and in 1556 was made professor of Greek in the Royal College at Paris. He died in 1588. Pontus de Thyard, the last survivor of the Pleiad, was born in the year 1521, and died in 1G05. His first publication "Erreurs Amoureuses," bears the date of 1549, the same year in which Du Bellay's Illustration de la langue Franqoise appeared ; it is therefore but reasonable to conclude that the differ- ence between his style and that of his predecessors was not owing to Du Bellay's work, nor was in any way the first fruits of the league then formed against the old school of poetry, but was rather the sponta- neous product of his own mind. Indeed, in a letter addressed to a young lady, to whom he dedicated his CEuvres Poetiques in 15/3, he says, that "finding no French poet before him had written in a manner answering to the height of his own impassioned con- ceptions, he had taken pains to embellish and exalt Hii INTRODUCTORY SKETCH. the style of his verses, more than any of his prede- cessors had done." And with all his endeavours to form a classical style he remarks, that since the period of his first pubhcation, " the progress and advancement in the poetical language of France had been great and commendable." So that Pontus de Thyard may be regarded as the first who set the example of that change in the language of poetry, wliich Du Bellay at the same time inculcated by precept. His Errours Amoureuses, amongst other poems, contain upwards of a hundred sonnets, which I the rather mention, because Ronsard has attributed to him the disputed honour of having first introduced that species of poem into the French language. It is certain that Melhn de Saint-Gelais had preceded him in that way. Pontus de Thyard lived long enough to witness the downfal of the classical building, which so many men of genius, his fellows, had conspired to erect. But this probably did not affect him much, at all events, he made no effort to parry the assaults of Malherbe, ha\-ing long forsaken the Muses, and devoted himself to the study of philosophy, mathe- matics, and theology. In 1578 he was made bishop of Chalon sur Saone, and lived to the advanced age of eighty-three. It would be an endless task to enumerate the INTRODUCTORY SKETCH. Kx throng of poets and rhjiners that sprung up in imita- tion of the new school. Estienne Pasquier, one of the weakest of the swarm of sonnet-^vriters, but who has a better fame as author of Les Recherches, writing to Ronsard in 1555 exclaims: "In good sooth, such an abundance of poets was never yet seen in France ; I fear the people will at last be weary of them. But it is a fault peculiar to us, that as soon as we see any one succeed in any thing, every one must follow his steps." Among the throng, however, we may signalize the following, of whom an accomit will be fovmd in the body of this work, Jan de la Peruse ; Olivier de Magny ; Amadis Jamyn, whom by a strange mis- take, the accurate and learned Sainte-Beauve ranks among the Pleiad, thereby displacing Jan Antoine de BaTf; Guillaume des Autels ; Robert Gamier; Phi- lippe Desportes ; Fresnaie Vauquelin ; and Jean Ber- taut ; to these may be added Jacques Tahureau, author of some very sprightly odes ; Guillaume Sal- luste du Bartas, whose poem of La Semaine ou Crea- tion du Monde passed through nearly tliirty editions during the author's life-time, and of which or of whom Ronsard said equivocally, that " he had done more in a week than himself had throughout his whole life ;" and at a later period, Mathurin Regnier, who in vain attempted by his "wdtty satire, to uphold Ix INTRODUCTOKY SKETCH. Ronsard and his scliool against the assaults of INIal- herbe. Enfin Mallierbe vint! is the emphatic expression of Boileau. Frangois de Malherbe was born at Caen in Nor- mandy, in the year 1555; his father was a magis- trate in that town, and it was intended that the son should succeed to the same office ; but the father having embraced the Reformed religion, Frangois took his parent's apostacy so much to heart, that at the age of nineteen he left his home, and went to Pro- vence, where he entered the ser\ice of the Duke d'Angouleme. At whatever period he may have established a lite- rary reputation in the parts where he resided, it is certain that he had not attracted general notice until he was nearly fifty years of age. At the beginning of the seventeenth century, the king, Henry the Fourth, happening to ask Cardinal Du Perron if he had given over writing verses, the cardinal answered, " that no one could attempt to do so, since a gentle- man named Malherbe, residing in Provence, had car- ried French poetry to that degree of perfection, that no one could ever approach him." About three years after this, in 1 605, Malherbe had occasion to go to Paris, whereupon the king, who remembered the cardinal's remark, induced him to remain at court. INTRODUCTOKY SKETCH. Ixi and provided him with a sufficient maintenance in the house of the Duke de Bellegarde, At this period Ronsard's renown was as great as it had ever been ; two of his avowed followers, Des- portes and Bertaut, were still li^-ing ; Regnier, by many years JNIalherbe's junior, was just rising into fame, when the latter declared open war on the whole system of the Pleiad. As it is not my purpose to carry on the history of French poetrj' beyond the period during which it would serve to illustrate the following pages, I shall not enter at any length into a consideration of the changes effected by Malherbe, or the opposition they met with at the outset. It will suffice to state briefly in what those changes consisted, especially in so far as they affect the school of Ronsard. His reforms have reference to the French language generally, and to the structure of verses. With regard to the first of these, he would abohsh all newly-imported Greek and Latin words and phrases, as well as all provincial expressions, making use only of such as a well-educated Parisian would employ without effort or pretence of learning. This, though not in terms, I take to be the grand rule he would lay down for the perfecting of the French language. But its extent destroys its force. He did well to explode the pedantic Grecisms and Latinisms, both in words and phrases, with which Ixii INTRODUCTORY SKETCH. Ronsard and his followers had encumbered their poems, but he could not have failed to observe that the language had been enriched by a vast number of words from these very sources, which naturally ac- corded with its spirit, and which he was himself in the constant habit of using. In the construction of verses, the follovdng were his principal rules. First, he forbad the meeting of vowels m a line, at the end of one word and beginning of another. This rule again is too extensive, and should have been limited to what are called cacophonies. The best poets since the time of Malherbe have not rigidly observed it. Secondly, as I have before observed, he forbad en- jambements, the running of one line into another, and completing the sense in the second. Thirdly, he would have the caesura always fully marked, and went so far as not to allow the governing verb to end the first half of a hue, and the verb go- verned to begin the last half. Fourthly, he would not allow a simple word to rhyme with its compoimd, or proper names with each other, or even words that have a kindred signi- fication. Many other rules, and even less interesting to an English reader, are to be found in the expounders of Malherbe' s theorv, for he left no formal code of his INTEODUCTOBY SKETCH. Ixiii own. The above, however, are all that Boileau par- ticularizes in the following extravagant encomium of this " t}Tant of words and syllables," as he was aptly called. Enfin Malherbe vint, et le premier en France, Fit sentir dans les vers une juste cadence, D'un mot mis a sa place enseigna le pouvoir, Et reduisit la Muse aux regies du devoir. Par ce sage ecrivain la langue reparee N' offrit plus rien de rude a roreille epuree Les stances avec grace apprirent a tomber, Et les vers sur les vers n'osa plus enj amber. Tout reconnut ses lois, et ce guide fidele Aux auteurs de ce temps sert encore de modele Marcbez done sur ses pas ; aimez sa purete, Et de son tour beureux imitez la clarte. The effect of this rigid system was very much to mcrease the difficulty of writing verses ; a difficulty which none felt more than Malherbe himself. For whether it was owing to his care to observe his own rules, or to a natural slowness of conception, certain it is, the time he is reported to have spent in com- posing and finishing to his mind a poem of even but a few lines, far exceeds the ordinary period of gesta- tion. In proof of this, a pleasant story is told of his having been commissioned to write a poem on the death of the wife of the First President of Verdun ; Ixiv INTRODUCTORY SKETCH. it took him three years to complete his task, and when he deUvered his work to the President, a second wife was already consoling the poor widower for his loss. Malherbe with great gravity asks, if he would like to have his wife back again. The poem consists only of nine stanzas, of six lines each. Malherbe died in the year 1628. THE EAELY FEENCH POETS. CLEMENT j\L\ROT. In the course of this last summer, I happened to reside for some weeks in a place where I had free access to a large collection of books,* which for- merly belonged to the kings of France ; but, like other royal property, having been confiscated at the Revolution, still continues unreclaimed, and is now open to the use of the public. Of this occasion I gladly availed myself, to extend my acquaintance with some of their earher writers, whose works are not commonly to be met Avith in our own country ; and amongst these, fixed my attention principally on such of their poets as were of most note at the re- storation, or more properly speaking, the general diffusion of polite learning in Europe. What the result of this inquiry has been, I imdte my readers to judge. The French of the present day, I know, set but little store on these revivers of the poetical art. * At Versailles, where the Author spent the summer of 1821.— Ed. I EARLY FRENCH POETS. Their extreme solicitude for what they call the piirity of their language, makes them easily offended by phrases, the irregularities of which we should be ready to pardon, in consideration of higher excellence, or even to welcome, as so many means of aiding us in that escape from the tameness of common every-day life, which it is one great end of poetry to effect. I do not know of any other people who have set up an exclusive standard of this sort. What would the Greeks of the age of Pericles have said to a literary censor, that should have endeavoured to persuade them to throw aside the works of Homer and Hesiod, because he could have pointed out to them in every page, modes of expression that would not have passed muster in a coterie at Aspasia's ? Wliat reply should we make to a critic, that would fain put us out of conceit with some of the finest things in Spenser and Shakspeare, be- cause they were cast in a mould utterly differing from that impressed on the language of our pohter circles, though similar enough to the stamp of our country- folks' talk ? Let any one take up Voltaire's commen- tary on the tragedies of Corneille, and he will see to what a pitch this fastidiousness has been carried in the instance of a writer comparatively modern. I am not much afraid lest the generality of my readers should be subject to any such disgust. Our igno- rance is a happy security from this danger ; though I trust it will not prevent us from being alive to the CLEMENT MAROT. 3 many beauties that will meet us in the search we are about to engage in. We will begin with Marot ; not because his works are of very rare occurrence, (for there have been many editions of them,) but because, though fre- quently spoken of, and even recommended as a model of elegant " badinage" by Boileau, he is but little known amongst us ; which indeed is not much to be wondered at, when his own countrymen seem to have almost lost sight of him. " Marot is much talked of, but seldom read," says one of their critics.* " We do not read with pleasure that wliich has need of a dictionary to explain it. Almost all his expressions are antiquated."— " Villon and ]\Iarot, and some others, are satirical poets ; and their epigrams may be said to be the only titles they have to celebrity in the present day," says another.f All this may show the little taste the French now have for their elder poets. How othei-wise coidd they have overlooked those exquisite sketches, the Temple of Cupid, and the Eclogue of Pan and Robin, by Marot ; the latter of * M. Dussault, in a review of a selection of Marot's Works, inserted in his Annales Litteraires, t. i. p. 198. t M. Avenel, one of the writers in the Lycee Fran- gais, t. ii. p. 106, an entertaining miscellany that lasted but a short time after the decease of Charles Loyson, a young poet of considerable promise, who was a chief contributor to it. He died in the course of last year. EARLY FRENCH POETS. which is worthy the author of the Faerie Queene,* as the former is of Chaucer ? We might almost suppose ourselves to he reading an imitation of the proem to the Canterbury Tales, in the following verses with which the Temple of Cupid opens : Sur le printemps que la belle Flora Les champs converts de diverse fleur a, E son amy Zepbyrus les esvente, Quand doucement en Fair souspire e vente. The whole poem is indeed so fanciful, and so re- plete with a peculiar kind of sprightly humour, that I am not without hopes of amusing my readers by an abstract of it. In this merry spring-tide, the God commands that his eyes may be unbandaged, and looking round his celestial throne, sees all nations bending mider his sway, like a scion mider the wind ; and the other deities themselves, submitting to his power. But observing that Marot continued still refractory, he resolves to tame the rebel ; and taking an arrow out of his quiver, executes his purpose so effectually, as to render the unhappy poet an object of commisera- tion to all who have a heart capable of pity. In order to assuage his sufferings, Marot resolves on a far-off journey in search of the goddess Ferme-amour, * Indeed he has closely copied it in the Shepheard's Kalendar; Eel. 12. CLEMENT MAROT. 5 a pure and chaste dame, whom Jupiter had sent upon earth, committmg the government of loyal spirits to her care. A long time did the Poet com- pass land and sea, like a knight-errant, on tliis quest. Of all to whom he came he inquired whether she dwelt in their land ; but of none did he gain any tidings of her. At length he determines to go to the Temple Cupidique, in the hopes of finding her there ; and setting out early in the monimg, has no difficulty in discovering his way ; for many a passing pilgrim had sprinkled it with roses and branches of rosemary ; and as he advanced, he fell in with other pilgrims who journeyed on, sighing and relating their sad haps. Joining their company, he arrives with them at the royal temple ; where, in the enclosure that surrounded it, the sweet breath of the west-mnd, and Tityrus, and the god Pan with his flocks and herds, and the sound of pipes and flageolets, and of birds answering to them, soon refreshed his wearied spirits. Tous arbres sont en ce lieu verdoyans ; Petits ruisseaux y furent ondoyans, Toujours faisans, au tour des prez herbus TJn doux murmure : at quand le cler Pbebus Avoit droit la ses beaux rayons espars, Telle splendeur rendoit de toutes pars Ce lieu divin, qu'aux humaius bien sembloit Que terre au ciel de beaute ressembloit. 6 EARLY TRENCH POETS. His heart assured him that this was the residence of Ferme-amour ; and Hope led him onward to the dehghtful place. It seemed as if Jove had come from heaven on purpose to frame it ; and there was wanting nothing hut Adam and Eve to make one beheve that it was the terrestrial paradise itself. Over the portal he observes a scutcheon with the anus of Love engraved on it ; and higher up the fig-ure of Cupid himself, vdth his naked bow out- stretched and ready to discharge an arrow at the first comer. He now enters ; and is welcomed by Bel- accueil, who takes him by his right hand, and leads him through a narrow path into the beautiful enclosure of which he was the first porter. Le premier huis de toutes fleurs vermeilles Estoit construiste, et de boutons yssans, Sig'nifiant que joyes non pareilles Sont a jamais en ce lieu fleurissans : The door was built up of all flowers red And buds, that from their buttons issued, Denoting well that joys without compare For ever in that place j^-blooming were. This was the barrier kept by Bel-accueil in his green robe ; who day and night opens to true lovers and gracious ; and willingly enlists them mider his bamiers ; whilst he excludes (as reason is) all those who are such as the perfidious and disloyal Jason. "We now come to the great altar, which is a rock of CLEMENT MAEOT. 7 that A-irtue, that every lover who would flee from it is di'awn nearer, like steel to the magnet. The canopy is a cedar, which stretches so wide as to cover the altar, on which body, and heart, and goods, must be given up as an offering to Venus. De Cui:)ido le diademe Est de roses un chapelet, Que Venus cuellit elle meme Dedans son jardin verdelet ; Et sur le printemps nouvelet Le transmit a son cher enfant Qui de bon ca3ur le va coiifant ; Puis donna pour ces roses belles A sa mere un char triompbant Conduit par douze colombelles. Devant I'autel deux cypres sing-uliers Je vey fleurir sons odeur embasmee : Et me dit-on que c'etoient les pilliers Du grand aiitel de haulte renommee. Lors mille oiseaux d'une long-ue ramee, Vindrent voler sur ces vertes courtines, Prestz de chanter cbansonettes divines. Si demanday pourquoi la sont venus : Mais on me dit, amy, ce sont matines, Qu'ilz viennent dire en I'bonneur de Venus, On Cupid's brow for crown was set Of roses a fair chapelet, The which within her garden green Were gather'd by Love's gracious queen, 8 EARLY FKENCH POETS. And by her to her infant dear Sent in the spring-time of the year. These he with right good-will did don ; And to his mother thereupon A chariot gave, in triumph led By turtles twelve all harnessed. Before the altar saw I, blooming fair, Two cypresses, embalm'd with odours rare. And these, quoth they, are pillars that do bide To stay this altar famed far and wide. And then a thousand birds upon the wing Amid those curtains green came fluttering, Ready to sing their little songs divine. And so I ask'd, why came they to that shrine? And these, they said, are matins, friend ; which they In honour of Love's queen are come to say. Before the image of Cupid burned the brand of Distress, " le brandon de Destresse," with which Dido, Biblis, and Helen of Greece, were inflamed. Now, however, it served as a lamp to the temple. The saints of either sex, who are invoked here, are Beau-parler, Bien-celer, Bon-rapport, Grace, Marcy, Bien-serv-ir, Bien-aymer, and others, without whose aid no pilgrim can succeed in overtaking the prey which he pursues in the Forest of Loves. Chandelles flambans, ou esteintes, Que tous amoureux pelerins Portent devant tels saincts et sainctes, Ce sont bouquets de romarins. CLEMENT MAROT. » Les chantres, linotz, et serins, Et rossig-nolz au gay courage, Qui sur buissons de verd bocage Ou branclies, en lieu de pulpitres, Cbantent le joly chant ramage, Pour versets, respons, et epistres. Les vitres sont de clair et fin crystal, Ou peintes sont les gestes autlientiques De ceux qui ont jadis de coeur loyal Bien observe d' Amour les loix antiques. Torches quench'd or flaming high, That all loving pilgrims bear Before the saints that list their prayer, Are posies made of rosemary. Many a linnet and canary, And many a gay nightingale, Amid the green-wood's leafy shroud. Instead of desks on branches smale,* For verse, response, and 'pistle loud, Sit shrilling of their merry song. The windows were of crystal clear. On which old gestes depeinten are. Of such as with true hearts did hold The laws by Love ordain'd of old. In secret tabernacles and little shrines are deposited necklaces, rings, crowns, (coins), ducats, and chains of gold; by which greater miracles are wTought in * This reminds one of a line in Shakspeare's sonnets : " Bare ruin'd choirs where late the sweet birds sang." 10 EARLY FUENCH POETS. love than even by the mighty samt Beau-paiier (Fine- talk) himself. The vaults and arches are marvellously interlaced with trellis-work of vines, from which the young buds and grapes are seen depending. The bells are tabou.rs, dulcimers, harps, lutes, ho- boes, flageolets, trumpets, and clarions ; from which, whensoever they are sounded, there issues a chime so melodious, that there is no soldier, however fond of war, who would not quit lance and sabre to become a monk in this temple. On the sick and infirm, who are recommended for charity, the ladies bestow smiles, and kind looks, and kisses, for alms. The preachers are elderly matrons, who exhort their younger sisters not to lose the flower of their age ; and many are the converts that are won over by this doctrine. The cemetery is a green wood ; the walls, hedges and brakes ; the crosses are fruit trees ; and the De Profuudis, merry songs. Ovid, Master Alain Chartier, Petrarch, and the Romantof the Rose, serve for Mass-book, Breviary, and Psalter ; and the lessons chaunted are rondeaux, ballads, and vire- lavs. Other manner of chaunts there are, that consist "«nly of cries, wailings, and complaints. The little chapels or oratories, are leafy chambers and branching cabinets ; labyrinths in woods and gardens, where one loses oneself while the green lasts ; the wickets are low bushes, and the pavement all of green sward. CLEMENT MAROT. 1 1 The eau-benite (or holy water) stood in a lake, called the lake of tears, made from the weeping of lovers. Nothing can grow near it ; but every thing there is withered throughout the year. The water- sprinkle was a faded rose. As for the incense that was burned within the temple, it was composed of daisies, pmks, amaranths, roses, rosemary, red but- tons, lavender, and every flower that casts a comfort- able smell ; but the marigold too (the flower of care, " de la soucie") was amongst them : — Voila qui mi trouble le sens. Genius, the arch-priest, stands ready to administer the vows to all who are desirous of professing. The altars, whereon they are sworn, are couches covered with sumptuous ornaments ; no candles are used day or night ; and the terms of their profession are so clear, that novices know more than the most learned clerks. The masses for requiem are serenadings ; and the solemn words repeated for the deceased, as pater- nosters and avemaryes, are the gossiping and prattle of women. The sacred processions are the morris- dancing, and mumming, and antic feats of amorous champions ; their consolings are to talk pair by pair, or to read the Ars Amandi for gospels ; and their holy relics are the lips of their ladies. On all sides, says Marot, I look round me and contemplate ; and in my 12 EARLY FRENCH POETS. life I think I never saw a temple so well fitted at all points, excepting one — and that was, that there was no pix (paix) on the altar. Joy there is, and mourn- ing full of wrath ; for one rest, ten travails ; and in brief, it would be hard to say whether it were more like Hell or Paradise : I know not what to compare it to better than a rose encompassed with thorns ; short pleasures and long complainings. After some other adventures in the temple, he at last finds Ferme-amour in the choir between a great prince and an excellent lady, who were invested with the royal fleiu--de-lys and ducal ermines. Bel-accueil opens for him the entrance into the choir, and he gladly enlists himself under the standard of Ferme- amour ; but the play on the words, choeur and cceur, on which the conclusion turns, cannot be preserved in English. It may be seen from this \aew of one of his poems how strong a resemblance Marot bears to Chaucer. He has the same liveliness of fancy ; the same rapidity and distinctness of pencil ; the same archness ; the same disposition to satire : but he has all these generally in a less degree. His language does not ap- proach much nearer to the modern than old Geoffrey's ; though his age is so much less remote from ours. Marot was contemporaiy with our writers in the time of Henry VIII. ; and had they left any thing equal to this piece, or to the Epistle of Maguelonne a son Amy CLEMENT MAROT. 13 Pierre de Provence, or to the Hero and Leander of this writer, many a lover of antique simpUcity would have risen up amongst us to shew how superior such com- positions were to the nugse canorse of later times. A passage in the last mentioned of these poems, descriptive of the reception Hero gives her lover, after his first swimming across the Hellespont, appears to me to be a model of ease and sweetness. Elle embrassa d'amour et d'aise pleine Son cher espoux quasi tout hors d'aleine, Ayant encor ses blancs cheveux mouillez Tous deg-outtans, et d'escume souillez. Lors le mena dedans son cabinet ; Et quand son corps eut essuye bien net, D'liuile rosat bien odorant I'oig-nit, Et de la mer la senteur estaiug'uit.* Du Bellay, a poet who lived in Marot's time, con- sidered his Eclogue on the Birth of the Dauphin as one of his best productions. It is little more than a translation of the PoUio of Virgil. His tale of the Lion and Rat opened the way for La Fontaine's excellence in that species of MTiting. The epigrams, for which he is so much applauded, * It will be found on a comparison with the Greek poem of Musteus, that Marot has followed it very closely. I have not Marlovv and Chapman's poem, lately re-edited with a pleasant preface, nor Mr. Elton's translation, to compare with this. 14 EAKLY FRENCH POETS. are often gross and licentious. I have selected one that is not open to this objection. Plus ne suis ce que j'ay este, Et ne le s9aurois jamais estre. Mon beau printemps et mon este Ont fait le sault par la fenestre. Amour tu as este mon maistre, Je t'ay servi sur tous les Dieux. O si je pouvois deux fois naistre, Comma je te servirois mieux. The merit of this so much depends on the delicacy and happy turn of the expression that I am loth to venture it in English. Clement Marot, vs^hom I have thus endeavoured to introduce to the notice of my readers, was born at Cahors, in Quercy, in 1484. His father Jean,* a Norman, was also a poet of some celebrity ; as appears from an epigram addressed by his son to Hugues Salel, another writer of whom it is intended to give some account in a future paper. De Jan de Meun s'enfle le cours de Loire. En maistre Alain Normandie prent gloire : Et plaint encore mon arbre paternel. " The Loire swells with pride at the name of Jean de Meun. Normandy glories in Master Alain (Alain Chartier), and still mourns for my paternal tree." * Jean Marot's poems were published at Paris, 1723, in two volumes ; together with those of Michel, who was, I think, the sou of Clement. CLEMENT MAROT. 15 During the captivity of Francis I. in Spain, Clement was apprehended on a suspicion of heresy, and con- fined in the Chatelet at Paris, from whence he was transferred to Chartres. Ha^■ing been deUvered through the intercession of his friends, but still fear- ing a second imprisonment, he took refuge, first with Margaret of Navarre, the King's sister, and after- wards at Ferrara, with Renee, Duchess of that city, and daughter of Louis XII. To these events in his hfe he refers in some verses addressed to those through whose kindness he had obtained his freedom. J'euz a Paris prison fort inhuniaine : A Chartres fuz doucement encloue : Maintenant vois, ou mon plaisir me maine ; C'estbien et mal. Dieu soit de tout loue. " At Paris my prison was a cruel one ; in my confine- ment at Chartres I had milder usage. Now I go where my pleasure leads me. It is g'ood and evil. God be praised for all." At Ferrara, he contracted a friendship with Calvin, and is said to have embraced the opinions of that reformer. But at the sohcitation of Paul III. the Duke of Ferrara determined on banishing all the wits and learned men, who were suspected of heresy, out of his territories ; and the Duchess prevailed on the King of France to allow ^larot to return to his court, and to restore him to favour, on condition of his again 16 EAKLY FRENCH POETS. becoming a dutiful son to the Church. Against the charge of dissension he thus defends himself: — Point ne suis Lutlieriste, Ne Zuinglien, et moins Anabaptiste : Je suis de Dieu far son Filz Jesus Christ. Je suis celuy qui ay fait maint escrit, Dont un seul vers on n'en sauroit extraire, Qui a la loi divine soit contraire. Je suis celuy, qui prens plaisir, et peine A louer Christ et la mere tant pleine De grace infuse ; et pour bien I'eprouver, On le pourra par mes escrits trouver. A Monsieur BmccJiart, Docteur en Theologie. " I am neither Lutheran nor Zuinglian ; and still less an Anabaptist : I am of God by his Son Jesus Christ. I am one that have written many a poem ; from none of which a single line can be adduced contrary to the divine law. I am one whose delight and whose labour it is to exalt my Saviour and his all-gracious Mother. The best proof of this may be found in my writings." From his verses to the King, written during his residence at Ferrara, it appears that he thought him- self in danger of being put to the stake as a heretic. The argimicnt which he uses to defend himself on account of having prohibited hooks in his possession, are much the same as Milton has since urged on a similar subject in his Areopagitica. On his return to France in 1536, he employed him- self in translating some of the Psalms into French THIBAUT, KING OF NAVARRE. 17 metre, from the version of Vatable, the royal pro- fessor of Hebrew, which gave so much scandal to the doctors of the Sorboune, that they induced the King to prevent him from continuing his work. Still however he persisted in delivering his senti- ments on rehgion with such freedom as to keep alive the resentment of his enemies ; and he at last found it necessary to remove to Geneva. Here he was accused of hanng committed some gross irregularities of conduct, of which I am Avilling to believe him innocent. He then retired to Turin, and died in poverty at the age of sixty. THIBAUT,* KING OF NAVARRE. Whether Thibatjt, King of Navarre, was or was not the favoured lover of Blanch, Queen Regent of France, and mother of Louis the Ninth, is a question that has been much debated. Those, who maintain the affirmative, rely chiefly on the hearsay evidence of * This notice of Tliibaut, as it carries us back to an earlier period than any of the after pages, so was it written and published prior to all the rest. It is, how- ever, placed second in this volume, because the account of Clement Marot purports to introduce us to the series. — Ed. c 18 EAELY FRENCH POETS. Matthew Paris, and on the assertion of an old French chronicler, whose name and age are unknown. On the other side are to he taken into the account the total silence of Joinville, the contemporary historian on the subject, and that of several other annalists who lived at or near the time, the general good character of Blanch, and the disparity of her years, for she was nearly old enough to be the mother of Thibaut. But a scandalous report, however improbable, when it has been once broached, seldom fails to spread far and wide ; and the " Fama refert" of Matthew has been eagerly caught at by a host of later writers,— amongst whom are Duhaillan, the first of French historians, who incorporated the annals of his comitry into the narration ; Favin, who wrote the history of Navarre ; Mezerai ; Rapin ; and the Pere Daniel. It is well known that the curtailment of one word, which a hasty scribe had reduced to the unlucky consonants prtbns, has thrown the whole life and character of Petrarch's Laura into confusion and per- plexity. Did he mean it for parturitionibus ? — He did, says the Abbe de Sade, at the same time claiming for himself the honour to derive his parentage from one of these ill-omened throes ; and immediately the modest nymph of the Sorga is transformed into a married coquette, with as large a litter about her as the boon goddess in Mr. Hilton's picture has, and the little biographer straining after his own bubble at the THIBAUT, KING OF NAVARRE. 19 top. Shall we substitute perturbationibus with Lord Woodhouselee ? — It is quite another story : Laura is not only reinstated in her " single blessedness," but is rendered an object of mterest and compassion by her numerous and undeserved sufferings. Something of the same sort has happened in the case we are now considering. In the first of his songs, according to one of the manuscripts in the Royal Library at Paris,* the Kmg of Navarre calls his mistress " La blonde couronnee,'''' — " The crowned fair." "On reading this," says the editor of the Chansons,t (to whose account of the matter I am indebted for my information,) " I had no doubt but that Thibaut was enamoured of Blanch." But the inadvertence of a transcriber had again thrown an unmerited suspicion on the innocent. On consulting other written copies of the same song, the candid inquirer owned that he had discovered reasons for altering his mind. In them, " La blonde coloree"X were the words ; wliich, in Shakspeare's language, may be rendered, one — ♦ No. 7222. t Les Poesies du Roy de Navarre, avec des Notes et \\n Glossaire Francois, &c. Paris, 1742. 2 Tom. 8vo. I The same combination of words occurs elsewhere in these songs, and in the Romant de la Rose : — La. face blanche coloree, L'halcine douce et savouree. 20 EAELY FRENCH POETS. Whose red and white, Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on ; ' and the character of the Queen was agam cleared. It is quite lamentable to think how shght an accident may destroy or impeach the reputation of a virtuous princess in the eyes of posterity. I could Avish that the old Punic language were recovered, and that some Carthaginian manuscripts could be disin- terred, which should equally rescue the fame of Dido from the aspersions cast upon it by Virgil, who, it is to be feared, though a modest man on the whole, was yet, as a determined bachelor, somewhat free in his opinions on certain j)oints, and besides much corrupted by his intimacy with Horace. The -vindication which Ercilla, the heroic poet of Spain, (in this instance so truly deserving of the title,) has midertaken of her cause, might then be triumphantly established. Without thus clearing the way, I could not have reconciled it to myself to say a word about the Chansons of Thibaut. But having so far satisfied my conscience, of which I hold it the duty of every critic on such occasions to be very tender, I have the less scruple in laying before my readers an imitation of one of these songs, together with the original. First, however, I shall premise a few remarks on the origin and nature of French song-wTiting, which I have gleaned out of a learned dissertation by the editor before mentioned. THIBAUT, KING OF NAVAURE. 21 It appears that abusive ballads, (the first species of songs that are known to have been composed in that language,) were made as early as the expedition of Godfre}^ of Bouillon, on the occasion of Arnulf, chap- lain to the Count of Normandy, being appointed Patriarch of Jerusalem, after he had disgraced himself by some irregularities of conduct during his march to the holy city. Gautier de Coincy, a monk of St. Medard de Soissons, composed a large number of songs, yet remaining in manuscript, together with his other poems. He was in the time of Philip Augustus. The next to Coincy, were those writers of songs con- tained in the manuscripts of which the King of Navarre's form a part. Of these, Chretien de Troyes and Aubion de Sezane wrote at the end of the twelfth century. Thibaut, King of Navarre, who was bom in 1201, and died in 1253, is said to have been dis- tinguished from the rest not more by his high station than by the superior elegance and refinement of his style. The first French songs were called Lais, from the Latin lessus, a complaint ; though they had often no more pretensions to the name than the nightingale has to the title of " the melancholy bird." Like the Proven9al, they have in general five stanzas, with an envoi at the end. The measure is most commonly the ten-syllable, with a pause on the fourth. The rhymes are very exact, not only to the eye, but to 22 EARLY TEENCH POETS. the ear ; but an indispensable alternation of the mas- culine and feminine rhymes was not adopted till the age of Marot and Ronsard ; though one or two in- stances of it may be found in Thibaut's songs. The following is one that was composed by him as an encouragement to the Crusaders. I had intended to entertain my readers with one of his love ditties ; but the subject of this was so much more uncommon, and it seemed to bear so strongly the marks of a deep and solemn feeling, that I have selected it in preference to the rest. Thibaut was not one of those " who reck not their own rede ;" for he himself served in the holy wars ; and it might be for this, amongst his other worthy deeds, that the great Italian poet, who was very near his time, has given him the name of the "buon re Tebaldo,"* "The good king Thibavdt." It may be supposed to have been written about the year 1236, at the time when he joined the Crusaders. Take him, O Lord, who to that land shall g'o, Where he did die and live who reigns with Thee : But scarce shall they the road to heaven know Who will not bear his cross beyond the sea. By such as have compassion and kind thought Of their dear Lord, his vengeance should be sought, And freedom for his land and his countrie. * Dante Inferno, c. xxii. THIBAUT, KIXG OP XAVAURE. 23 But yonder all the evil men will stay, AVho love not God, nor truth, nor loyalty. " What will betide my wife V shall each one say ; " I would not leave my friends for any fee." Fond is the trust wherein they put their stead ; For friend is none, save him that without dread Did hang for us upon the holy tree. Now on shall g'o each valiant knig-ht and squire. That loves his God, and holds his honour dear, And wisely doth the bliss of heaven desire. But drivellers, skulking- at their hearths for fear, Keep far away : such deem I blind indeed. That succour not their God when he hath need, And for so little lose their glory here. God, who for us did suffer on the tree. To all their doom in that great day shall tell : " Ye, who have help'd to bear the rood for me, Ye to that place shall go where angels dwell. Me there to view, and mine own Mother Maid : But ye, by whom I had not ever aid, Down shall ye sink into the deep of hell." Whoso in weal would pass their life away, Nor meet at all with trouble or affrig'ht, They are his foes esteem'd ; such sinners they. As have nor sense, nor hardihood, nor might. Our hearts, good Lord, from such vain thoughts set free, And lead us to thy land so holily. That we may stand before thy blessed sight. 24 EARLY FRENCH POETS. The envoi. Sweet lady, crowTied queen above, Pray for us. Virgin, in tby love ; So shall we guide henceforth our steps aright. Signer, saciez,' ki or ne s'en ira En cele terre, vi Diex fu mors et vis, Et ki la crois d'outre mer ne prendra, A paines- mais^ ira en jiaradis : Ki a en soi pitie et ramembrance Au haut Seignor, doit querre^ sa venjance, Et deliverer sa terre et son pais. Tout il mauvais demorront^ par dega, Ki n'aiment Dieu, bien, ne honor, ne pris, Et chascuns dit, Ma feme que fera ? Je ne lairoie® a nul fuer mes amis : Cil sont assis en trop fole attendance, K'il n'est amis fors, que cU sans dotance,'' Ki pour nos fu en la vraie crois mis. Or s'en iront cil vaillant Bacheler, Ki aiment Dieu, et I'oiaour de cest mont, Ki sagement voelent a Dieu aler, Et li morveus, li cendreus^ demourront : ' Saciez — sacar (Spanish) to take. ^ A paines — a peine, scarcely. ^ mais — mai (Italian) ever. * Querre — queerere (Latin), to seek. ^ Demorer — demeurer, to stay. ^ Lairoie — for laisserois. "^ Dotance — doubt, fear. ^ Cendreus — cineraceus (Latin) one who cowers over the embers. THIBAL'T, KING OF NAVARRE. 2o Avugle sont, de ce ne dout-je mie,^ Ki un secours ne font Dieu en sa de, Et por si pot pert la gloire del mont. Diex se laissa por nos en crois pener, Et nous dira au jour, ou tuit'" venront, " Vos, ki ma crois m'aidates a porter, Vos en irez la, ou li Ang-ele sont, La me verrez, et ma Mere IMarie ; Et vos, par qui je n'oi onques aie," Descendez tuit en infer le parfont.'"^ Cascuns quide'^ demourer toz''' liaitiez," Et que jamais ne doive mal avoir, Ainsi les tient enemis et pechiez. Que ils n'ont sens, hardement, ne pooir : Bian Sire Diex ostez nos tel pensee, Et nos metez en la vostre contree Si saintement, que vos puisse veoir. L^envoi. Douce Dame, Roine coronee, Proiez pour nos, Virge bien euree,'^ Et puis apres ne nos puit mesclieoirJ'' 9Mie— ajot. '« Tuit— all. " Aie— aid. '^ Parfont — profound. '^Quide — credit (Latin) thinks, '* Toz —all. '* Haitiez — healthy. ^* Bien euree — bienheu- reuse. '^ ilescheoir — to fall out ill. 26 EARLY FRENCH POETS. ANTOINE HEROET. Avia Pieridum j^eragro loca. Antoine Heroet, how strange soever his name may now appear, in his own day was thought worthy of being put in competition with Clement Marot, who has had the better fortune of being still at least talked of. Joachim du Bellay, in his Defence and Illustration of the French Language, in which he has spoken of both more than once, informs us of the qualities by which each of them had attracted his own particular set of admirers. One man, says he, will tell you that he likes Marot, because he is easy, and not far remoA^ed from the matter of common discourse ; another, that Heroet pleases him, be- cause his verses are learned, grave, and elaborate. It has happened as might be expected — the natural vein of the one has outlasted the erudition of the other. Heroet may properly be called a metaphysical poet. Johnson, with some latitude of expression, has given that name to Cowley, and some of the other wits in Charles the Second's time ; and, with still less propriety, has considered those writers to be followers of Marino, who is very lavish in his de- scriptions, and much disposed, in Ovid's manner, to ANTOIXE HEROET. 27 play upon his words, but not at all metaphysical : for it is possible that a wTiter may be highly meta- physical, and yet free from conceits ; as he may be full of conceits, and yet not in the least open to the charge of being metaphysical. La Parfaite Amie, The Perfect ^Mistress, the first poem in Heroct's collection, is in a strain of exces- sive Platonic refinement throughout. But he has clothed his abstruse conceptions in language that is utterly devoid of affectation, and besides nearer to that of the present day than Marot's. I have selected an allegorical story* out of the second book, which, however mysterious the allusion in it may be, is yet, for the cleamiess of the expression, (if I may be allowed such a phrase,) comparable to some of the choice passages in our dramatic wTiters of Elizabeth's age. On dit que pleine est una isle de biens, D'arbres, de fruits, de plaisante verdure, Qu en elle ha faict son chef-d'-oeuvre Nature. Et qu' immortelz les hommes j vivans Sont, tous plaisirs, et delices suy\'ans. La ne se rend, ny jamais n'ha este Froideur d'yver, ny la chaleur d'este. La saison est un gracieux printemps, Ou tous les plus malheureux sont contens. * This story is also in Bembo, Gli Asolani, fol. 99, Ed. Yen. 1546. 28 EARLY FRENCH POETS. De son bon gre terre produit le bien, On ne dit point entre eux ny tien, ny mien. Tout est commun, sans peine, et jalousie, Raison domine, et non pas fautaisie. Chascun S9ait bien ce, qu'il veult demander, Chascun S9ait bien ce, qu'il fault commander ; Ainsi chascun lia tout ce, qu'il demande, Chascun sr-ait bien ce, qu'ba faire commande. Cette ysle la se nomme fortunee, Et comme on dit, par Royne est gouvemee. Si bien parlant, si scavante et si belle. Que d'un rayon de la grand' beaute d'elle Tous les pais voisins sont reliTisans. Quand elle voit arriver courtisans, (Comme y en ha de si tres curieux, Qu'ilz n'ont aucun danger, devant les yeux) Et aspirer a la felicite, Qu'elle promest a ceux de sa cite, Les estrangers faict ensemble venir, Lesquelz devant que vouloir retenir, Envoye tous dormir quelque saison. Quand assez ont dormy selon raison. On les resveille, et viennent devant elle : Bien ne leur sert excuse ne cautelle ; Ny beau parler, ny les importuns cris : Dessus leurs frons sont leurs songes escrits. Qui ha les chiens, et les oyseaux songe, Ha promptement de la Royne conge : On les renvoye avecques telles bestes. Qui ha resve d'estre rompeur de testes, D'entretenir guerre, et sedition, AXTOIXE UEROET. 29 Honneurs mondains, extreme ambition, Semblablement est de la court banny. Qui ha le front pasle, mort, et terny, Monstrant desir de biens, et de richesse, De luy ne veult la Royne estre maistresse. Bref, des dormeurs nul en I'isle retient, Sinon celuy, quand esveille revient, Qui ba songe de la grand' beaute d'elle : Tant de plaisir ba d'estre et sembler belle, Que tel songeur en I'isle est bien venu. Tout ce discours est pour fable tenu : Mais qui premier I'ha faict, et recite. Nous ba voulu dire une verite. Opuscules d' Amour, far Heroet, La Borderie, et autres Divins Poetcs. A Lyon, par Jean de Tournes, 1547, p. 46. There is an isle Full, as they say, of good things ; fruits and trees And pleasant verdure : a very master-piece Of Nature's ; where the men immortally Live, following all delights and pleasures. There Is not, nor ever hath been, winter's cold Or summer's heat : the season still the same, One gracious spring, where aU, e'en those worst used By Fortune, are content. Earth willingly Pours out her blessing : the words " thine" and " mine" Are not known 'mongstthem : all is common, free From pain and jealous grudging. Reason rules, Not Fantasy: that every one knows well 30 EARLY FRENCH POETS. What he would ask of other ; every one, What to command : thus every one hath that Which he doth ask ; what is commanded, does. This island hath the name of Fortunate ; And, as they tell, is govern'd by a Queen Well spoken, and discreet, and therewithal So beautiful, that, with one single beam Of her g-reat beauty, all the country round Is render'd shining. When she sees arrive (As there are many so exceeding curious They have no fear of danger 'fore their eyes) Those who come suing to her, and aspire After the happiness which she to each Doth promise in her city, she doth make The strangers come together ; and forthwith. Ere she consenteth to retain them there, Sends for a certain season all to sleep. When they have slept so much as there is need. Then wake they them again ; and summon them Into her presence. There avails them not Excuse or caution ; speech, however bland, Or importunity of cries. Each bears That on his forehead written visibly Whereof he hath been dreaming. They, whose dreams Have been of birds and hounds, are straight dismiss'd ; And, at her royal mandate, led away. To dwell thenceforward with such beasts as these. He, who hath dream'd of sconces broken, war. And turmoils, and seditions, glory won. And highest feats achieved, is, in like guise. An exile from her court ; whilst one, whose brow AXTOINE HEROET. 31 Is pale, and dead, and wither'd, showing care Of pelf and riches, she no less denies To be his queen and mistress. None, in brief, Reserves she of the dreamers in her isle, Save him, that, when awaken'd he returns, Betrayeth tokens that, of her rare beauty. His dreams have been. So great delight has she, In being and in seeming beautiful, Such dreamer is right welcome to her isle. All this is held a fable ; but who first Made and recited it, hath in this fable Shadowed a truth. Another passage, in the third book of this poem, is curious, as it shows what the prevalent taste in female beauty was at tliat time. Amour n'est pas enchanteur si divers. Que les jeux noirs face devenir verds, Qu'un brun obscur en blancheur clere toume, Ou qu'un traict gros du visage destoume : Mais s'il se trouve assis en cceur gentil, Si penetrant est son feu, et subtil, Qu'il rend le corps de femme transparent, Et se presente au visage apparent Je ne S9ay quoy, qu'on ne peut exprimer, Qui se faict plus que les beautes aimer. (P. 58.) Love is not such a strange enchanter That he can change a black eye to a hazel, Or turn dark brown into a pearly white, Or shape a grosser feature into fineness. And yet, when seated in a gentle heart, 32 EARLY FRENCH POETS. So subtle and so iiiercinor is his fire, He makes a woman's body all transparent ; And, in ber visage, dotb present to view I know not what, tbat words cannot express, Wbicb makes itself be more, than beauty, loved. This is one of the many instances, in which the early French poets have spoken of the " yeux verds," " green eyes," (which I have taken the liberty of translatuig into hazel,) as being admired above all others. So we find in Romeo and Juliet, act iii. sc. 5. An eagle, madam, Hath not so green, so quick, so fair an eye. The next poem, by Heroet, is formed on the fiction, in Plato's Banquet, of the Androgynon : a poetical epistle to Francis I. is prefixed to it. His other pieces are much in the same style. I have learnt nothing more concerning this writer than that he was made Bishop of Digne by Francis I. that he was, nevertheless, like Marot, suspected of Calvinism, and that he died in the year 1568. In this same volume (which, by the way, is printed in a running t}"pe of uncommon neatness, and is in De Bure's Bibliographic,) at p. 237, is a poem en- titled, Nouvel Amour, which I find, by a maimscript note, to be by the Sieur Papillon, though the writer of the note must be mistaken in saying (as he does), that it is extracted from a similar book, printed at AXTOINE HEROET. 33 Paris, 1551, in 16mo. as that date is posterior to the date of the present volume. There is a fine description in it of the trouble throughout all nature, at a quarrel between Venus and her son. It ends thus : — En lamentant, puis la terre s'ouvrit, Et de noirceur sa face elle couvrit. Dessus les tours apparureut les fees, En robes d'or, et d'arg'ent estoffees : Et murmuroient entre elles rudement, Craignant de veoir perir le firmament. Et fut ouy en ce temps miserable, Trois fois un son, horrible, espouvantable, De gros marteaux, de cbesnes, et de fers, Du plus profond abisme des enfers. (P. 263.) Earth with a dismal scream was severed ; And gathering darkness o'er her visage spread. Upon the tops of towers the fays were seen To trail long robes of gold and silver sheen ; And mutter' d, as they pass'd, their uncouth wonder, Fearing the firmament should fall asunder. And thrice was heard, in that ill-omen'd day, A sound, that might the stoutest heart aifray, Of heavy hammers, clanking chains, and bars. That mix'd in deepest hell their horrid jars. The dispute is settled by the intervention of Jupiter. At p. 269, there follows a letter in rhyme, called Le Discours de Voyage de Constantinople, envoye 34 EAELY FRENCH POETS. dudit lieu a mie Damoyselle de France, par le Seigneur de Borderie. "An account of a Voyage to Constantinople, sent from the said place to a young- French Lady, by the Seigneur de Borderie." On their way, among other places, they touch at Athens. Nous n'eusmes pas un demy jour loysir, De voir ce lieu, ou prenons grand plaisir, Voyant encor de la cite superbe Les fondemens tons entiers, couvres d'herbe. Leur grand dessaing assez donnoit entendre, Qu'elle pouvoit grand espace comprendre. Ayant aussi un theatre appergeu, Que le long temps desmolir n'avoit sceu ; Sur grands piUers de marbre bien assis, Seize de long, et de fronc six a six, Duqviel les Grece avoient faict a leur guise, De Saint Andre une nouvelle Eglise ; Ayant un mur au dedens faict en ceme, Que I'oeil jugeoit assez estre moderne. (P. 318.) " We had not half a day's leisure allowed us to see this place, where we were much delighted, beholding the foundations of the noble city entire, and covered with grass. Their extensive traces sufficiently marked the great space which it has comprised. We perceived also a theatre, which length of time had not been able to demolish, upon great pillars of marble, handsomely placed, sixteen lengthwise, and, in front, six by six. The Greeks, after their fashion, had made of it a church, MELLIN DE SAINT GELAIS. 35 dedicated to Saint Andrew ; having a round wall within, manifestly of modern construction."' Ther emainder is, for the most part, equally humble with this extract. MELLIN DE SAINT GELAIS. Mellin de Saint Gelais is commended by Joachim du Bellay, in that poet's address to the reader prefixed to his own works, for ha\'ing been the first who dis- tinguished himself as a writer of sonnets in the French language. He left only seventeen of them. At least, I find no more in the collection of his poems, pubhshed soon after his decease. But it was a prolific race, and in a short time multiplied exceedingly. Two out of these seventeen will, I dare say, satisfy the reader as to quantity. And for the quality, I can assure him they are not the worst of the batch. II n'est point tant de barques a Venise, D'huistres a Bourg, de lievres en Champaigne, D'ours en Savoye, et de veaux en Bretaigne, De Cygnes blancs le long de la Tamise, Ne tant d'Amours si traitent en I'Eglise, De differents aux peuples d'Alemaigne, Ne tant de gloire a un Seigneur d'Espaigne, Ne tant si trouve a la Cour de faintise, 36 EARLY FRENCH POETS. Ne tant y a de monstres en Afrique, D'opinions en une Republique, Ne de pardons a Romme aux jours de feste, Ne d'avarice aux hommes de pratique, Ne d'argumens en une Sorbonique, Que m' amie a de lunes en la teste. Oeuvres Poetiqices de Mellin de S. Gelais. Lyon. Par Antoine de Harsy, 157 A, p. 84. So many barks are not for Venice bound ; Nor oysters, Bourg can shew , or calves Bretagne; Or Savoy, bears ; or leverets, Champagne ; Or Thamis, silver swans, his shores around : Not amorous treaties so at church abound, Or quarrels in the Diet of Almaine, Not so much boasting in a Don of Spain, Not so much feigning at the Court is found : Monsters so numerous hath not Africa, Nor minds so various a republic bred, Nor pardons are at Rome on holyday, Or cravings underneath a lawyer's gown, Or reas'nings with the doctors of Sorbonne ; As there are lunes in my sweet lady's head. De Monsieur Ic Dauphin. Vous que second la noble France honore, Pouvez cueillir par ces pres florissans, Oeillets pour vous seul s'espanouissans, Esclos ensemble avec la belle Aurore, Pour vostre front le rosier se coUore, Dont les chapeaux si haut lieu couguoissans, MELLIN DE SAIXT GELAIS. 37 Forment boutons de honte rougissans, Sachant que mieux vous apiiartient encore. Ceinte de Hz la blanche Galathee Ses fruits vous garde en deux paniers couYerts, L'un d'olivier, I'autre de laurier verds. Ainsi cbantoit des Nymplies escoutee La belle Egle dont Pan oyant le son, Du grand Henry Fappella la chanson. (P. 87.) On the Dauphin. Thou, who art second in our noble France, Mayst cull at -will, along each blooming mead, These pinks, whose hues for thee alone are spread, First opening- with the morning's early glance ; For thee the rose-bush doth his top advance. Whose coronals, with buttons vermeil-red, Blush all for shame to hold so high their head, Trusting yet more thy pleasure to enhance. The milk-white Galathea, lily-crown'd, For thee in panniers twain her fruits doth screen, OneveiPd with olive, one with myrtle green. Thus sang fair ^gle, while the nymphs around Smiled as they listen'd; and Pan heard the song, And to great Harry bade the notes belong. The Sonnet was not the only form of composition adopted by Saint Gelais from the Italian tongue. He borrowed from it the Ottava Rima also. In the Chant Villanesque (p. 235) he has comiter- feited the charm of a rustic simplicity with much skill. 38 EARLY FRENCH POETS. Mellin was supposed to be the natural son of Octavien de Saint Gelais, Sieur de Lunsac, and Bishop of Angouleme, and was born in 1491. The father, besides his own original works, among which the Vergier d'Hoinieur was one, was the author of translations into French verse of the ^neid, several books of the Odyssey, and the Epistles and ArsAmandi of Ovid. His profession did not restrain him from much freedom both in his hfe and writings. He is said to have bestowed great pains on his son's educa- tion, who profited as well as could be hoped mider such a guide and tutor ; for he learnt to write verses better than his father, but with a sufficient portion of ribaldry in them. Mellia had a high reputation in the courts of Francis I. and Henry II. He was abbot of Recluz, and royal almoner and librarian. A copy of verses directed to Clement Marot (p. 1 76) when they were both in ill-health, shows his regard for that poet. It begins, Gloire et regret des Poetes de France, Clement Marot, ton ami Sainct Gelais, Autant marri de ta long-ue souifrance, Comme ravi de tes doux chants et lais, &c. " Glory and regret of the Poets of France, Clement Marot ; thy friend Saint Gelais, who is as much grieved by thy long suffering, as he is charmed by thy songs and lays, &c." MELLIN DE SAIXT GELAIS. 39 Both he and Clement celebrated the restoration of Laura's tomb, at Angnon, by Francis I. He addresses also Hugues Salel, of whom we shall soon hear more ; though they had not yet made an acquaintance with each other. His conduct towards Ronsard was somewhat un- generous ; but that poet, with his characteristic generosity, forgave more than once the ill offices which Saint Gelais was supposed to have done him at court. His talent for epigrammatic satire was so much dreaded, that " Gare a la tenaille de Saint Gelais ;" " 'Ware of Samt Gelais pincers," became a proverbial saying. He was celebrated for his skill in Latin poetry, and composed the following verses, when near his end. Barbite, qui varies lenisti pectoris sestus, Dum juvenem nimc sors, nunc ag'itabat amor ; Perfice ad extremum, rapidseque incendia febris Qua potes infirmo fac leviora seni. Certe ego te faciam, superas evectus ad auras, Insignem ad Cytbara^ sidus habere locum. Harp, that didst soothe my cares, when opening life With love and fortune waged alternate strife, Fulfil thy task : allay the fervid rage Of fever preying- on my feeble age ; So, when I reach the skies, a place shall be, Near the celestial Ij-re, allotted thee. 40 EARLY FEENCH POETS. He died at Paris, in 1559. His works were re- edited, with additions, in that city, in 1719 ; as I find in De Bure's Bibhographie. HUGUES SALEL. HuGUES Salel is one of those writers who, ha\ing been much caressed and applauded by their contem- poraries, meet with a different treatment from pos- terity. Looking into a modern compilation of some authority for an accomit of him, I find that he is pronounced to be awkward, embarrassed, and languid ; and that he is T;vithout any ceremony condemned to a place among the poets that merit no better fate than to he on the shelf, and be gnawn by worms. I sup- pose, therefore, that it is in this vermicidar capacity I must own that I have tasted, and found him no misavoury food. If matters come to the worst, there is something at least in his title page that will be relished by all those who honour an old book, as some honour a great man, for nothing else but the title. Here is the style in which it rims : — " Les Oeuvres de Hugues Salel, Valet de Chambre ordinaire du Roy, imprimees par Commandement dudict Seigneur. Avec Privilege pour six Ans. Imprime k Paris, pour Estiemie Rof- HUGUES SALEL. 41 fet, dit le Faulclieur, Relieur du Roy, et Libraire en ceste Ville de Paris, demourant sur le Pont S. Michel, a Lanseigne de la Roze blanche." — " The Works of Hugues Salel, Valet de Chambre in ordinary to the King. Imprinted by Commandment of the said Lord. With Privilege for six Years. Imprinted at Paris, by Stephen Roifet, called the Mower, Binder to the King, and Bookseller in this Town of Paris, abiding on the Bridge Samt Michael, at the Sign of the "V\liite Rose." There is no date except in manu- script at the bottom of the page, which imports it to have been printed in the year 1539. Whoever wishes to preserve his character as a bibliomaniac (so they have termed it of late years,) will go no further than this. They who can pluck up a good courage, and are not afraid of the more odious name to which they may subject themselves by pursuing the quest, will venture onwards. The first poem then, or the first prey for the worms, whichsoever we shall term it, in this collection, is " a Royal Chase, that containeth the taking of the wild Boar Discord, by the very high and very potent Pruices, the Emperor Charles the Fifth, and the King Francis, the First of this Name." " Chasse Royalle, contenant la prise du Sanglier Dis- cord, par tres haultz et tres puissans Princes I'Em- pereur Charles Cinquiesme,et leRoy FranQoys, premier de ce Nom." France and Spain being in a state of perfect peace and happiness, all the Gods receive due 42 EAULY FRENCH POETS. homage from mortals, except Mars ; who, enraged at the neglect, descends to the lower regions, and brings up the wild boar Discord to earth. Charles V. and Francis I. unite to hunt down the monster, whose defeat, with the help of other European princes, they soon accomplish. This is a slight sketch, and some- what pedantic ; but I should say that it was filled up with much spirit. In the Marine Eclogue on the death of the Dau- phin Frangois de Valois, there are some verses of remarkable sweetness, which remmd me of Lydgate. The Punishment of Cupid is another poem in which the materials, though very slender, are wrought up with a certain portion of elegance and fancy. The following song may be considered as a testi- mony on the long-pending suit with respect to the song of the Nightingale. En passant par ung loys, et regrettant Marguerite. Rossignolz qui faictes merveilles, De jerg-onner pas ces verdz boys, Ne remplissez plus mes aureilles De si doulce et plaisante voix, Puis que voyez que je men voys Au lieu ou joye est endormie, Chantez s'il vous plaist cette fois Le triste depart de m'amye. F. 50. Ye nightingales, whose voice divine Thrills out these greenwood glades among, HUGUES SALEL, 43 Oh ! fill no more these ears of mine "With such a sweet and pleasant song. Ye see the way I now am wending, Unto a place whence joy is flown ; Then but for once a sad note lending", Sing, an ye will, my mistress gone. Like most of his brethren, he celebrates the " green eyes" of his mistress : — Marguerite aux yeulx rians et verds. F. 53. The " laughing eyes" would be too bold an expres- sion for a Frenchman now-a-days ; and accordingly one of them, who met with it in translating Dante, — Ond 'ellapronta e con occhi ridenti. Par. C. 3. has translated it, — L'ombre me repondit d'un air satisfait. There are some more poems by Salel, printed at the end of the "Amours d'01i\-ier de Magny," of which I shall speak presently. The most remarkable amongst them are three Chapitres d' Amour (as they are called), in which he uses the Italian measure called the Terza Rima. It was adopted by some of our writers in Henry VIII. and Elizabeth's time, as Sir Thomas Wyatt, Sir Frs. Bryan, Sir Pliilip Sydney ; and afterwards by Milton, in his version of the second Psalm. Yet Mr. Hayley supposed that he was the first to introduce it into our language, in that spirited translation of the first three cantos of Dante, which 44 EARLY FRENCH POETS. he inserted in the notes to his Essay on Epic Poetry ; and Lord Byron, when he adopted it in a late poem called the Vision of Dante, was not aware of Mr. Hayley's mistake. At the command of Francis I. Salel undertook to translate the Iliad, but did not proceed further than the beginning of the thirteenth book. By a preface to the eleventh and twelfth books, and a fragment of the thirteenth, edited after his death by Olivier de Magny, it seems he was accused of having made use of a Latin version instead of the original Greek. " But I was his amanuensis," adds Magny, " and can with truth bear witness to the contrary." Whether it was made from the Latin or the Greek, his translation is but a lame one. It is curious to see how he has contrived to strip the moonhght landscape at the end of the eighth book, of more than half its splendour. Ettout ainsi que Ion peult voir souvent, En temps serain, pres de la lune claire, Les corps du ciel (car ung chascun esclaire Tant que les montz, les vallees et plaines Sont de lumiere aiusi qu'en beau jour pleines). Dont le berger que sa veue en haut jette, Se resjouit en sa basse logette. But there is another extreme. All my readers remember Pope's version of this, — As when the moon, resplendent lamp of night, &c. HUGUES SALEL. 45 and if they have not yet seen Mr. Coleridge's observa- tions upon it in his Biographia Literaria, vol. i. p. 39, I would recommend them to their notice. In another famous simile, that in the fifth book, of the clouds amassed on the mountain tops by Jove, his anxiety that all should be well understood has caused him to make strange work of these ciunulostrati. Ainsi que les nues Sont bien souvent sur les montz retenues Maulgre les ventz, par le dieu Juppiter, Que ne pourroient aultrement resister Au soufflement, et tourbillou divers Du vent de uort qui leur donne a travers ; Semblablement, &c. But this is quite enough of his Homer. Hugues Salel, of Casale in Querci, was bom about the year 1508. Quercy, Salel, de toi se vantera; Et (comme croy) de moi ne se taira : are Marot's words to him in the Epigram on the French poets, to which I have referred in the accoimt of that writer. " Querci will boast itself in thee, Salel ; and, as I think, will not pass my name in silence." Ronsard esteemed him one of the first who began to write well in France. Besides the other marks of favour which he 46 EAELY FRENCH POETS. received from the open-hearted Francis I. he was presented by that monarch with the abbey of Saint Cheron, near Chartres ; where he died in the year 1558.* OLIVIER DE MAGNY. The first production I have met with from the pen of Olivier de Magny, is entitled Les Amours d' Oli- vier de Magny, Quercinois, et quelques Odes de lui. Ensemble mi recueil d'aucmies Oeuvres de Mon- sieur Salel, Abbe de Saint Cheron, non encore veues. A Paris. Vincent Sartenan, 1553, 8vo. In this col- lection, Magny' s sonnets (in the common or ten syllable measure) are in the taste of the Italian Pe- trarchisti, or imitators of Petrarch. In some of the odes there is more nature. That on a nosegay presented to him by Castianira (F. 5(5), has a pecuhar vivacity and richness, and is very much in Ben Jon- son's way. His next work is Les Gayetez d'Oliner de Magny a Pierre Paschal, Gentilhomme du Bas Pais de Lan- guedoc, * Salel's birth is dated about 1504, his death in 1553, by the editor of " Choix des Poesies de P. de Ron- sard, &c." 12mo. Par. 1826, p. 79. OLIVIER DE MAGNY. 47 Non tamen est facinus moUes evolvere versus, Multa licet caste non facienda legant. A Paris, pour Jean Dallier, 1554, Svo. There is much ease in these trifles. If I were to select one of the most pleasing, it would he that to Cory don, Ronsard's servant, which gives an engaguig picture of that poet's manner of life. Et s'il vault avec la brigade S'en aller aux champs quelque fois, Va t'en par la proche bourgade Choisir le meilleur vin Francois; Puis sur le bords d'une fontaine A I'ombre de quelque aubespin, Aporte la bouteille pleine Pour luy faire prendre son vin. (The leaves are not paged in this book.) And if he with his troop repair Sometimes into the fields, Seek thou the village nigh, and there Choose the best wine it yields. Then by a fountain's mossy side, O'er which some hawthorn bends, Be the full flask by thee supplied To cheer bim and his friends. We shall be reminded of the hawthorn, when we come to Ronsard liimself. These poets seem to have enjoyed nature with an imceremonious gaiety and frankness of heart, not known to their successors in the days of Louis XIV. 48 EARLY FRENCH POETS. The last publication, I have seen, of Olivier de Magny, is called Les Soupirs. Paris. Par Jean DalUer, 1557. 8vo. These Sighs vent themselves in a hundred and seventy-six sonnets, some of which, fortvmately, are anything but dolorous ; as may be seen by the follow- ing :— Sonnet 123. Sus, leva les papiers, descharge m'en la table, Et nem'en monstre aucun, Batylle, d'aujourd'huy, Car je ne veulx rien voir qui puisse faire ennuy, Et ne veulx faire rien qui ne soit delectable. Ce jourd'huy me soit feste et non point jour ouvrable. Mon Cassin est venu, et pour 1' amour de luy, Je veulx prendre mon aise, et m'esloigTier d'autruy Pour avecques luy seul I'avoir plus agreable. Je veulx donner un peu de tresve a mon amour, Je veulx decraye blanche aussi marquer ce jour, Et ne veulx invoquer que le gay Pere libre. Je veulx rire et saulter comme un homme contant, Je veulx faire ung festin pour y boire d'autant, Et ne men cbault pas fort encor que je m'enyvre. Up ; sweep the papers off; the table clear : I will no more of these, good boy, to-day. All trouble shall be held awhile at bay, And nought but mirth and pleasure shall come near. For see, my friend, my dearest Cassin here : This is a festal and no working day : OLIVIER DE MAGNY. 49 Bid each intruder hence ; we will be g'ay Tog-ether, and alone make joyous cheer. I wiU with Love himself a brief truce keep : I will with white chalk score this day for g-ladness ; I will to Bacchus only homage pay ; Yea, I Avill laugh and leap and dance away, And drain at last the brimming bowl so deep, I care not if it end in merry madness. It has been observed by Johnson, that in Milton's mirth there is some melancholy. In Masrnv's me- lancholy there is certainly much mirth. He does not seem to have been made for sighing. Yet it might have been enough to make him do so, if he could have known that in so short a time his country- men would no longer think him worthy of a place in their voluminous works of biography.* This must be my excuse for ha"ving nothing to tell either of his birth, his fortunes, or his decease. He was of Querci. His verses bespeak him to have been a good soul, free from emy and ill-nature ; and he was prized ac- cordingly by the wits of his age. Be this his record. * There is a notice of Olivier de Magny in the " Choix des Poesies de P. de Ronsard," &c. 12mo. Par. 1826, p. 136. £ 50 EARLY FRENCH POETS. JOACHIM DU BELLAY. Bellay ! first garland of free poesy That France brought forth, though fruitful of brave wits ; Well worthy thou of immortality, That long hast travel'd by thy learned writs, Old Rome out of her ashes to revive, And give a second life to dead decays ; Needs must he all eternity survive, That can to others give eternal days. Thy days, therefore, are endless ; and thy praise Excelling all that ever went before. Such is the encomium which Spenser annexes to his translation of The Ruines of Rome, by Bellay. It is somewhat too lofty for the occasion ; and is made of less value, by being coupled with the praise of Bartas, whose Muse has not much right to the epi- thet bestowed on her in the ensmng hues ; except it be for the subject of wliich she treats. And after thee 'gins Bartas hie to raise His heavenly Muse, th' Almighty to adore. Live, haj^py spirits ! th' honour of your name, And fill the world with never dying fame. Yet this honom'able testimony from the author of the Faery-Queene, who has still more distinguished the subject of it by translatmg several of his poems, secures for Joachim du Bellay undeniable claims to attention and deference from an English reader. JOACHIM DU BELLAY. 51 When, indeed, we consider, that not only the boast of Eliza's days dipped his plumes in the Gallic Hip- pocrene, but that the Father of English poetry used to refresh himself largely at the same fountain, we cannot look upon it but as a source of hallowed waters. In the Defence and Illustration of the French lan- guage,* a judicious and well-written treatise, to which I have more than once had occasion to refer, Bellay betrays a want of reverence for his predecessors, which has been amply retaliated by posterity on his own age. Of all the ancient French poets, he observes, that Guillaume de Lorris and Jean de Meun are almost the only authors worth reading ; and that, not because there is much in them that deserves imitation, but for that first image, as it were, which they pre- sent of the French language, made venerable by its antiquity. He adds, that the more recent were those named by Clement Marot, in his Epigram to Hugues Salel ; and that Jan le Maire de Beiges seemed to him the first who had illustrated the French lan- guage ; by which he explains himself to mean, that he imparted to it many poetical words and phrases, of which the most excellent writers of his own time had availed themselves. f Most of these, I doubt, have since been thrown away by the purists. * Oeuvres de Joachim du Bellay. Paris edition in 12mo. about 1568. f L. ii. oh. 2. 52 EARLY FRENCH POETS, He speaks of "vers libres," unfettered verse; such, he says, as had been used by Petrarch, and by Luigi Alamanni in his not less learned than pleasant poem on Agriculture.* Alamanni indeed, who during his retreat from Florence had experienced the liberality and protection of Francis I. and who was pro- bably known to Bellay at the court of that monarch, had written his Coltivazione in blank verse ; and some, though without sufficient groimd for the assertion, have pronoimced him to be the first who employed it in a long poem. But that Petrarch ever wrote Italian poetry without rhyme, or that he ever mingled versi sciolti, or blank verse, in his compositions, as Boccac- cio is observed to have done, I am not aware that any other critic has asserted. While I am on this subject, let me remark, that it is to the ItaUans we owe our blank verse ; and that the two books of the ,^neid, in the translating of which it is believed to have been first introduced amongst us by Surrey, were about the same time translated into ItaUan blank verse ; the second book by the Cardinal Ippolito de Medici, and the fourth by Lodovico Martelli. Bellay would not have the alternation of male and female rhjTues too strictly adhered to. This was a meritorious though unsuccessful attempt to deliver * L. ii. ch. 7. JOACHIM DU BELLAY. 53 the French verse from one of its most galling fetters.* — Like Ronsard, he advises the frequenting persons of all different handicrafts, in order to collect terms, and to deduce comparisons and descriptions. f Amongst the French writers, are adduced by way of distinction, Guillaume Bude and Lazare de Baif, the latter of whom had translated the Electra of Sophocles, almost line for line, " quasi vers par vers. "if But to come to his Poems. His OUve is a collec- tion of one hundred and fifteen sonnets, nearly all of them, excepting a few of the last, on the subject of his love, which he shadows forth under the figure of that tree, as Petrarch had done his mider that of a laurel. The word itself is an anagram of Viole, the real name of the lady whom he celebrates, and who was an inhabitant of Angers. In the twenty-eighth is found the sentiment in a common, but very pretty French song, which the imfortunate Major Andre was fond of applying to his Honora. I write it from memory, having never seen it in print : — Ah ! si vous pouviez comprendre Ce que je ressens pour vous ; L'amour n'a rien de si tendre, Ni I'amitie de si doux. * Oeuvres de Joachim du Bellay. Paris edition iu l-3mo. about 1588 ; ch. 9. t Ibid. ch. 11. : Ibid. ch. 12. 54 EARLY FRENCH POETS. Loin de vous mon cceur soupire, Pres de vous suis interdit : Voila tout ce que j'ose dire, Et peutetrej'ai trop dit. Bellay has it : — Ce que je sens, la langue ne refuse Vous descouvrir quand suis de vous absent ; Mais tout soudain que pres de moy vous sent, EUe devient et muette et confuse. We have, I believe, an English song, in which the same natural feeling is expressed ; but I am not able to recollect the words of it. The sixtieth sonnet is to Ronsard, whom he has addressed in several of his poems. When we come to that poet, we shall again have occasion to admire the nobleness of his mind, as displayed in his conduct towards Bellay. The ninety-first is on the same subject as an Italian one by Bernardino Tomitano, a physician and pub- lic professor of logic at Padua ; he died a few years later than Bellay (in 1576). It is, therefore, not easy to say which of the two has the merit of being ori- ginal ; perhaps neither of them : — but the French- man's production has, I think, more the air of a copy. Here are the two. Rendez a For ceste couleur qui dore ' Ces blonds cheveux, rendez mille autres choses, JOACHIM DU BELLAY. 5o A I'orient tant de perles encloses, Et au soleil ces beaux yeux que j'adore, Rendez ces mains au blanc j^oire encore, Ce sein au marbre, et ces levres aux roses, Ces doux souspirs aux fleurettes decloses, Et ce beau tain a la vermeille Aurore. Rendez aussi a I'Amour tous ces traits, Et a Venus ses graces et attraits ; Rendez aux cieux leur celeste harmouie. Rendez encor' ce doux nom a son arbre, Ou aux rocbers rendez ce coeur de marbre, Et aux lyons cett' humble felonie. Sonetto di Bernardino Tomitano. L'alto chiaro immortal vivo splendore Ch'e ne' vostr' occhj e nel sereno viso, Donna, rendete al sole, e al paradiso I pensier casti e'l suo natio valore. Rendete a me la libertate e'l core Che da me avete si lontan diviso, A Cipri bella il bel soave riso, L'arco e gli strali al mio awersario amore. De le soavi angeliche parole La soave armonia rendete al cielo : L'odor, I'oro, le perle a I'oriente : Ch'altro non sara in voi, che I'ira sola Co' vostri fieri sdegni, che sovente Mi fan d'uom vivo adamantino g'elo. Parnaso Italiano, Lirici viisti del Secolo xvi. — Ven. 1787,/?. 360. 56 EARLY FRENCH POETS. Yield to the spheres thy witching' strain* That from their orbs has roU'd. To eastern climes return again Their fragrance, jiearls, and gold. Be to the sun that brightness given, Thou borrow'st from this flame : And render back thy smile to heaven, From whence its sweetness came. Owe to the morn thy blush no more, Which from her cheek has flown. To seraph bands their truth restore, Her chasteness to the moon. What then shall of those charms remain, Which thou dost call thine own ; Except the pride and cold disdain That turn thy slave to stone. There is one by Olivier de Magny on the same subject. It is the 1 72nd in his Soupirs, and begins — Vos celestes beautes, dame, rendez aux cieux, &c. For an EngKsh imitation, I must refer to the last volume of the London Magazine, (1821) p. 411. The ninety-sixth, which begins — Ny par les bois les Dryades courantes, Ny par les champs les fiers scadrons armes, Ny par les flots les grands vaisseaux rames, &c. * This imitation of the above Sonnet was not printed in the original article. The author has left a memo- randum that it should be inserted. — Ed. JOACHIM DU BELLAY. 57 is certainly borrowed from an old Italian sonnet by Guido Cavalcanti ; wbich is inserted, together with a version of it by a late translator of Dante, in his notes to the eleventh canto of the Purgatory. Somiet nuiety-seven, beginning — Qui a peu voir la matinale rose, is from Catullus and Ariosto, in passages too well known to be cited. Those in Sophocles, — To yap veci^oy ev rotolirce /Boff/cerai Xw(3ot(Ti>' avTOV' Kcu VIP ov ^ciXttoc Qeoii, Ovh' onftpoQ, ovIe TTvevnaTOJV ovSey kXovcI, 'AXX' r]Eova7£ ayuoj^S^ov t^alpei fiioyt 'Eg Toils'', fwc Tig arri TrapBivov yvvri K\j]^. Track. 144. and in IMarino's Adone, Quasi rosa fra fior ch'in fresca sponda Ferma il sol, molce I'aura e nutre Fonda. C. xi. St. 62. are less obvious. All the sonnets in the Olive are, I beUeve, in the " vers commmi," the ten syllable verse ; which is more agreeable to an English ear than the Alexan- drine. The pause, as usual, is on the fourth syllable ; as is generally the case in our own Surrey. Of his other sonnets, there are some in each of these mea- sures. Not one of the old French poets that I have yet 58 EAKLY FRENCH POETS. seen appears so much at home amongst the ItaUans, for whom, in the fourth ode of his Recueil, he tes- tifies his warm admiration. Quel siecle etiendra ta memoire O Boccace ? et quels durs hyvers Pourront jamais seicher la gloire, Petrarque, de tes lauriers vers ? Qui verra la vostre muette, Dante, Bembe, a I'esprit liautain ? Ode 4, f. 135. " What age shall extinguish the remembrance of thee, Boccaccio ? and what hard winters, O Petrarch ! shall wither the glory of thy green laurels 1 Who, Dante and Bembo, of proud and lofty spirit, shall see your memory fade ?" Yet he laments most hitterly the engagements which compelled him to reside in Italy, and to put on a false appearance which he abhorred ; and he longs to be again his own master, and to return to his own land. In the Regrets, where these feelings are expressed, there is much ease and nature. Some of the poems under that title exhibit Uvely pictures of the corruptions then prevalent in the several Italian courts, and especially at Rome. His talent for satire here shews itself. What in this way can exceed the following sonnet on Venice ? II fait bon voir, Magny, ces colons magnifiques, Leur superbe arsenal, leurs vaisseaux, leur abord. JOACHIM DU BELLAY. 69 Leur S. Marc, leur palais, leur Realte, leur Port, Leurs changes, leurs profits, leur banque, et leurs trafiques, II fait bon voir le bee de leurs cbaprons antiques, Leurs robes a grand' manche, et leurs bonnets sans bord, Leur parler tout grossier, leur gravite, leur port, Et leurs sages advis aux affaires publiques. II fait bon voir de tout leur Senat balloter : II fait bon voir par tout leurs gondoUes flotter. Leurs femmes, leurs festins, leur vivre solitaire : Mais ce que I'on en doit le meilleur estimer, C'est quand ces vieux cocus vont espouser la mer, Dont ils sont les maris et le Turc I'adultere. Sonnet 115, f. 414. It dotb one good to see tliese Magnificoes, These proud poltroons ; their gorgeous arsenal ; Their roads o'erthrong'd with vessels ; their Saint Mark ; Their Palace ; their Rialto, and their Port ; Their Bank, their traffic ; their Exchange, their bart'ring : To see their antique hats with formal beak ; Their broad-sleeved mantles, and their unbrimm'd bonnets : It doth one good to mark their uncouth jabb'ring ; Their gravity ; their port ; their sage advice On public questions ; yea, it doth one good To see their senate balloting on each thing ; In every port their gondolas afloat ; Their dames ; their masquing, and their lonely living. But the best sight of all is to behold When these old wittols go to wed the sea, Whose spouses they are, and the Turk her leman. 60 EARLY FRENCH POETS. The 151st sonnet. To Courtiers, is another that is remarkable for its mixture of sprightliness, drollery, and caustic humour. England came in for a large portion of his gall. At f. 189, is a poem called Execration sur I'Angleterre ; but in his Regrets (sonnet 162) it appears that he had been softened towards this country. Of his Voeux Rustiques, imitated from the Latin of Navagero, the following is no unfavourable speci- men. D'mw Vanneur de ble aiix vents. A vous trouppe legere, Qui d'aile passagere Par le monde volez, Et d'un sifflant murmure L'ombrageuse verdure Doucement esbranlez, J'offre ces violettes, Ces lis et ces fleurettes, Et ces roses icy Ces vermeillettes roses, Tout frescbement eclauses, Et ces oeillets aussi. De vostre douce haleine Evantez ceste pleine, Evantez ce sejour : Cependant que j'ahanne A mon ble, que je vanne A la chaleur du jour. F. 444. JOACHIM DU BELLAY. 61 The original is in the taste of the Greek eTnypcin^ura, of which no one knew the rehsh better than Navagero. Aurie qu8e levibus percurritis aera pennis, Et strepitis blando per nemora alta sono ; Serta dat hsec vobis, vobis hcec rusticus Idmon Spargit odorato plena canistra croco. Vos lenite sestum, et paleas sejungite inanes, Dum medio fruges ventilat ille die. This has been made a sonnet of by Lodo\ico Paterno ; and a fine one it is : — Aure, O Aure ! cbe'l ciel nudo e sereno Cingete con le piume innamorate, E fra le selve dolce mormorate, Spargendo i sonni alle fresch 'ombre in seno : Queste gbirlande, e questo vaso pieno D'amomo e croco, e questi d'odorate Viole ampi canestri a vol sacrate Vi sparge Icon, cbe'l mezzo di vien meno. Voi I'arsura temprate omai cbe I'onde E I'aria e i campi d'ogn' intorno accende E mostra le sue forze ad ogni parte : Ei mentre a ventilar le biade attende, E rocamente al suon Eco risponde, Scacciate voi le paglie a parte a parte. Componimenti Lirici scelti da T. J. Mathias, T. iii.p. 249. I wish I had something worthier to be put by the side of these, than the attempt which is here offered to my reader. 62 EARLY FRENCH POETS. Ye airs ! sweet airs, that throug-li the naked sky- Fan your aurelian wings in wanton play ; Or shedding quiet slumber, as ye fly, 'Mid the dim forest murmuring urge your way ; To you these garlands, and this basket high Pil'd up with lily-bells and roses gay, And fragrant violets of purplest dye. Icon, all fainting in the noontide ray, Scatters, a votive ofi"ering to your power : And O ! as ye receive the balmy spoil. Temper the inclement beam ; and while his flail He plies unceasing through the sultry hour, Hoarse Echo answering ever to his toil, Dispel the parted chaff with brisker gale. But to return to Bellay. His epitaphs on a little dog, on a cat, and on the Abbe Bonnet, are exqui- sitely droll and fantastic. In his hymn De la Surdite, a whimsical encomium on Deafness, addressed to his friend Ronsard, there is some very striking imagery. Je te salue O saincte et alme surdite, Qui pour trone et palais de ta grand' majeste T'es cave bien avant sous une roche dure, Un autre tapisse de mousse et de verdure ; Faisant d'un fort hallier son effroyable tour, Oil les cheutes du Nil tempestent a I'entour. La se voit le silence assis a la main dextre, Le doigt dessus la levre, assise a la senestre Est la melancolie au sour§il enfonse : JOACHIM DU BELLAY. 63 L'estude tenant I'oeil sur le livre abbaisse Se sied un peu plus bas, I'Ame imaginative, Les yeux levez au ciel, se tient contemplative Debout devant ta face ; et la dedans le rond D'un grand miroir d'acier te fait voir jusqu'au fond Tout ce qui est au ciel, sur la terre, et sous I'onde, Et ce qui est cache sous la terre profonde ; Le grave Jugement dort dessus ton giron, Et le Discours ailez volent a 1' environ. {F. 501.) Hail to thee, Deafaess, boon and holy power, Thou that hast scoop'd thee out an ample bower "Within a hard rock where thy throne is seen, Hung round with tapestry of mossy green, The stony tower, embattled, guards thy state. And Nile's steep falls are thundering at the gate. There Silence on thy right hand still doth sit, His finger on his lips ; and in a fit Of tranced sorrow. Melancholy lost. Upon thy left, like a for-pined ghost. A little lower, Study bends his look For ever glu'd upon his wide-spread book. Before thee, rapt Imagination stands. With brow to heaven uplifted, while her hands Present to thee a mirror of broad steel. That in its depth all wonders doth reveal, Of sky, and air, and earth, and the wide ocean ; All things that are, whether in rest or motion. Grave Judgment on thy lap, in sleep profound Is laid J and winged words flit hovering round. 64 EARLY FKENCH POETS. His advice to the young king, Francis the Second, on his accession to the crown, is remarkable for its freedom. The poets of those times seem to have kept firm hold on one of the most valuable privileges of their profession, and not to have srnik the monitor in the courtier. — Of the poems which Spenser trans- lated from Bellay, the following Sonnet is rendered with a fidelity that has not in the least injured its spirit. I have selected it as the best of those which he has taken. Sur la croppe d'un mont je vis una fabrique De cent brasses de baut : cent colonnes d'un rond, Toutes de diamans ornoyent le brave front, Et la facon de I'oeuvre estoit a la Dorique, La muraille n'estoit de marbre ni de brique, Mais d'un luisant cristal, qui du sommet au fond, Elangoit mile rais de son ventre profond, Sur cent degrez dorez du plus fin or d'Afrique. D'or estoit le lambris, et le sommet encor Reluisoit escaille de grandes lames d'or : Le pave fut de jaspe, et d'esmauraude fine. O vanite du monde ! un soudain tremblement Faisant crouler du mont la plus basse racine, Renverse ce beau lieu depuis le fondement. {Edit. Rouen, 1597, fo. 391.) On bigb bill's top I saw a stately frame, An hundred cubits bigb by just assize, With hundred pillars fronting fair the same. All wrought with diamond, after Dorick wise ; JOACHIM DU BELLAY. 65 Nor brick nor marble was the wall to view, But shining crystal, which from top to base Out of her womb a thousand rayons threw, One hundred steps of Afrio gold's enchase : Gold was the parget ; and the ceiling bright Did shine all scaly, with great plates of gold ; The floor of jasp and emerald was dight. O ! world's vainness ! whiles thus I did behold. An earthquake shook the hill from lowest seat. And overthrew this frame with ruine great. {The Visions of Bellay, 2.) Joachim du Bellay, descended from one of the noblest families in Anjou, was bom at Lire, a village eight miles from Angers, in the year 1524. The facility and sweetness yAxh. which he wTote, gained him the appellation of the French 0\'id. He was highly esteemed by Margaret of Valois, Queen of Navarre, and by Henry the Second, who granted him a considerable pension. He passed some years in Italy, whither he went in the suite of his kinsman. Cardinal du Bellay. We have seen how ill he was pleased with that country, and yet how much he learned from it. Another of his family, Eustache du Bellay, Bishop of Paris, obtained for him in 1555, a canonry in his church. He was carried off at an early age by a fit of apoplexy, in January, 15G0 ; and was buried in the church of Notre Dame. Many epitaphs were made for him, in which he F 66 EARLY FRENCH POETS. was called Pater Elegantlarum ; Pater Omnium Leporum. He wrote Latin Poems that are not so much esteemed as his French. REMY BELLEAU. The Painter of Nature was the appellation which distinguished Remy Belleau among the poets of his time ; and it is enough to obtain for him no ordinary share of regard from those who know how much is implied in that title, and how rare that merit is of which it may be considered as a pledge. I have not yet had the good fortune to meet with an edition containing the whole of his works. That which I have seen was printed during his life-time, with the following title : Les Amours et nouveaux Eschanges des Pierres precieuses ; Vertus et Proprietez d'icelles. Discours de la Vanite, Pris de I'Ecclesiaste. Eclogues Sacrees, Prises du Cantique des Cantiques. Par Remy Belleau. A Paris par Mamert Patisson, au logis de Rob. Estienne, 1576, avec pri\ilege du Roy. "The Loves and new Transformations of the Precious Stones ; their Virtues and Properties. Discourse on Vanity, taken from Ecclesiastes. Sacred Eclogues, taken from the Song of Songs, &c." There is REMY BELLE AU. 67 in these sufficient to prove that Belleau was not in the habit of looking at nature through the eyes of other men ; that he did not content himself vrith making copies of copies ; but that he drew from the life, whenever he had such objects to describe as the visible world could supply him with. Nor is this the whole of his praise ; for he has also some fancy, and a flow of numbers unusually melodious. In the above collection, the first poem, on the Loves and Transformations of the Precious Stones, dedicated to Henry III., is on a plan not much more happy than that of Darwin's Loves of the Plants. Several of them are supposed to have been youths or maidens, who, in consequence of adventures similar to those invented by the poet of the Metamorphoses, were changed into their present shape. Thus, in the first of these tales, the nymph Amethyste, of whom Bacchus is enamoured, prays to Diana for succour, and by her is transformed into a stone, which the god dyes piirple with the juice of the grape. A description, which he has here introduced of the jolly god with the Bacchantes in different attitudes about his chariot, is executed with a luxuriance of pencil that reminds one of Rubens. D'un pie prompt et legier, ces foUes Bassarides Environnent le char, I'une se pend aux brides Des onces mouchettez d'estoiles sur le dos, Onces a I'oeil subtil, au pie souple et dispos, 68 EAKLY FRENCH POETS. Au muffle herisse de deux longues moustaches : L'autre met dextrement les tiOTes aux attaches Tizonnez sur la j^eau, les couple deux-a-deux, lis ronflent de colere, et -vont rouillant les yeux : D'un fin drap d'or frise seme de perles fines Les couvre jusqu'au flanc, les houpes a crepines Flottent sur le genou ; plus humbles devenus On agence leur queiie en tortillons menus. {F. 4.) A train of Mfenads wanton'd round the car With light and frolic step : one on the reins Hung of the ounces speckled o'er with stars, Of eye quick-glancing, and free supple foot, The long mustaches bristling from their maws : Another with quick hand the traces flung Across the tygers of the streaky skin : They yoked in pairs went snorting, and with ire Their restless eye-balls roU'd. Fine cloth of gold. Sown o'er with pearls, hung mantling to their side. And at the knee the tassel'd fringes danced. Then, as their pride abated, in quaint curls They braid their wavy tails. As a companion to this, I would place the fine pic- ture of Cybele's chariot drawn by lions, as Keats has painted it. Forth from a rugged arch, in the dusk below, Came mother Cybele ; alone, alone. In sombre chariot ; dark foldings thrown About her majesty, and front death -pale. With turrets crown'd. Four maned lions hale REMY BELLEAU. 69 The slusrsrish wheels ; solemn their toothed maws, Their surly eyes brow-hidden, heavy paws Uplifted drowsily, and nervy tails Cowering their ta^my brushes. {Endymion, p. 83.) In this pictorial manner, there is an anomTnous poem of extraordinary merit, which, I believe, appeared first in the New Monthly Magazine. It is called the Indian Circian. The writer of it, whoever he may be, may well aspire to the title of the Painter of Natvire. To return to Belleau. Another of these httle stories is built on the fable of Hyacinthus, whose blood, when he is killed by Apollo, forms the jacinth, at the same time that the nymph Chrysolithe, who had requited his offered love with scorn, poisons her- self, and is changed into the stone bearing her name. The spot in which the boy meets his fate, when he is playing at quoits with Phoebus, is a piece of land- scape-painting, sweetly touched. Iris being sent on one of her mistress's errands, stays to refresh herself by the river Indus, where she sees and becomes enamoured of Opalle ; Opalle, grand Berger des troupeaux de Neptune. (i^.27.) " Great Shepherd that on Neptune's flocks did tend." He is dazzled and overpowered by the advances of /O EARLY FRENCH POETS. the wind-footed goddess, and falls into a swoon ; but is recovered out of it. Juno, meantime, being enraged at the delay of her handmaid, goes in search of her, and discovers them together. He is changed into a stone, of which Iris makes the opal. While Venus hes asleep. Love, fluttering about her, sees his own image reflected on the polished sur- face of her nails. He sets himself to carve out these mirrors with the point of one of his darts, while she continues in her slumber ; and then flying off with them, he lets them fall " on the pearl'd sands Of tawny Indus with the crisped locks.'' ■ sur le sable perleux De I'Indois basane sous ses crespes cheveux ; where they are changed into onyx-stones. To these fanciful Tales are appended directions for distinguisliing artificial stones from the true, together with some remarks on their medical properties, and their uses against incantations and sorceries. It scarcely need be told how bad an effect so incon- gruous a mixture produces. When Belleau made this addition, it is probable that the Greek poem on Precious Stones, which goes under the name of Orpheus, was in his view. In addressing the twelve chapters of his Discourse on Vanity, taken from Ecclesiastes, to Monseigneur KEMY BELLEAU. 71 (the Duke d'Alengon), he tells that prince that his brother (the late King, Charles IX.) being at Fon- tainebleau, was so much pleased with it, that he had made him read over the first four chapters several times ; that the King's death, and a grievous malady under which he had himself laboured, had inter- rupted his design ; " but now being recovered," says he, " I present this work to you." This was in July, 1576. Having tuned the verses well, he has done nearly all that could be expected of him in this task. Much the same may be said of the Sacred Eclogues, into which he has formed the Song of Songs. Profaner love employed his muse at another time ; for he translated the poems attributed to Anacreon, which were then newly discovered, into French verse. Among his other poems, is the following Song on April : havuig seen it much commended in the accounts given of this poet by French writers of the present day, I have obtained a transcript of it from a public library in this comitry. If we compare it with Spenser's Song in the Shepherd's Calendar, April, we shall find some slight resemblance in the measure, which would induce one to imagine that Colin, though he calls it a lay. Which once lie made as by a spring he lay, And tuned it unto the water's fall, 72 EARLY FRENCH POETS. had yet some snatches of this melody floating in his ear, which mingled themselves with the wilder music. Avril, I'honneur et des bois, Et des mois : Avril, la douce esperance Des fruicts qui sous le coton Du bouton Nourrissent leur jeune enfance. Avril, I'honneur des prez verds, Jaunes, pers, Qui d'une humeur big-arree Emaillant de mille fleurs De couleurs, Leur parure diapree. Avril, I'honneur des soupirs Des Zephyrs, Qui sous le vent de leur selle Dressent encore es forests Des doux rets, Pour ravir Flore la belle. Avril, c'est ta douce main, Qui du sein De la nature desserre Une moisson de senteurs, Et de fleurs, Embasmant I'Air, et la Terre. KEMY BELLEAU. 73 Avril, I'honneur verdissant, Florissant Sur les tresses blondelettes De ma Dame, et de son sein, Tousjours plein De mille et mille fleurettes. Avril, la grace, etle ris De Cypris, Le flair et la douce haleine : Avril, le parfum des Dieux, Qui des Cieux Sentent I'odeur de laplaine. C'est toy courtois et gentil, Qui d'exil Retires ces passag-eres, Ces arondelles qui vont, Et qui sont Du printemps les messag'eres. L'aubespine et I'aiglantin, Et le thym, L'oeillet, le lis, et les roses En ceste belle saison, A foison, Monstrent leurs robes ecloses. Le g-entil rossignolet Doucelet, Decoupe dessous Fombrage, Mille fredons babillars, Fretillars, Au doux chant de son ramage. 74 EARLY FRENCH POETS. C'est a ton lieureux retour Que I'amour Souffle a dovicettes haleines, Un feu croupi et couvert, Que I'hyver Heceloit dedans nos veines. Tu vols en ce temps nouveau L'essain beau De ces pillardes avettes VoUeter de fleur en fleur, Pour I'odeur Qu'ils mussent en leurs cuissettes. May vantera ses fraisclieurs, Ses fruicts meurs, Et sa feconde rosee, La manne et le sucre doux, Le miel roux, Dont sa grace est arrosee. Maismoy je donne mavoix A ce mois, Qui prend le surnom de celle Qui de I'escumeuse mer Veit germer Sa naissance maternelle. {Les Oeuvres Poet'ujucs de Remy Bellcati, 2 Tomes. Paris, 1585, La Premiere Journee de la Bergcrie, p. 12G.) KEMY BELLEAIJ. / O April, sweet month, the daintiest of all, Fair thee befal : April, fond hope of fruits that lie In buds of swathing cotton wrapt, There closely lapt. Nursing their tender infancy. April, that dost thy yellow, green, and blue, All round thee strew. When, as thou go'st, the grassy floor Is with a million flowers depeint, Whose colours quaint Have diaper'd the meadows o'er. April, at whose glad coming Zephyrs rise With whisper'd sighs. Then on their light wing brush away. And hang amid the woodlands fresh Their aery mesh To tangle Flora on her way. April, it is thy hand that doth unlock, From plain and rock. Odours and hues, a balmy store, That breathing lie on Nature's breast, So richly blest. That earth or heaven can ask no more. April, thy blooms, amid the tresses laid Of my sweet maid, Adown her neck and bosom flow; And in a wild profusion there, Her shining hair With them hath blent a golden glow. 7G EARLY FRENCH POETS. April, the dimi^led smiles, the j^Iayful grace, That in the face Of Cytherea haunt, are thine ; And thine the breath, that from their skies The deities Inhale, an offering' at thy shrine. Tis thou that dost with summons blithe and soft, Hig'h u]:) aloft, From banishment these heralds bring-. These swallows that along the air Scud swift, and bear Glad tidings of the merry spring. April, the hawthorn and the eglantine, Purple woodbine, Streak'd pink, and lily-cup, and rose, And thyme, and marjoram, are sjJreading, Where thou art treading, And their sweet eyes for thee unclose. The little nightingale sits singing aye On leafy spray, And in her fitful strain doth run A thousand and a thousand changes, With voice that ranges Through every sweet division. April, it is when thou dost come again, That love is fain With gentlest breath the fires to wake. That cover'd up and slumbering lay, Through many a day. When winter's chill our veins did slake. REMY BELLEAU. 7/ Sweet month, thou seest at this jocund prime Of the spring-time, The hives pour out their lusty jovnig, And hear'st the yellow bees that ply. With laden thigh, Murmuring the flowery wilds among. May shall with pomp his wavy wealth unfold, His fruits of gold, His fertilizing dews, that swell In manna on each spike and stem. And, like a gem, Red honey in the waxen cell. Who will may praise him ; but my voice shall be, Sweet month, for thee ; Thou that to her dost owe thy name, Who saw the sea-wave's foamy tide Swell and divide, Whence forth to life and light she came. Kemy Belleau was born at Nogent-le-Rotrou, in le Perche, 1528. Reue de Lorraine, Marquis of Elbeuf, and General of the French Gallies, committed to him the education of his son. He died in Paris, 1577. Some one said of him, in allusion to the first of his poems above-mentioned, that he was resolved to con- struct himself a monument of precious stones. Besides the editions of his works which I have referred to, there is said to be one printed at Rouen, 1604. 2 vols. 8vo. 78 EABLY FRENCH POETS. JAN ANTOINE DE BAIF. Both those, of whom I have last spoken, Bellay and Belleau, belonged to that cluster of poets, to which was given the name of the French Pleiad, lodelle, Thyard, Dorat, and Ronsard, were four others in this constellation ; and Jan Antoine de Baif made the seventh, whose lustre, if it were pro- portioned to the number of verses he has left, would outshine most of them. But as it is rather by the virtue than the bulk of such luminaries that we appreciate their excellence, he must be satisfied with an inferior place. The chief thing that can be said of him, I think, is that there is much ease in his manner. But this is not enough to carry us through so many books as I have to record the titles of under his name. It is said that no one has had the courage to read them all since his death. Les Amours de Jan Antoine de Baif. Paris. Pour Lucas Breyer, 1572. 2 vols. 8vo. There is what appears to be the same edition with his Passetems added. In the prefaratory address to the Duke of Anjou, afterwards Heniy III. he speaks of the French poets who have sung of love. They are Bellay, Thyard, Ilonsard, Belleau, to whom he says, JAN AXTOINE DE BAIF. / i) Belleau gentil, qui d'esquise peinture Soigneusement imites la nature, Tu consacras de tes vers la plus part De C}i;heree au petit fils mig-nard. ' Gentle Belleau, \^•ho dost diligently copy nature with exquisite painting, thou hast consecrated the greater part of thy verses to the darling child of Venus.' To these he adds Desportes. Of the four books of his Franciue (the name of his mistress), and of his three other books, Des Diverses Amours, there is very little by which I could hope to please my readers. They will, I doubt not, think the foUomng sonnet enough. TJn jour quand de l'y\-er I'ennuieuse froidure S'attedist, faisant place au printemps gracieux, Lors que tout rit aux champs, et que les prez joyeux, Peignent de belles fleurs leur riante verdure : Pres du Clain tortueus sous une roche obscure Un doux somme ferma d'un doux lien mes yeux, Voyci en mon dormant une clairte des cieux Venir I'ombre emflamer d'une lumiere pure. Voyci venir des cieux sous I'escorte d'Amour, Neuf nymphes qu'on eust dist estre toutes jumelles : En rond aupres de moy elles firent un tour. Quand I'une, me tendant de myrte un verd chapeau, Me dit : chante d' amour d'autres chansons nouvelles, Et tu pourras monter a nostre saint coupeau. 80 EARLY FRENCH POETS, On a day, as the winter, relaxing Ms spleen, Grewwarm and gave way to the frolicksome spring, When all laughs in the fields, and the gay meadows fling A shower of sweet buds o'er their mantle of green, 'Twas then in a cave by the wild crankling Clain I lay, and sleep shadow'd me o'er with his wing. When a lustre shone round, as some angel did bring A torch that its light from the sun-beams had ta'en ; And lo ! floating downwards, escorted by Love, Nine maids, who methought from one birth might have sprung ; And they circled around me and hover'd above, When one held forth a wreath of green myrtle inwove ; See, she cried, that of love some new ditty be sung, And with us thou shalt dwell in our heavenly grove. He has formed some of these pieces on the model of the Italian canzone, with an envoi at the end. Besides these are nine books which he calls simply his poems. In the concluding address to his book, he has given a portrait of himself. Another of his publications is, Les Jeux de Jan Antoine de Bai'f. Paris. Pour Lucas Breyer. 1573. 8vo. It contains nineteen Eclogues ; Antigone, translated from Sophocles ; two comedies, le Brave and I'Eunuque, the latter from Terence ; and Neuf Devis de Dieux pris de Lucian, nine Dialogues of the Gods, from Lucian. The Eclogues are, for the most part, taken from Theocritus or Virgil. They seem JAN ANTOINE DE BAIF. 81 to me among the most pleasing of his poems ; but are sometimes less decorous than one could vnsh. 'Etre'nes de Poe'zie Fransoeze an vers mezure's, &c. &c. par Jan Antoine de Baif. Denys du Val. 1574. 8vo. This is a whimsical attempt to imitate the heroic and lyrical measures of the ancients, and at the same time to introduce a new mode of ortho- graphy, accommodated to the real pronimciatiou. The book contains, besides a few odes, translations of the works and days of Hesiod, the golden verses of Pythagoras, the admonitory' poem that goes imder the name of Phocylides, and the Nuptial Advice of Naumachius. Of what he calls iambi(ces trimetres nokadases, the foUowng compliment to Belleau may be taken as a sample : — A toe/ Ki 8vrier peins le vre,, j an til Belea, Nature ^er^-ant Kontrefer an son naif, Ki restes des miens (companon plus ans'ien. " To thee, g-entle Belleau, artist that dost paint the truth, seeking- to counterfeit nature to the life, who remainest the oldest associate among my friends, &c." Some years before, Claudio Tolommei had en- deavoured to naturalize the ancient metres in the Italian tongue, but with no better success. Jan Antoine de Baif, the natural son of Lazare de Baif, Abbot of Grenetiere, was born in 1532, at G 82 EARLY FRENCH POETS. Venice, where his father was ambassador. He was much addicted to music ; and his concerts were attended by the kings Charles IX. and Henry III. I learn from a passage in Burney's History of Music (vol. iii. p. 263), referred to by Mr. AValker in his memoir on Italian Tragedy, Appendix, p. xix. that Baif usually set his own verses to music. The friendship which Ronsard entertained, for both him and Belleau, will appear in the account that will be given of that poet. He died in 1592. Cardinal du Perron said of him, that he was a very good man, and a very bad poet. We shall have occasion to estimate the Cardinal's own pretensions in this way. JAN DE LA PERUSE. The works of Jan de la Peruse, one of those con- temporary writers whom we shall see distinguished by Ronsard, were edited by Claude Binet, the affec- tionate friend of both. He has prefixed a preface to them, and added some verses of his own. The title of this book is, " Les Oeuvres de Jan de la Peruse, avec quelques autres diverscs Poesies de Claude Binet." A Lyon. Par BcnoistRigaud, 1.577. l6mo. The first poem is Medee, a tragedy. It is a mixture of twelve syllable verses ; the common verse, teu ; JAN DE LA PERUSE. 83 and lyrical, by the chorus. The opening is from Seneca ; but he has not servilely followed either that writer or Euripides. His odes, in the Pindaric style, are much worse than Ronsard's. The most striking tiling I have observed in the collection is an ode that was written in his last illness, and which death pre- vented him from finishing. Quelque part que je me tourne, Tristesse avec moi sejourne ; Tousiours mes tristes espris Sont d'une frayeur espris. Si je suis en la campagne J'oy une mortelle voix, Le mesme son m'accompagiie Si je suis dedans les bois. En quelque lieu que je soye II n'y eutre jamais joy e. Si je vois dans un hostel C'est un presage mortel. Si des hommes je m'absente, Cherchant les lieux esloignez, Par le hibou qui lamente Mes malheurs sont temoignes. Si pres des fleuves j 'arrive Soudain I'eau, laissant la rive, En fuyant devant mon mal, Se cache dans son canal. 84 EARLY FRENCH POETS. L'oiseau sur la seiche espine Sans dire mot est perche, Et le lieu ou je chemine Seiche comme il est touche. Si quelque amy d'aventure, Plein de pitie, s'aventure De me venir conforter, II sent ses sens transporter Par une tristesse extreme. II sent un ennuy, un soin, Et le pauvret a lui mesme De bon confort grand besoin. Unto whatever part I turn, Sorrow with me abides ; And, creeping o'er my spirit, still, A secret terror glides. A deadly sound is in mine ears. If in the field I be ; The self-same sound pursueth still, When to the woods I flee. Whatever house I enter in, Mirth will no longer stay ; A sad presage, whereso I come, Makes aU men haste away. And if the people's haunts I shun. Seeking a lonely place, The owl shrieks out in witness to My lamentable case. JAN DE LA PERUSE. 85 If to the river side I g-o, And stand upon the brink ; Sudden the waters, fleeing me, Within their channel shrink. The bird upon the dry thorn sits, And not a word saith he : The very pathway, that I tread. Dries up when touch'd by me. If any friend perchance do come In pity of my plight, To comfort me ; he straightway feels Himself a wretched wig'ht. 'to' A carking care, a woe extreme, Upon his heart do feed ; And he himself thenceforth, poor man, Of comfort much hath need. This is natural and pathetic. Jan de la Peruse, from the few poems he has left, seems to have been an amiable man, warmly attached to his friends, and not very solicitous to court the notice of the powerful. I have learnt nothing more concerning him, than that he was born at Angouleme, and died there in 1.555, in the prime of his life. 86 EARLY FRENCH POETS. PIERRE DE RONSARD. There is no poet I am acquainted with, ancient or modern, who has impressed his own character so minutely and strongly on his writmgs as Ronsard. His loyalty to his sovereigns, accompanied by the most perfect frankness ; the openness of his heart, equally disposed to form friendships, and constant in preserving them ; Ms generosity and placabihty ; his great learning, that unhappily served, for the most part, only to make him ridiculous ; the high value he set on his noble birth,* which, as he said, enabled him to imitate Pmdar, when Horace had failed in the attempt on account of his wanting that advan- tage ; his gallantry, made up of pedantry and pas- sion ; his hearty love of the country in its natural and miembellished state ; his zeal for the poetic art, to which every thing else was subordinate; — all these, like so many quarterings in a coat of armour, are on his pages blazoned at full, and in their proper colours. From the account which his affectionate friend Claude Biuet has given of his life, corrected by such notices as he has left of himself, I have extracted some of * Odes, B. ]. 0. xi. Epode iv. PIERRE DE ROXSARD. 87 the principal incidents, and shall place them here as the best introduction to the remarks which I have to make on his writings. Pierre de Ronsard, descended from a noble family, was bom on Saturday the eleventh of September, 1524, the year in which Francis I. was made prisoner in the battle of Pana.* The first of his ancestors who came into France, was the younger son of an opulent and powerful nobleman settled on the banks of the Danube. This man, incited by a spirit of enterprise, left his home with a band of companions, who, like himself, were yomiger brothers ; and entering into the service of Philip of Valois, then at war with the English, satisfied the French king so well, that he was rewarded with an ample estate on the banks of the Loire, where he and his posterity conthiued to reside. The father of our poet was thought a fit person to accompany Heniy, the son of Francis I. when he was sent as an hostage for his father into Spain ; and to be entrusted with the management of the young prince's household. Pierre, who was the sixth son, ha-s-ing been brought up till he was nine years old at the Chateau de la Poissoniere, his native place, in the lower Vendomois, was then sent to the Royal College of Navarre at Paris ; but not bearing the restraint laid on him by his preceptors, he was brought by his father to Avignon, and placed * See his twentieth Elegy, addressed to Remy Belleau. 88 EARLY FRENCH POETS. in the service of Francis, eldest son of the French king. That prince dying soon after, Ronsard was transferred to the train of his brother Charles, Duke of Orleans, by whom he was again passed over to the retinue of James V. king of Scotland, who had come to marry Madelaine, daughter of the French king. By James he was taken to Scotland, where he passed two years and a half. He then spent six months in England, where he learnt our language ; and afterwards returned to his former master the Duke of Orleans, who now retained him as his page. Being master of the accomplishments usual at his age, he was despatched on some affairs to Flanders and Zealand, whence he was charged to proceed on a mission to Scotland. On his second visit to that country, he narrowly escaped shipwreck. He returned at the early age of sixteen. Henry, who was afterwards king, then placed him in the suite of Lazare de Baif, who at that time was am- bassador to the Diet at Spires. On this journey he acquired the German language. His next service to his country led him to Piedmont, with the Capitaine de Langey. But these exertions were disproportioned to his time of life, and occasioned a fever, with a defluxion on the brain, that in the end deprived him of his hearing. This misfortune, however, served only to determine him to the pursuit of those studies to which he had not hitherto had time to apply himself. His love of letters is said to have been TIEKRE DE RONSAUD. 89 awakened by one of his brother pages, who had always a Tirgil in his hand, and who used to explain to him passages in that poet. In the Preface to the Franciade, he says, that his master at school had taught him Virgil ; and that ha\'iug learnt him by heart from his infancy, he could not forget him. To the Latin poet he now added Jean le Maire de Beiges, the Romant de la Rose, and the works of Clement Marot. By Dorat, who was the preceptor of young BaTf, Ronsard was encoiu-aged to the study of Greek, in which he made such a proficiency, as to translate the Prometheus of ^Eschylus ; at the same time asking his master, why he had so long kept such treasures concealed from him ? His next attempt was a version of the Plutus of Aristophanes, part of w^hich still remains. It was represented on the French theatre ; and from such a beginning, we can, in some measure, account for the excellence at which the French have since arrived in this species of com- position. He was next desirous of trying his strength with Pindar, whose manner he was so studious of imi- tating, that he drew on himself the sarcasms of his contemporaries. So far did he carry his admiration of every thing that had the most remote connection with his favourite poets of Greece, that he is said to have been influenced in the choice of a mistress to celebrate in his verses, by the accidental circumstance of her bearing the name of Cassandra, the daughter 90 EARLY FRENCH POETS. of Priam. But in the Epistle to Remy Belleau, he leaves it doubtful whether this was the real or fic- titious name of a young lady, of whom he became enamoured when he was following the court at Blois. His idolatry for the antients was not such as to make him neglect the means which his own covmtry afforded him for enriching its vernacular tongue. He is said, like Burke, to have visited the shops of artisans, and to have made himself acquainted with all sorts of handicrafts, in order that he might learn the different terms which were employed in them, and derive illustrations whereby to diversify and ornament his diction. In his Abrege de I'Art Poe- tique, and in the Preface to the Franciade, he himself recommends this practice ; and at the same time advises the poet to appropriate the most significant words that he can collect from the different dialects of France. About 1549, on his return from Poitiers to Paris, he chanced to fall in with Joachim du Bellay ; and joining together on the journey, the fellow-travellers were so much pleased with one another, that they determined to reside under the same roof. In this party, Jan Antoine de Baif made a third. It did not, however, continue uninterrupted by jealousy. Ronsard accused Bellay of wishing to forestal the favour of the public, by a collection of poems which he had closely copied from some of his own. He PIEREE DE EONSARD. 91 even instituted a suit, as Binet relates, for the recovery of some papers, of which du Bellay had surreptitiously obtained possession for this purpose, and gained his cause. But so Uttle resentment was harboured on either side, that they renewed the intimacy ; and Ronsard encouraged his rival to the cultivation of the art to which he was himself so much attached, by means at once more honourable, and more likely to ensure success— namely, by trusting to the re- sources of his own mind. Another instaxace of his noble temper showed itself in his forgiveness of Mellin de Saint Gelais, who, after ha-^-ing disparaged the works of Ronsard, as he had reason to beUeve, in the presence of the King, afterwards sought his friendship ; whereupon the injured poet not only altered a passage in one of his poems, in which he had expressed his sense of this malignity, but honoured him with those praises to which he thought the merit of Saint Gelais entitled him.-'= In answer to the charges brought against him of obscurity and unconnectedness, he haughtily declared his indif- ference to the taste of the vulgar ; and compared his * In the Odes, L. iv. O. xxi. it appears that Melliu had disavowed the calumnies which it was reported that he had uttered in the presence of the King against Ronsard ; and that their friendship was restored. 92 EARLY FRENCH POETS. enemies at the court to clogs that bite at the stone which they cannot digest. Mais que ferai-je a ce vulgaire, A qui jamais je n'ay sceu plaire, Ny ne plais, ny plaire ne veux ? L. V. 0. ii. At the end of ten years he quitted his Cassandra, thinking, perhaps, that having stood as long a siege as Troy without yielding, there was no farther chance of winning her affections. A young damsel of Anjou, named Mary, was the next object of his poetical courtship. To her he altered his style, and condescended to speak his passion in plainer terms. Margaret, Duchess of Savoy, is said to have changed the opinion of the French King with respect to the merit of Ronsard, and to have done it so effectually, that the monarch afterwards thought himself honoured by possessing so great a genius in his dominions ; and gave proofs that he did so, by the honours and pensions which he conferred on him, though not in such measure as to satisfy the expectations of Ron- sard. The sage Michel de I'Hopital, Chancellor to this lady, as he afterwards was of France, also vmder- took his defence ; and wrote a Latin poem in his praise. In return, Ronsard addressed a long and laboured ode (the tenth of the first book) to I'Ho- pital. The Cardinal de Chatillon, Charles Cardinal PIERRE DE RONSARD. 93 of Lorraine, and other great men of the day, now enlisted themselves in the number of his patrons and friends ; and the Presidents of the Jeux Floraux, not thinking the customary prize of the eglantine sufficient for his deserts, sent him a figure of INIinerva in silver, which he presented to the King. At the death of Henry II. and during the reli- gious dissensions which followed at the succession of Francis II. Ronsard, in his defence of the established form of worship, exposed himself to some rough treatment from the Reformers. Amongst other things, they accused him of heathenism, for ha\-ing assisted at the sacrifice of a he-goat ; an affair that turned out to be a frolic, in which he and some of his Hterary companions engaged, in consequence of a tragedy by Jodelle being represented before the King. However he might think himself bound to support the ancient religion of his country, that he was no bigot I am disposed to believe from the following lines in an Ode to one of his friends : — Ne romps ton tranquille repos Pour Papaux ny pour Huguenots, Ni amy d'eux, ni adversaire, Croyant que Dieu Pere tres-dous (Qui n'est partial comme nous) Scait ce qui nous est necessaire. L. V. 0. xxviii. 94 EAKLY FRENCH POETS. Break not thy peace, nor care a jot For Papist or for Huguenot, Nor counting either friends or foes. Thy trust in God alone repose, Who, not like us with partial care. Bids all a Father's blessing share. When the short reign of Francis 11. was termi- nated by the death of that King, his brother, Charles IX. did not suffer Ronsard to quit him, by which the poet was much gratified. Amongst other subjects to which Charles directed his pen, were such vices in his people as he should think deserving of his satire, at the same time, desiring him not to spare what he found worthy of reprehension in himself. Ronsard was hardy enough to take him at his word, and so fortunate as to escape the fate which befel the monitor of the Archbishop of Grenada. The King in his turn kept the bard in good order, declaring that poets were to be used like good steeds, to have sufficient food allowed them, but not to be pampered. The comtiers availed themselves of the fertility of his Muse ; and borrowed his pen for the celebration of their mistresses. The Queen Mother, Catherine de' Medici, chrected him to make choice of one of the ladies of the chamber, whose name was Helene de Surgeres, descended of a Spanish family, to receive the homage of liis own person, and bade him address her in the pure and refined style of Petrarch, PIEraiE DE RONSAKD. 95 as most suitable to his age and gravity. Between the discipline thus imposed on him by his royal master and mistress, it is likely that the poet must have felt himself mider some constraint. He con- tinued, howeAcr, to warble many a sonnet in his cage ; and as a reward of his submission and docility, was presented with the Abbey of Bellozane, and some priories. At the succession of Henry III. to whom he used the same freedom as he had done to his predecessor, he complained that he was no longer caressed, as he had been by Charles. He found some consolation in the attentions of the two rival queens, Elizabeth of England, and Mary Stewart, — the former of whom compared him to a valuable diamond of wliich she made him a present, — and the latter, from her prison, sent him in 1.583, two years before his death, a casket containing two thousand crowns, together with a vase representing Parnassus and Pegasus, and inscribed — A Ronsard I'ApoUon de la Source des Muses. " To Ronsard, Apollo of the Muses' Fountain." During the latter part of his life he was much afflicted with the gout. The Sieur Galland, chief of the Academy of Boncourt, was the friend in whose society he now found most comfort, calling him his "second soul." To him, on the twenty-second of October before his death, he wrote : — " Qu'il etoit 96 EARLY FEENCH POETS, devenu fort foible et maigre depuis quinze joui's, qu'il craignit que les feuilles d'Automne ne le ^issent tomber avec elles ; que la volonte de Dieu soit faite, et qu'aussi bien parmi tant de douleurs nerveux, ne se pouvant soutenir, il n'etoit plus qu'un inutile far- deau sur la terre, le priant au reste de Taller trouver, estimant sa presence lui etre un remede." "That for the last fortnight he had become very emaciated and feeble ; that he feared the leaves of Autumn would see him fall with them; that his prayer, however, was God's will be done ; and that, more- over, not being able to support himself amid such nervous pangs as he endured, he was no longer any thing but a useless burthen to the earth ; for the rest, that he entreated him to come and see him, for that he thought his presence would be a cordial to him." Hoping for some ease from change of place and objects, he removed from one of his benefices to another. His piety was fervent and unremitting ; and his repentance for the excesses of his earlier Ufe, into which the court had led him, earnest and sincere. He manifested no uneasiness, except in a frequent desire, which accompanied him to the last, of dictating the verses that presented themselves to liis mind. The last were two sonnets, in which he exhorted his spirit to confidence in his Sa\iour ; and thus he expired on the twenty-seventh of December, 1585, with his hands joined in prayer. PIERRE DE ROXSARD. ^1 According to his omi directions, he was buried in the choir of the church of Saint Cosme en I'lsle, one of liis priories, where he died. — Claude Binet caused, as he says, a httle monument to be erected, on which the following epitaph was inscribed : — Y^6a\ioc, (iKOfffiOQ 'f.r\v, ore KoafiioQ 6 Pwvo-ap^oc l\.6(jfiuv ktcvafirjaev k6(THU) twv CTrewv. Nuv ci ^avovTOQ tyti rvfifioQ Koafia hi vaw 'OWa* rrjc ^//jUfjg fxviifia Si Koajxog 6\oq. This is such a string of puns as, if they were once slipped out of their Greek setting, it would be impos- sible to thread again. His biographer observes, that Europe lost several of her most illustrious men about the same time : one of them was Antoine de iSIuret, whom Ronsard had reckoned among his friends, and who imited with Remy Belleau in vrriting annotations on his poems. The French poets, whom he esteemed as having begmi to write well in that language, were Maurice Sceve, Hugues Salel, Antoine Heroet, Mellin de Samt Gelais, Jacques Pelletier, and Guillaume Autels. To them succeeded a set of writers who were in some measure, though older some of them than himself, influenced by his example, and who have been already mentioned as constituting, together with him, the French Pleiad. Others, whom he highly esteemed were Estieime Pasquier ; OliA-ier de Magny ; Jean de H 98 EAKLY FRENCH POETS. la Peruse ; Amadis Jamyii, whom lie had educated as his page ; Robert Gamier, a tragic writer ; Florent Chrestien ; Scevole de Saiute Marthe ; Jean Passerat ; Philippe Desportes ; the Cardinal du Perron ; and Bertaud. Among those learned foreigners who paid their tribute to the excellence of Ronsard, occur the distinguished names of Juhus Csesar Scaliger, Pietro Vettori, and Sperone Speroni. His conversation is said to have been easy and pleasant. He was himself free, open, and simple ; and associated willingly with none who were otherwise, being a declared enemy to every thing like affectation. In short Claude Binet considered him in manners and appearance, as the model of a true French gentleman. His usual residence was at Sainte Cosme, a delight- ful spot, (I'oeillet de laTouraine,) the pink of Touraine, itself the garden of France ; or at Bourgueil, where he went for the sake of sporting, in which he took great pleasure ; and here he kept the dogs given him by Charles IX., a falcon, and a goshawk (un teircelet d'autour) . Another of his amusements was gardening, in which he had considerable skill. When at Paris, his favourite retirements were at Meudou, for the sake of the woods and the Seine ; or at Gentilly, Hercueil, Saint Cloud, and Vanves, for the sake of the rivulet of Bievre and its fountains. He took delight also in the sister arts of painting, sculpture, and music, and was skilled enough in the latter to sing his own verses. PIERRE DE RON SARD. 99 The poems that stand first in his collection are the Amours de Cassandre, consisting, besides a few other pieces, of two hundred and twenty-two sonnets, one only of which is in the Alexandrine, the rest are in the vers communs, or deca-syllabick measure. In the Preface to the Franciade he says, that he had changed his mind as to the Alexandrine measure, which he no longer considered as the proper heroic. His rea- son is, that it savours too much of an extremely easy prose, and is too enervated and flagging ; except it be for translations, in which it is useful on account of its length, for expressing the sense of an author. He thought differently when he wrote his Art Poetique, as may be seen by referring to the chapter on versifi- cation. Ronsard must sometimes have puzzled Cassandra, unless she was tolerably learned, and well read in Aristotle. Thus in Sonnet 68, he asks her — O lumiere ! enrichie D'un feu divin, qui m'ard si vivement, Pour me donner I'etre et le mouvement, Etes vous pas ma seul entelechie 1 " O light ! in whom I see The fire divine, that burns me to bestow Whate'er of being or of life I know, Say art not thou my sole entelechy ?" In the 1 04th, he reminds her of the violation of her person by Ajax, the son of Oileus. 100 EAELY FRENCH POETS. His attempt to mould the French language to the purposes of poetrj' did not succeed. When, in imita- tion of Petrarch, he says — Le seul Avril, de son jeune printemps Endore, emperle, enfrange notre temps. Son. 121. Vedi quant' arte 'ndora e'mperla e'nnostra L'abito eletto. the French being the language of Europe, will not easily endure such innovations as these, which tend to make it less generally intelligible. The fifty-second sonnet is no unfavoiirable specimen of his Platonic manner : — Avant qu' Amour du Chaos ocieux Ouvrit le sein qui couvoit la lumiere, Avec la terre, avec I'onde premiere, Sans art, sans forme etoient brouillez les cieux. Tel mon esprit de rien industrieux, Dedans mon corps, lorde et grosse matiere, Erroit sans forme et sans figure entiere, Quand I'arc d' Amour le perca par tes yeux. Amour rendit ma nature parfaite, Pure par lui mon essence s'est faite, II m'en donna la vie et le pouvoir. II echauffa tout mon sang de sa flame, Et m'emportant de son vol, fit mouvoir Avecques lui mes pensees et mon ame. PIERRE DE TIONSARD. 101 Or ever Love drew fortli the slumbering* light, That in the bosom of old Chaos lay, Earth, sea, and sky, without its primal ray, Were in blank ruin sunk and formless night : So, whelm'd in sloth, erewhile, my heavy sj^right Did in a dull and senseless body stray. Scarce life enough to stir the lumpish clay. Till from thine eyes Love's arrow inerc'd my sight. Then was I quicken'd ; and, by Love inform'd, C" My being to a new perfection came : v His influence my blood and spirits warm'd ; And, as I mounted this low world above, t! Following in thought and soul his sacred flame. Love was my being, and my essence Love. ■o 1^ The fifty-ninth is an imitation of Bembo. There is more elasticity and freedom in the copy than m the original. Comma un chevreiiil, quand le printemps detruit Du froid hyver la poignante gelee. Pour mieux brouter la fueille emmiellee, Hors de son bois avec I'aube s'enfuit: E seul, e seur, loin de chieus et de bruit. Or sur un mont, or dans une valee, Or pres d'une onde a I'escart recelee, Libre s'egaye oii son pied le conduit : De rets ne d'arcs sa liberte n'a crainte ; Sinon alors que sa vie est atteiute D'un trait sanglant, que le tient en langeur. 102 EARLY FRENCH POETS, Ainsi j'allois sans espoir de dommag'e, Le jour qu'un oeil sur TAvril de mon ag-e Tira d'un coup mille traits en mon coeur. Si come suol, poi che'l verno asjDro e rio, Parte e da loco alia station mig-liori, Uscir col giorno la cervetta fuori Del suo dolce boschetto almo natio : Ed or su per un coUe, or lungo un rio Lontana dalle case e dai pastori, Gir secura pascendo erbetta e fiori Ovunque piu la porta il suo desio : Ne teme di saetta o d'altro inganno, Se non quand' ella e colta in mezzo il fianco Da buon arcier che di nascosto scoccbi. Cosi senza temer futuro afFanno Moss' io, Donna, quel di cbe bei vostri occbi M' impiagar lasso tutto '1 lato manco. As when fresh sjiring apparels wood and plain, Forth from his native lair, a tender fawn Issues alone and careless, if the dawn Gin the grey east with flecker'd crimson stain ; And all unheeding of the hunter's train. Wherever through his roving fancy drawn, By lake or river, hill or flowery lawn, Sports with light foot, and feeds and sports again ; Nor aught he fears from meshes or from bow, Till to his liver a fleet arrow sped Has pierced, and panting on the earth he lies : — PIERRE DE RONSARD. 103 In my life's April thus wont I to go, Of harm unfearing-, where my fancy led, Ere the dart reached me from her radiant eyes. The hundred and sLxty-second, to Baif, proves his high esteem for that writer, whom we have seen so much disparaged. Pendant, Baif, que tu frapes au but De la vertu, qui n'a point de seconde, Et qu'a longs traits tu t'enyvres de I'onde, Que I'Ascrean entre les Muses but ; Ici banni, ou le mont de Sabut Charge de vins son epaule feconde, Pensif, je voy la fuite vagabonde Du Loir qui traine en la mer son tribut. Ores un antre, ores un bois sauvage, Ores me plait le secret d'un rivage. Pour essayer de tromper mon ennui ; Mais je ne puis, quoique seul je me tienne, Faire qu'Amour m'accompagnant ne vienne Parler a moi, et moi toujours alui. The conclusion of this is from Petrarch :— Ma pur si aspre vie e si selvagge Cercar non so, ch'Amor non venga sempre Ragionando con meco, ed io con lui ; where the variety in the metre gives the Italian poet a striking advantage over Ronsard. 104 EAELY FRENCH POETS. Baif, who, second in our age to none, Dost with free step to Virtue's summit mount, While thou allay'st thine ardour at the fount Of Ascra, where the Muses met their son ; An exile I, where sloping' to the sun Rich Sabut lifts his grape-empurpled mount Am fain to waste mine hours, and pensive count Loire's wand'ring waves as ocean-ward they run. And oft, to shun my cares, the haunt I change ; Now linger in some nook the stream beside, ■ Now seek a wild wood, now a cavern dim. But all avails not : whereso'er I range. Love still attends, and ever at my side Conversing with me walks, and I with him. There is more nature and passion in the two hundred and fourteenth sonnet, which begins — Quand je te voy, discourant a par toy, than I have observed in any of the others. The Second Book of his Amours, which contains, besides other short poems, eighty sonnets, is devoted to the praises of his Marie, the last thirteen being written after her death. It is confessedly in a more familiar style than the First Book ; yet is filled with images drawn from the heathen mythology. J'aime la fleur de Mars, j'aime la belle rose, L'une qui est sacree a Venus la deesse, L'autre qui a le nom de ma belle Maistresse, Pour qui trouble d'esprit en pais je ne repose. PIERRE DE RONSARD. 105 J'aime trois oiselets, Fun qui sa plume arrose De la pluye cle May, et vers le ciel se dresse : L'autre qui veuf au bois lamente sa destresse : L'autre qui pour son fils mille versets compose. J'aime un i^in de Bourgueil, ou Venus appendit Ma jeune liberte, quaiid pris elle rendit Mon coeur, que doucement un bel ceil emprisonne. J'aime un beau laurier de Phebus I'arbrisseau, Dont ma belle Maistresse, en pliant un rameau Lie de ses cbeveux, me fit un couronne. Le Second Livre des Amours. Son. 28. Two flowers I love, the INIarcb-flower and tbe rose. The lovely rose that is to Venus dear, The March-flower that of her the name doth bear, Who will not leave my spirit in repose : Three birds I love ; one, moist with ]\Iay-dew, goes To dry his feathers in the sun-shine clear ; One for his mate laments throughout the year, And for his child the other wails his woes : And Bourgueil's pine I love, where Venus hung, For a proud trophy on the darksome bough, Ne'er since releas'd, my youthful liberty : And Phoebus' tree love I, the laurel tree, Of whose fair leaves, my mistress, when I sung, Bound with her locks a garland for my brow. In one of his odes (Book v. O. xi.) he again ex- presses his preference for these two flowers, the rose, and the violet, which he calls the flower of March, and supposes to bear the name of his Marie. That 106 EARLY FRENCH POETS. the lark was Ms favovirite bird, appears from a pas- sage in his Gayetez : — Alouette, Ma doucelette mig-nolette, Qui plus qu'un rossignol me plais Qui chante en un bocage epais. After a few sonnets and madrigals on another lady, whom he calls Astree, and of whom we are not told whether she was of the Queen Mother's choosing or his own, we proceed to his two books of sonnets on Helene. These are a hundred and forty-two in number. He begins with swearing to her by her brothers Castor and Pollux ; by the vine that enlaced the elm ; by the meadows and woods, then sprouting into verdure (it was the first day of May) ; by the young Spring, eldest son of Nature ; by the crystal that rolled along the streams ; and by the nightingale, the miracle of birds, — that she should be his last venture. Ce premier jour de May, Helene je vous jure Par Castor, par Pollux, vos deux freres jumeaux, Par la vig'ne enlassee a I'entour des ormeaux, Par les prez, par les bois herissez de verdure, Par le nouveau printemps fils aisne de nature, Par le crystal qui roule au giron des ruisseaux, Et par le rossig'nol miracle des oiseaux, Que seule vous serez ma derniere avanture. Son. 1. PIfiRRE DE ROXSARD. 107 Whether she was so or not, does not, I think, appear ; but it was full time, for he was about fifty years old. There is, however, another short book, entitled Amours Diverses ; and besides this, a large gleanmg of sonnets and odes, many of them on the same subject, which he did not think worth gather- ing ; but which his editors were careful enough to pick up and store along vnth. the rest. Amongst these are some, which for more reasons than one I cannot recommend to the notice of my reader. We will pass them, and go on to his odes. These may be di\'ided into two classes ; some, in which he has imitated the ancients ; and others, that are the oifspring of liis own feelings and fancy. In the former, mihappily the larger number, Anacreon, Pindar, Callimachus, Horace, are all laid under con- tribution by turns, and that with no sparing hand. It was in his abiUty to transfuse the spirit of the old Theban into Gallic song, or as he called it, to Pindarise, that he most prided himself, and it was here that he most egregiously failed. Si des mon enfance Le premier en France J'ai Pindarise, De telle entreprise Heureusement prise Je me voy prise. 108 EARLY FRENCH POETS. Nothing can well be more unlike the poet, whom he boasts to have introduced into his own language,* than this tripping measure. As for the music of Pindar, indeed, that was out of the question. It was not in the power of the French, nor perhaps of any other language, to return even a faint echo of it. But those who are acquainted with that poet, know that another of his distinctions consists, not only in the hardiness of his metaphors, but in the no less light than firm touch with which he handles them. One instance will be enough to show how ill Ronsard has represented this characteristic of his model. Pindar, speaking of a man who had not, through neglect or forgetfulness, his task to do when it ought to have been already done, says, that "he did not come, bringing with him Excuse, the daughter of Afterthought ;" or literally, " of the late-minded Epimetheus." * At the beginning- of the next century, there was a translation of all Pindar into French, partly in prose and partly in verse. It is not mentioned by Heyne when he is recounting the versions that have been made of that writer ; nor have I seen any notice of it elsewhere. I will add the title of the book, and a specimen of it, taken from the beginning, which will be enough to satisfy any reader's curiosity : — Le Pin- dare Thebain. Truduction meslee de vers et de prose. Par le Sieur Lagausie^ 1C'2G, 8vo, Paris. Chez Jean Laquehay. • PIERRE DE RONSARD. 109 'Oc oh Tciy 'ETTifiaBeoQ "Aywv 6\piy6ov ^vyaripa Upofaffiv Barn^ai' 'A(pii:ETO lofjovg. Pjth. V. 38. How has Ronsard contrived to spoil this in his application of it to the Constable Montmorency ! Qui seul mettoit en evidence Les saints tresors de sa prudence, Ne s'est jamais accompag'ne Du sot enfant d'Epimethee, Ol. 1. La force de chasque element Paroit par leurs eifects contraires, Mais le moindre de I'eau surmonte absolument Tous ceux de ses trois freres. Parmy les diiferens metaux Des tliresors d'un superbe avare L'esclat de For fait treuver faux L'esclat des autres le plus rare, Brillant centre eux comme un flambeau qui luit Dans les tenebres de la nuict, Si tant est que mon coeur se pique De soin de descrire un combat Dont tous les Grecs vont voir I'esbat, II faut parler de I'Olympique. D'autant que comme on voit que I'astre du soleil AUumant un beau jour a perruque espandue Esclaire la vaste estendue De Fair sans avoir son pareil. Je ne s^aurois non plus treuver un tournay com- parable a I'Olympique, &c. no EARLY FRENCH POETS. Mais de celuy de Promethee, Par longues ruses enseigne. L. i. O. i. Strophe 6. Another of Pindar's excellences are those yvw/xai, sentences, or maxims, the effect of which results not more from their appositeness than their compression. One of these is, that "Envy is better than pity," Kpiacrujv yap olKTipnov vostre premiere enfance. (P. 33.) Si les Dieux tant de fois nous estoient punisseurs Que nous chetifs mortels leur sommes offenseurs, Leur foudre defaudroit, et la terre prefonde Sans cause enfndteroit sa poitrine feconde : Ainsi vous convient-il estre aux vostres plus doux. (P. 51.) The speeches are often immoderately long. He has much declamation ; occasionally a good deal of passion ; but very little character. Ill what manner he conducts his stories, my reader will be able to judge from the following abstract which I have made of each of those wherein the plot is, for aught I know to the contrary, his own. UOBERT GAKNIER. 179 In the first, which is entitled Porcie, the fury Megsera speaks the prologue. The chorus of Ro- man women then sing the perils of grandeur and the safety of lowliness in an ode, much of which is from Horace. — Act 2. Porcia laments the miseries of her country. The chorus sing a translation of Horace's Beatus ille qui procul negotiis. The Nurse also mourns over the sufferings of Rome, and expresses her fears for the approaching conflict between the forces of Antony and those of Brutus and Cassius, and for the effects which the defeat of the latter may produce on her mistress. Porcia now comes in, and in her despair regrets the death of Julius Caesar. The chorus again sing a moral ode, much of which is from Horace. — Act 3. Areus, the philosopher and favourite of Octavius Caesar, makes a long soliloquy on the happiness of the golden age, and the subse- quent corruption of mankind, concluding with a quo- tation from Horace. Octavius, who has now been informed of the death of Brutus, enters exulting, and vows further vengeance on his enemies, from which Areus endeavours to dissuade him, but in vain. There is in this scene a brisk alternation in the dialogue. Ar. Cesar pour se veng-er ne prescript jamais homme. Oct. S'il les eust tous prescripts, il regneroit a Rome. Ar. II epargnoit leursang-. — Oct. II prodig-uoit le sien. Ar. II estimoit beaucoup garder un citoyen. 180 EARLY FRENCH POETS. Oct. D'un citoyen amy la vie est tousiours chere, Mais d'un qui ne Test pas nous doit estre legere. Ar. Cesar pardonnoittout. — Oct. Que servit son pardon? Ar. D'en conserver plusieurs. — Oct. Quel en fut le guerdon ? Ar. Que gravee en nos coeurs sa florissante gloire Vit eternellement d'une heureuse memoire. Oct. II est mort toutesfois.— ^r. Immortel est son los. Oct. Mais son corps n'est-il pas dans le sepulchre enclos ? Ar. Ne devoit-il mourir ? (P. 52.) Ar. Csesar proscribed no man to sate his vengeance. Oct. Had he proscribed them all, he yet in Rome Were reigning. — Ar. He was sparing of their blood. Oct. Say rather he was lavish of his own. Ar. A citizen's life was precious in his eyes. Oct. The life of one, who is a citizen, And loves us, ever must be dear ; Not his who is a citizen, and hates us. Ar. Csesar pardon'd all.— Oc^. Whereto served his pardon ? Ar. To win more to him. — Oct. What was its reward ? Ar. That graven in our hearts his glory lives Eternally in blest remembrance. — Oct. Yet He died.— ^r. Not so his praise, which is immortal. Oct. But for his body, is't not in the tomb ? Ar. And could he 'scape to die 1 The chorus sing the mutability of human affairs and the unhappy destinies of Rome. Antony, and Ventidius, his lieutenant, return to Rome after their EGBERT GAKNIER. Ibl victory. Antony salutes the city in a pompous speech, and Ventidius sets him on recoimting the labours of his forefather Hercules, and boasting of liis o^vn achievements. He is joined by his two colleagues, Octavius and Lepidus, vrho debate on the measures to be pursued in future, and resolve to set out for their several provinces. A chorus of soldiers conclude the act. — Act 4. The messenger, after much delay and circumlocution, and many long similes, communicates the fatal tidings to Porcia, who breaks forth into the most clamorous grief. Tonnez, cieux, foudroyez, esclairez, abismez, Et ne me laissez rien de mes os consommez, Que ceste terre ingrate enferme en sa poitrine. Respandez, respandez vostre rage maline Sur mon chef blasphemeur, et tempestez sibien Que demoymalheureuseilnedemeure rien. (P. 75.) Thunder, ye heavens, flash, lighten, swallow up, Nor leave one little particle of all My seared bones, which this ungrateful earth May in its bosom cover. Pour, pour down Your utmost spite on this blaspheming head ; And execute your stormy wrath so fulh', That nought remain of such a wretch as I am. The Nurse endeavours to soothe her, to no purpose. The chorus once more bewail the fate of Rome. 182 EARLY FKENCH POETS. Act 5. The Nurse relates to the chorus the death of her mistress. They lament over that event, and the fate of Brutus, in a simple and pathetic song ; and the Nurse concludes the play, with a poniard at her breast, in the following couplet. Mourons, sus sus mourons, sus poignard haste toy ; Sus jusques au pommeau vien t'enfoncer en moy. Die, die we then. No ling'ring. Haste thee, dagger ; Up to thy hilt be buried quick within me. CORNELIE. Act 1 . Cicero, iu a long soliloquy, deplores the servitude of Rome vmder Julius Csesar, and expatiates on the mischief of ambition. The chorus sing an ode on the wickedness and evil of war. — Act 2. Cornelia bemoans the fate of her two husbands, Crassus and Pompey. Cicero endeavours to console, and to argue her out of her intention to commit suicide. A fine ode by the chorus on the perpetual revolution and changes in human affairs — Rome, once freed from her kings, has been again enslaved, and will sometime be in like manner restored to liberty. * Garnier's Cornelia was translated by Th. Kyd in 1594. KOBEUT GARNTER. 183 — Act 3. Cornelius tell the chorus of a terrible dream, in which Pompey had appeared to her. The chorus assure her, that the spirits of the deceased cannot return, but that evil demons assume their appearance in order to fill us \vith vain terrors. Cicero makes another turgid sohloquy on the ambi- tion of Caesar. Philip (who had been the freedman of Pompey) enters, bearing, in a funeral urn, the ashes of his late master. ComeUa laments over them, and inveighs against Caesar. Another ode by the chorus, on the mutability of fortune, concludes the Act. — Act 4. A scene between Cassius and Decimus Brutus, in which the former excites the latter to ven- geance against the tyrant. The chorus sing the glory of those who free their country from tyraimy, the insecurity of kings, and the happiness of a low condition. Caesar and Mark Antony ; the one ex- ulting in his conquests, the other warning him against his enemies. There are some splendid verses put into the mouth of Caesar. O beau Tybre, et tes flots de grand' aise ronflans, Ne doubleut-ils leur crespe a tes verdureux flancs, Joyeux de ma venue, et d'une voixvagueuse Ne vont-ils annoncer a la mer ecumeuse L'honneur de mes combats ? ne vont, ne vont tes flots Aux Tritons mariniers faire bruire mon los, Et au pere Ocean se vanter que le Tybre Roulera plus fameux qu' Eufrate et le Tygre ? (P. 139.) 184 EARLY FRENCH POETS. O beauteous Tyber ! and do not thy billows Snort out their gladness, with redoubled curls, Up their green margins mounting, all o'erjoy'd At my return ? do they not hasten onwards Unto the foamy sea, to tell my triumphs In surging clamours, and to bid the Tritons Trumpet the praises of my valorous deeds '' Vaunting to Father Neptune that their Tyber Rolls prouder waves than Tygris or Euphrates 1 A chorus of Caesar's friends celebrate his praises, and declaim on the e^als of envy. — Act 5. A mes- senger relates to Cornelia the defeat and death of her father Scipio, embellishing his tale with a due pro- portion of similes. Her grief clamorous and elo- quent as usual. Au moins, ciel, permettez, permettez, a cette heure, Apresla mort des miens, que moy-mesmeje meure: Poussez moy dans la tombe, ores que je ne puis, Veufe de tout bien, recevoir plus d'ennuis ; Et que vous n'avez plus, m'ayant ravi mon pere, Ravi mes deux maris, sujet pour me desplaire. (P. 156.) Here we have the same thought, but much less strongly expressed, as in that line which Longinus has adduced from the most pathetic scene in the most pathetic of all tragedians. rifib) KaKwv di), KovKtr' tffO' otttj riGy. Euripides, Hercules Furens, 1245, Ed. Barnes. EGBERT GAKNIER. 185 And Tyrwhitt, in his Glossary* to Chaucer, has remarked a similar passage in that poet. So full of sorowe am I, sothe to sayne, That certainly no more liarde grace May sit on me, for why? there is no space. Cornelia concludes by resoMng to live, that she may honour the remains of the dead. Mais las ! si je trespasse, ains que d'avoir log-e Dans un funebre tombeau mon pere submerge, Qui en prendra la cure 1 iront ses membres vagues A jamais tourmentez par les meurtrieres vagues I Mon pere, je vivray ; je vivray, mon espoux. Pour faire vos tombeaux, et pour pleurer sur vous, Languissante, chetive, et de mes pleurs fameuses Baigner plaintivement vos cendres genereuses : Puis sans bumeur, sans force emplissant de sanglots, Les vases bien heureux qui vous tiendront enclos, Je vomiray ma vie, et tombant legere ombre Des esprits de la bas j'iray croistre le nombre. (P. 158 ) But oh ! if death surprise me ere I lodge My father in his tomb, who then shall do That office for him ? Shall his limbs go wand'ring For ever up and down the murderous waves ? Yea, I will live, my father — I will live, * See the word Grace. 186 EAELY FRENCH POETS. My husband, but to make your tombs, and weep Upon you, lang-uishing- away my life In pining sorrow, and bedewing still Your noble ashes witli my plenteous tears, And then at last, for lack of moisture, falling. Sob out my soul into the happy urns That shall contain you ; and, an empty shadow. Flit down among the spirits of the deep. ANTOINE. Antony makes a speech not much in character, deploring his captivity to the charms of Cleopatra. The chorus sing an ode on the miseries incident to human nature ; for part of which they are indebted to Euripides, and to Horace for the remainder. — Act 2. Philostratus appears, for this time only, that he may lament over the state of Egypt. The chorus in their song run over all the instances of unhappy mourners whom they can recall to memory, and say they have themselves more reason to mourn than all, but do not tell us for what cause. Cleopatra, with Eras and Charmion, her women, and Diomedes her secretary. The Queen declares her resolution to share the fate of the conquered Antony, and will listen to no arguments for consulting her own safety. She goes into a sepulchre, there to await her doom. Diomedes remains alone, to meditate on the beauties of his royal mistress, and to lament her obstmacy. ROBERT GARNIER. 187 The follomng ode predicts the subjection of the Nile to the Tyber, but suggests a topic of consolation to Egypt in the future destruction of Rome herself. — Act 3. Antony cUscovers to his friend Lucilius his fears of Cleopatra's fidelity. Lucilius endeavours to calm his apprehensions ; and after much empty moraUzing on his own weakness, and on the fatal effects of pleasure, Antony resolves to put an end to his life. The chorus chant an Ode, partly borrowed from the Jmtum et tenacem •propositi virum of Horace, in which they commend the determination of Antony and Cleopatra not to siu-vive their mis- fortmies. — Act 4. Octa^-ius Caesar enters, boasting of his triumphs. Agrippa is dissuading him from his design of exterminating his enemies, when Der- cetas comes to acquaint him with the particulars of Antony's death. His death is bewailed by Caesar; but Agrippa thinks only of being in time to prevent Cleopatra from destroying herself and her treasures. A chorus of Caesar's friends lament the di\asions of the Roman empire, in a song which, according to custom, is in great measure translated from Horace. — Act 5. Cleopatra, in the monument with her chil- dren, their tutor Euphron, and her women Charmion and Eras, utters her last lamentation over the dead body of Antony. 188 EARLY FRENCH POETS. HIPPOLYTE, LA TKOADE, ET ANTIGONE. The subject of these three tragedies being taken chiefly from Sophocles, Euripides, and Seneca, I shall willingly decline the task of being as particular in my account of them as of the rest. In the first, the ghost of Jllgeus speaks the prologue. Then comes in Hip- polytus, who, in a speech of about one hundred and fifty Unes, declares his foreboding of some approaching evil. Had Mr. Charles Lamb met with a similar passage in one of our old dramatists, I do not think he would have passed it unnoticed. Ja I'Aurore se lave, et PhcBbus qui la suit Vermeil fait flamboyer les flambeaux de la nuit, Ja ses beaux limonniers commencent a respandre, Le jour aux animaux qui ne font que I'attendre, Jales monts sourcilleux commencent ajaunir Sous le char de ce Dieu qu'ils regardent venir. O beau soleil luisant, belle et claire jjlanette, Qui pousse tes rayons dedans la nuit brunette, O grand Dieu perruquier, qui lumineux estains Me decharmant les yeux, I'erreur des songes vains, Qui ores travailloient durant cette nuit sombre Mon esprit combattu d'un larmoyable encombre ; Je te salue, O Pere, et resalue encor, Toy, ton char, tes cbevaux, et tes beaux rayons d'or. II me sembloit dormant, que j'erroy solitaire Au creux d'uue forest mon esbat ordinaire BOBERT GARNIER. 189 Descendre dans un val, que mille arbres autour Le ceinturant espois, privent de nostre jour. II y faisoit obscur, mais non pas du tout comme En une pleine nuict, qu'accompagne le somme; Mais comme il fait au soir, apres que le soleil A retire de nous son visage vermeil, Et qu'il relaisse encor une lueur qui semble Estre ni jour ni nuict, mais tous les deux ensemble. Dedans un val ombreux, estoit a droite main Un antre plein de mousse, et de lambrunche plein Oil quatre de mes chiens entrerent d'avanture, Quatre Molossiens de goierriere nature. A g-rande peine ils estoient a la gueule du creux Qu'il se vient presenter un g-rand lion affreux, Le plus fort et massif, le plus espouvantable, Qui jamais beberg'eant au Taure inhospitable. Ses yeux estoient de feu, qui flamboient tout ainsi Que deux larges tisons dans un air obscurci. Son col gros et cbarnu, sa poitrine nerveuse, S'enfloient herissonez d'une hure crineuse : Sa gueule estoit horrible, et horrible ses dens. Qui comme gros piquets apparoissoient dedans. Mes chiens, bien que hardis, si tost ne I'aviserent, Que saisis des frayeurs dehors ils s'elancerent: Accoururent vers moy tremblant et pantelant, Criant d'une voix foible, et comme s'adeulant. Si tost que je les voy si esperdus, je tasche De les rencourager : mais leur courage lasche Ne les rasseure point, et tant plus que je veux Les en faire approcher, ils reculent peureux, Com^e un grand chef guerrier qui voit ses gens en fuite. 190 EAKLY FRENCH POETS. Et plusieurs gros scadrons d'ennemi a leur suite, A beau les exliorter, les prier, supplier, De retourner visage, et de se rallier, A beau faire promesse, a beau donner menace, Cast en vain ce qu'il fait, ils ont perdu I'audace. lis sont sourds et muets, et n'ont plus autre soin. Que de haster le pas, s'enfuir bien loin. J'empoigne mon espieu, dont le fer qui flamboye Devant mon estomach, me decouvre la voye ; Je descens jusqu'au bord, ou soudain j'appercoy Le grand lion patu, qui decoclie vers moy, Degorgeant un tel cri de sa gorge beante Que toute la forest en resonne tremblante, Qu' Hymette en retentist, et que les rocs, qui sont Au bord Thriasien, en sourcillent le front. Fermeje me roidis, adosse d'une souclie, Avance d'une jambe, et a deux bras je couche Droit a luy mon espieu, prest de luy traverser La gorge ou I'estomacb, s'il se cuide avancer. Mais les peu me servit cette brave asseurance ! Car luy sans faire ces du fer que je luy lance, Non plus que d'un festu que j'eusse eu dans la main, Me I'arrache de force, et le rompt tout soudain ; Me renverse sous luy, me trainace et me coule, Aussi facilement qu'il eust fait d'une boule, \/ Ja ses griffes fondoient dans mon estomac nu, L'escartelant sous luy comme un poulet menu Qu'un milan aravi sousl'aisle de sa mere, Et le va dechirant de sa griife meurtriere ; Quand, vaincu du tourment, je jette un cri si haut, Que j'en laisse mon songe, et m'eveille en sursaut, ROBERT GARNIER. 191 Si froid et si tremblant, si glace par la face, Par les bras, par le corps, que je n'estoy que glace. Je fu long temps ainsi dans mon lict estendu, Regardant qa et la comma un homme esperdu, Que I'esprit, la memoire, et le sens abandonne. Qui ne scait ce qu'il est, ne cognoist plus personne. Immobile, insensible, etourde, qui n'a plus De pensement en lay qui ne soit tout confus. Mais las ! ce n'est encor tout ce qui m'espouvante, Tout ce qui me cliagrine, et mon ame tourmente ; Ce n'est pas cela seul qui me fait tellement Craindre je ne scay quoy de triste evenement ! J'ay le coeur trop hardy pour estre fait la proye D'un songe deceveur ; cela seul ne m'effroye ; Le songe ne doit pas estre cause d'ennuy, Tant foible est son pouvoir quand il n'y a que luy : Ce n'est qu'un vain semblant, qu'un fantosme, une image, Qui nous trompe en dormant, et non pas un presage. Depuis quatre ou cinq nuicts le hibou n'a jamais Cesse de lamenter au haut de ce palais, Et mes chiens aussitost qu'ils sont en leurs estables Comme loups par les bois lieurlent espouvantables ; Les tours de ce chasteau noircissent de corbeaux ; Jour et nuict aperchez sepulcraliers oiseaux, Et n'en veulent partir, ores qu'on les decliasse, Si ce n'est quand je sors pour aller a la chasse ; Car alors tons ensemble ils decampent des tours, Et croassant sur moym'accompag-nent tousiours, Bavolant 9a et la, comme une espesse nue Qui vogue parmi I'air, du Soleil soustenue. (P. 247.) 192 EARLY FBENCH POETS. Already doth the goddess of the dawn Peer forth, and ruddy Phoebus following Makes the night torches flare ; his pawing coursers Scatter down light on all earth's animals That do but wait them, and the beethng chfFs Grow amber with the chariot of the God Whom they spy coming. O fair beaming Sun ! Bright Planet, that dost push thy subtle beams Through the dun night ! great golden-tressed God, Who with thy luminous wand mine eyes uncharming, Extinguishest the errour of vain dreams. That all this troublous night have haunted me ; Hail to thee, Father ! and again all hail To thee, thy car and steeds, and beams of gold. Methought in sleep I wander'd all alone Through a deep forest, where I oft resort, Into a valley, with a thousand trees. With their tall antlers girdling, shut from day. I stood in darkness, yet not darkness such As in full night by slumber companied ; But as when late at evening, after Sol Has quite withdrawn his visage, and yet leaves A light, that seemeth neither night nor day. But both conjoin'd. And in that shadowy vale. Upon my right methought there was a cave. Moss-lined, and mantled with a shaggy vine. Four of my dogs at random enter'd it, Four stout Molossians of right warlike breed ; But scarcely had they dived into its jaws, When a fierce lion met them. Such a beast, UOBERT GARNIER, 193 So large, so massive, and so full of dread. Amid the wilds of Taurus never stabled. His eyes of fire glared like two beacon torches In a dim sky. His big and fleshy neck, And his wide brawny chest, were swoln and bristled With a rough matted fell : his throat was horrible, And horrible his teeth, within the maw Ranged like to monstrous spikes. My dogs, alert And hardy as they were, no sooner spy'd him. Than they sprang out in terrour, and did run Up to me, quaking, out of breath, and yelping With a shrill feeble wail. Soon as I see them Thus cow'd, I strive to hearten them again ; But their slack courage rallies not a jot; And by how much the more I tarre them on. They, more afear'd, recoil. As a brave leader. That sees his people routed, and the enemy Dogging their heels, cries out, exhorts, persuades. Entreats them to return and face the foe : But bootless all ; in vain he promises, In vain he threatens ; they have lost their daring, Are deaf, and mute, and dream but of their flight. I grasp my pike, whose iron tip advanced Glistens before me, and informs my path. Then on the brink arriving, I perceive The mighty lion, that with out-stretch'd paws Darts on me, uttering from open throat So dread a roar, that all the forest shook, And from Hymettus the redoubled cry Echoed, and on Thriasian shores the rocks o 194 EAKLY FRENCH POETS. Arcla'd their steep brows in wonder. Firm I stand, Stiffen each nerve, against a trunk my back Prop, and, one leg outstretch'd, on either arm Right towards him couch my pike, ready to pierce His gorg'e or entrails, if he dared advance. But he no more account had of my spear Than if I had been armed with a straw ; Seized it, and snapp'd in twain ; then suddenly Upset me under him, drags on, and rolls me As easily as he had done a ball. Already were his clutches in my breast, Ripping me up like to a tiny bird. That from its mother's wing a kite hath ravish'd. And rends in pieces with his murderous claws ; When by the torment vanquish'd, I so loud Shriek'd out, that I broke off my dream, and waking, Leap'd up, so chill, so trembling, and so frozen, My face, and arms, and body were but ice. Thus on my bed longtime I lay extended Gazing around me like a man distract. Who, reft of thought, and memory, and sense, Wots neither what he is, nor better knows Other beside himself; a motionless clod, And heap of mere confusedness within. Npr this, alas! the whole of what I fear. Or that doth fill my spirit with strange boding Of some unknown event. I have a heart Too stout to be the prey of a false dream. This is not all that frays me ; for a dream Should not itself be cause of our annoy ; Since 'tis no more than a vain empty shadow, ROBERT GARNIER. 195 And no presagement of the thing to come. These four or five nights past, the owlet ne'er Hath ceased lamenting on our palace roof; And, soon as in their kennel stall'd, my hounds Howl like to forest wolves. Our castle towers Are black with ravens, perched night and day ; Sepulchral birds, that will not quit their seat, Thoug-h driven, save when I go forth to hunt ; And then it seems as all took wing at once From the steep battlements, and, croaking round me, Accompanied my steps this way and that, Flapping their dismal pennons in mid air, Self-balanced, like a thick and low-hung cloud. The lively song of the attendant sportsmen tends to dispel these horrors. It must be owned, that there is something in all this more to our English taste ; in short, that it has more of character and of picturesque effect, than the opening of Racine's Phe- dre, in which the tutor of Hippolytus is trpug to extort from his pupil a confession of his being en- amoured of Aricia, which a little prudery alone restrains him from avowing. II n'en fiiut point douter, vous aimez, vous brulez, • Vous perissez d'un mal que vous dissimulez. La charmaute Aricie a-t-elle su vous plaire I Hippolyte. Theramene, je pars, et vais chercher mon pere. The young prince, though a votary of Diana her- 196 EARLY FRENCH POETS. self, if he had not had a mistress would have appeared more savage than any of the wild beasts he hunted, in the eyes of that court, where, as Voltaire tells us, the prime minister himself could not be without one. In the next scene the judgment of Racine led him to follow Euripides, though he has done it most timidly, and with a sacred horror of the bold and passionate imagery of the Greek. In his preface, acknowledg- ing his obligations to that WTiter for the conception of Phaedra's character, he tells us, that he beheves he had never exhibited anvthins; so reasonable on the stage. " Quand je ne lui dcATois que la seule idee du caractere de Phedre, je pourrois dire que je lui dois ce que j'ai peut-etre mis de plus raisonnable sur le theatre." And to her reason indeed it must be allowed he has brought her ia the strait-waistcoat of his alexandrines ; for the poor queen raves no more as she had formerly done in her palace at Athens, about dewy fountains, pure waters, poplars, tufted meadows, pine-trees, beast-slaughtering hounds, spotted stags, and Thessalian spears ; about Diana mistress of the sea-lake, and Venetian horses ; but talks as a lady might be supposed to talk, who had lived the greater part of her life at Paris, and was subject to be at times a little flighty. Dieux, quenesuis-je assise a I'ombre des forets? Quand pourrai-je, au travers d'une noble poussiere, Sui^Te de Tceil un char fu^-ant dans la carriere ? ROBERT GARNIER. 197 Gamier would assuredly have made more of this ; but he has unfortunately struck off into the route of Seneca, who makes the queen speak of her love for Hippolytus in the presence of the Nurse as if the latter were already acquainted with it, and so loses one of the finest occasions ever offered to a dramatic poet, to shew his art in the casual and unconscious discovery of an illicit passion. The " Ah, Dieux !" of Racine's Phsedra, on the mention of the name of Hippolytus, is not equal to the o'ifxoi of Euripides. It does not sound so much like a moan drawn from the bottom of a heart ready to burst with a sense of its sufferings. In the rest of the play. Gamier has not departed far from Seneca's model. Euripides alone mtroduces Hippolytus still alive at the conclu- sion, and has a short but moving scene between him and Theseus, In the preface to the Troade, Gamier owns that he has taken it partly from the Hecuba and Troades of Euripides, and partly f^-om the Troas of Seneca. It is by expansion that he is most apt to spoil the effect of what he borrows. In Seneca, Andromache, when she is begging of Ulysses to spare the child Astyanax, says, — An has ruinas urbis in cinerem datas Hie excitabit ? And then holding up his little hands, adds, Hse manus Trojam erig-ent J 198 EARLY FRENCH POETS. than which scarcely anything can be imagined more pathetic* But when Gamier makes four words into as many hues, it is dilated almost to nothing. Quoy ? ces floliettes mains, ces deux mains enfantines, Pourront bien restaurer les Troyennes ruines ? Pourront bien redresser les meurs audacieux Du cendreux Ilion, que battirent les Dieux ? (P. 352.) An Italian poet, Bongianni Gratarolo, who has treated the same subject in his Astianatte, manages it much better. Son queste mani da redrizzar Troja? (Act 4.) And are these hands to build up Troy again 1 In like inanner, when Talthybius relates to Hecuba the sacrifice of Polyxena, Garnier has enlarged on the narration in Euripides, which, beautiful as it is, is yet sufficiently long. Into his Antigone, he has crowded much of the Septem Contra Thebas of iEschylus, the Phoenissse of Euripides, and the Thebais of Seneca ; nor is it till the fourth act, that he takes up the subject as it is * "The master-piece of Seneca," says Dryden in his Treatise on Dramatic Poesy, " I hold to be that scene in the Troades, where Ulysses is seeking for Astyanax to kill him. There you see the tenderness of a mother represented in Andromache.'' ROBERT GARNIER. 199 treated in the Antigone of Sophocles. The farewell of the heroine, when she is about to enter her li\-ing sepulchre, will be well remembered by all readers of that master of the drama. It is thus imitated by Gamier: — O fontaine Dircee ! 6 fleuve Ismene ! 6 prez ! O forests? 6 costaux ! 6 bords de sang pourprez ! O soleil jaunissantliimiere de ce monde! O Thebes, mon pays, d'hommes gnaerriers feconde, Et maintenant fertile en dure cruaute, Contrainte je vous laisse et votre royaute ! Ha, je scay que bientost sortant de ma caverne, Je vous verray, mon pere, au profond de I'Ayerne ! Je vous verray, ma mere, esclandreuse locaste, Je verray Eteocle, et le gendre d'Adraste, N'agueres devalez sur lenoir Acheron, Et ne passez encor par le nocher Charon. Adieu, brigade armee ; adieu, cheres compagnes, Je m'en vay lamenter sous les sombres campagnes : J'entre vive en ma tombe, oii languira mon corps Mort et vif, esloigne des vivans et des morts. (P. 478.) Instead of a translation of these hues, I will add an attempt which I once made to compress the original into a few Latin elegiacs. 200 EARLY FRENCH POETS. Hos viva Antigone, jamjam subitura sepulchrum, Thebas respiciens, fudit ab ore sonos. Sancta vale sedes, comitesque valete puellse, Et tu Dircsei fluminis unda vale. Nunc licet extremum patrias insistere terras ; Nunc licet extremo munere luce frui. Intereo misera, amplexus ignara mariti : Turbavit pompas mors, Hymeneee, tuas. At nee poeniteat vitales luminis oras Linquere, et inferni visere regna Dei ; Sic cari potero vultus agnoscere fratris, Sic umbrse occurrent ora paterna mese. Adsum, clamabo ; generisque miserriina nostri, Fato Labdacidge stirpe creata prober. The subject of the next tragedy, entitled Les Juiffes, the Jewish women, is taken from the Bible (II Kings, xxiv. xxv. Act 1 . The prophet deplores the defeat of the Jews. The chorus sing a hjTun on the fall of man and on the deluge. Act 2. Nebuchadnezzar, after an arrogant speech, equalling himself to the Almighty, declares to Nehuzaradan, captain of the guard, his intention to punish with death, the rebellion of the king of the Jews, from which that officer in vain endeavours to dissuade him. A chorus on the mischiefs resulting from the Jewish connection with Egypt. Hamutal, mother of Zede- kiah, bewailing her desolate condition, with the Jewish women. ^' ROBERT GARNIER. 201 Ne viendra point le jour que mes langeurs je noye Dansuu sombre tombeau, faite des vers laproye? Helas ! je croy que non, il y a trop long- temps Qu'en vain je le reclame, et qu'en vain je Fattens. Non, 11 ne viendra point, ma peine est perdurable, La mort prompte au secours ne m'est point secourable : EUe me fuit peureuse, et n'ose m'approcher, Son dard, qui ne craint rien, a peur de me toucher. Elle craint les malheurs oii je languis confite, Ou pense qu'immortelle en ce monde j'liabite, Que j'y erre a jamais, m'ayant I'ire de Dieu, Corame dans un enfer, confinee en celieu. (P. 517.) Will there not come a day, when I may whelm In the dark tomb my sorrows, made the prey For worms? Alas ! I think, 'twill never come ; Long time it is since I call for 't in vain, In vain expect it. Oh ! my pains are lasting. E'en death, the general helper, helps not me. Trembling he flees away, nor ventures near me : His dart, that knows no terror, dares not touch me. He fears the evils that enclose me round ; Or thinks I dwell immortal in this world, Sent by God's wrath to wander up and down Within this place of torment, as my hell. The Assyrian Queen commiserates her misfor- tunes, and tries with much delicacy and tenderness to comfort her. The chorus sing a farewell to their native country. — Act 3. While the Queen is inter- ceding with Nebuchadnezzar for the Jews, Hamutal 202 EARLY FEENCH POETS. and the wives of Zedekiah enter ; and at their sup- pUcations, the Assyrian king at length makes a treacherous promise of mercy. The chorus sing a hymn from the psalm " By the Waters of Babylon, &c." — Act 4. Seraiah, the chief priest, represents to the king of the Jews, when he is bewailing the sins and calamities of himself and his people, that nothing is left him but to submit with tranquillity and fortitude to the divine dispensations. Nebu- chadnezzar now enters, and reproaches them with their rebellion. At first, Zedekiah acknowledges his offence, but is afterwards irritated into defiance by the brutality of his conqueror. The chorus in a hymn remember with anguish their former happiness, and contrast it with their present sufferings. The master of the household to the Assyrian king comes to demand the royal children from Hamutal and the wives of Zedekiah. The chorus sing the perpetual iustabiUty of fortune.— Act 5. The Prophet an- nounces to Hamutal and the Queen the cruel murder of the children, whom they had given up as hostages to Nebuchadnezzar. Zedekiah then enters with his eyes put out ; and the Prophet concludes the tragedy by foretelling the deliverance of the Jews by Cyrus, the rebuilding of temple, and the coming of Christ. BRADAMANTE, The last of Gamier' s plays, which is entitled a tragi-comedy, and has no choruses, was suggested, as ROBERT GARXIER. 203 the author says in his preface, by the latter part of the Orlando Furioso. In this he has conducted the plot much more artfully than in any of the rest. — Act 1. Sc. 1. Charlemagne is introduced exulting over the dehvery of his kingdom from the forces of Agramant. — Sc. 2. Nymes, Duke of Bavaria, advises liim to be content ^\-ith his ^ictor)^, and not to pursue further the remains of his routed enemies. The king expresses his design to reward his faithful soldiers, and especially Roger, by miiting him in marriage with Bradamante, whom her parents, Aymon and Beatrix, designed for Leon, son and heir to Constantine, the Grecian emperor ; but in order to secm-e her for her lover, and at the same time not to contradict openly the will of her parents, Charle- magne intends that she shall be the prize of the knight who shall vanquish her in single combat. — Act 2. Sc. 1. Aymon and Beatrix hold a conversa- tion on the intended marriage of their daughter. There is something comic in the pleasm-e with which they express their hopes of getting her off their hands without a marriage portion to the Emperor's son. — Sc. 2. Renaud expostulates with his father on his resolution to force a husband on his sister Brada- mante. The old man falls into a rage, threatens to fight all who oppose his will, and calls to his servant. La Roque, for his arms, at the same time that he can scarce stand for feebleness. — Sc. 3. Beatrix strives to 204 EAKLY FRENCH POETS. wheedle her daughter Bradamante into the match with the Emperor's son. One of the verses that are put into her mouth on this occasion, heing a good translation of the patria est ubicunque bene est, has I think passed into a proverh : Le pays est partout ou I'on se trouve bien. Bradamante parries her mother's attempt very art- fully, and alarms her so much by saying that she will turn nun, that the old lady consents to her marrying Roger. — Act 3. Scene 1. Leon, who had fallen vio- lently in love with Bradamante from the mere report of her beauty, arrives at Paris in the company of Roger, whom, although his enemy, he had freed from prison ; and whom (not knowing him to be his rival) he now engages to undertake for him the single combat which Charlemagne had proposed. Roger's gratitude does not allow him to deny the prince this request, though his granting it will lose him his mis- tress. — Scene 2. Bradamante, in a soliloquy, laments the absence of Roger.— Scene 3. Relying on the prowess of his friend, who is to counterfeit him, Leon speaks confidently of his own success to Char- lemagne, who promises that he will be as good as his word, and give Bradamante to him if he shall con- quer her. — Scene 4. Bradamante, with her attendant, Hippalque, in the presence of Charlemagne, de- clares her contempt of the "debile Gregois," the ROBERT CiARXIER. 205 "jeune efFemine," who aspires to win her hand in the duel ; and her resohition to have no hushand but her old lover.— Scene 5. Roger enters alone, dis- guised in the armour of Leon; and distracted between his love on the one hand, and his obhgations to his friend on the other, determines at last that he will meet Bradamante in the lists, but that he will exert himself no further than to parry her weapon. — Scene 6. Bradamante too comes on the stage alone. She makes a fine speech on French heroism, and re- solves to give her young antagonist no quarter.— Act 4. Scene 1. La Montague, who had been present at the single combat which is supposed to have taken place since the last Act, gives a lively description of it to Aymon and Beatrix, who rejoice at the defeat of their daughter, not doubting but she will now be compelled to espouse Leon. — Scene 2. Roger, in an agony of despair, imprecates curses on his own head for having lost his mistress by conquering her for Leon.— Scene 3. In equal grief at her own defeat, Bradamante professes to her friend Ilippalque that she will die rather than fulfil her engagement, and bitterly laments the supposed absence of Roger. — Scene 4. Dvuing their conversation, Marphise, the sister of Roger, comes in, and Hippalque devises a plan, which is eagerly caught at, for deferring the pro- posed nuptials till Roger's return. It is that Marphise shall represent to Charlemagne the wrong that is 206 EARLY FKENCH POETS. done to lier brother in his absence ; shall charge Bradamante with being secretly betrothed to him, and with having deserted him for her royal suitor ; and shall offer to maintain the accusation by a trial at arms ; that Bradamante shall pretend confusion at this challenge ; and that, in the mean time, Charle- magne will no doubt be induced to suspend the proceed- ings. — Scene 5. The plot is put into execution, and the result is, that Roger, as soon as he makes his appearance again at Paris, is to fight Leon. — Scene 6. Leon proposes to employ Roger, whom he does not yet know to be his rival, to extricate him from this new difficulty ; but is informed by Basile, Duke of Athens, that his friend is no longer to be found in Paris. — Act 5. Scene 1. Leon, who meets with Roger, now discovers who he is, enters into a contest of generosity with him, and insists on yielding Bra- damante to him. — Scene 2. Meanwhile the ambassa- dors of Bidgaria having arrived at the court of Charlemagne, announce that their countrymen had elected Roger for their new king, in recompense of his ha\ing defended them against the Greeks. — Scene 3. Charlemagne acquaints Aymon with the honour conferred on Roger, and thus removes the principal objection to his union with Bradamante. — Scenes 4, 5, 6, and 7- The whole of the precedmg events are explained to the satisfaction of all parties ; the lovers are made happy ; and Charlemagne satisfies Leon for ROBERT GARNIER. 207 the loss of his mistress, by giAring him his own daughter Leonora. Robert Gamier, born at La Ferte-Bemard, 1534, died at Mans, Lieutenant-Geueral of that town. He gained the prize at the Jeux Floraux ; and, in addi- tion to the plays here spoken of, was the author of several other poems which I have not seen. ALAIN CHARTIER. When Margaret of Scotland, Dauphiness of France, was passing through an apartment in which Alain Chartier lay asleep, she went up to him and kissed him. The custom of claiming a new pair of gloves on such occasions was probably not then in use ; for the ladies and gentlemen who attended her expressed their wonder, that she should honour so ugly a fellow with that token of her affection ; and Margaret replied, that she was tempted, not by the beauty of Alain's lips, but by the golden sayings that had proceeded from them. It is painful to think, that so free and gracious a lady should have died of grief occasioned by calumnious imputations on her \^rtue. Male Bouche, as the fiend was then called, never did the world a worse turn. But the tears of her husband. 208 EARLY FRENCH POETS. who was afterwards King of France, with the title of Louis XI. sufficiently, as Henault observes, vindicated her memory. Alain Chartier, who was secretary to Charles VII. father of Louis, was a good poet for his day, or rather, he was an excellent rhymer ; for he will often go on with such a string of like endings, that it would have pozed Touchstone, in spite of his brag that he could rhyme you so eight years together, dinner and supper and sleeping hours excepted, to keep pace with him. " Grand poete de son temps, et eucorplus grand ora- teur," is the evdogium left him by Estienne Pasquier. His Curial and Quadrilogue, the works which, in Estienne' s opinion, entitle him to the praise of being a great orator, would in these days have appeared in the shape of two dry political pamphlets ; but in those they assumed the more inviting form of as many visions. In the first of them, the Curial, Alain, while he is musing on the decline and disasters of France, is suddenly seized by IVIelancholy, a dolefid and squalid female, who, without speaking a word, wraps liim in her mantle and casts him into a bed, where three other females present themselves. These are, Indignation, Distrust, and Despair, whose per- sons are described. Indignation first endeavours to disgust him with the Court ; next Distrust represents to him the forlorn condition of France ; and, lastly, Despair tempts him to seek a refuge from his suffer- ings in death. ALAIN CHAKTIER. 209 Et toy (continues she) pourquoy veulx tu veiller en telle male meschance et vivre en souhaitant la mort tous les jours. La chevalerie de ton pays est perte et morte. Les estudes sont dissipees, le clergie est dis- pers et opprime, la rigle et moderation de honnestete ecclesiastique est tournee avecques le teps en desordon- nance et dissolution. Les citoyens sont despourveus desperace, et descongnoissans de seigneurie par obscurte de ceste trouble nuee, lordre est toumee en confusion et loy en desmesuree violence, juste seigneurie et lioneur descbiet, obeyssace ennuyee, paciece fault tout tube et fond en labysme de mine et de desolation. Fol. 12. Les ociivres feu maistre Alai7i Chartier en son vivant secretaire dufeu Roy Charles Septiesme du nom. Noic- vcllement imprimees reveues et corrigiees oultre les pre- cedetes imjoi^essions. On les vend a Paris en la grant salle du palms au premier pillier en la boutique de Gal- liot du pre Lihrairejure de Luniversite. 1529. " And tbou, why art thou fain to keep watch in tliis evil mischance, and to live on, wishing for death all thy days 1 The chivalry of thy land is destroyed and gone ; studies are routed ; the clergy is dispersed and oppressed ; the rule and government of ecclesiastical decorum is turned with the time into disorder and dissoluteness. The citizens are disfurnished of hope, and inobservant of seignory, through the darkness of this thick cloud ; order is changed to confusion, and law into unmeasured vio- lence ; just seignory and honour are fallen out of their place ; obeisance is wearied out ; patience fails ; every thing is going headlong into the abyss of ruin and desolation." P 210 EARLY FRENCH POETS. He is ready to listen to the suggestions of Despair, when Nature, alarmed at the thoughts- of dissolution, is so \iolently agitated that she rouses up Under- standing, who was sleeping by his side. Understand- ing opens the wicket of Memory, the bolts of which had been held fast by the rust of Forgetfulness : by this three ladies and a very fair damsel immediately enter. The first of these, who is Faith, addresses Understanding, and resolves many doubts which are proposed to her by that personage. Here he takes occasion to inveigh most bitterly against the abuses which had crept into the church. " Dante, poet of Florence, thou, if thou wast still living, wouldst have cause to cry out against Constantine; seeing that in a time when religion was better observed thou wert yet bold to reprehend, and didst reproach him, for having infused into the church that venom and poison, wherewith she should be wasted and destroyed." Fol. 36. Soon after he speaks with a mixture of pity and anger concerning the persecutions which the poor clergy in Bohemia had lately midergone ; becomes eloquent in his indignation against those by whom the churches had been -siolated ; and reproaches the French people with their degeneracy since the days of Charles the Fifth. Deeper questions are afterwards discussed. Hope explains to Understanding in what manner ALAIN CH ARTIER. 211 human passions and perfections are attributed to the Deity, and endeaAOurs to reconcile the free-will of man with the foreknowledge of God. She next declares in plain terms the enormity that had been occasioned by the celibacy of the clergy, and the other crnng sins which were then imputable to the church. The other two ladies, whom he had be- fore introduced, do not continue the conversation, as might have been expected ; and the Curial ends abruptly, with a warning addressed to the author's brother, against the life of a courtier. In this book there are short poetical pieces interspersed, verj' in- ferior to the prose. He tells us, that the unhappiness of his country, and the desire of recalling his fellow-citizens to a sense of their duty, wete the motives which induced him to wTite the Quadrilogue, so named from the four per- sons who are represented speaking in it. Dame France appears to him about the dawn of day — a noble lady, but full of sorrow, and dressed in "wondrous hiero- glyiihic robe." She addresses her three sons, mider whom are figured the populace, the nobility, and the clerffv, and descants on the miseries to which they, in conjunction with foreign enemies, had reduced her. They mutually criminate each other. France pvits an end to their debates, by exhorting them' to concord, and by desiring that their several pleas may be com- mitted to writing, a task which she orders Alain to undertake. 212 EAELY FRENCH POETS. Puis que Dieu ne ta donne force de corps, ne usage d'armes, sers la chose publique de ce que tu peux. Car autant exaulca la gloire des rommains, et renforca leurs courages a vertu la plume et la lague de leurs orateurs, commeles glaives des combatans. — Fol. 139. " Since God hath not given thee force of body or skill in arms, serve thy country in that thou mayest ; for the o-lory of the Romans was as much advanced, and their courage as much invigorated by the pen and tongue of their orators, as by the swords of their warriors." The Belle Dame sans Merci of this poet is known to us from a translation inserted by some mistake among the works of Chaucer, who died when the Frenchman was about fourteen years of age. Tyr- whitt says, that in the Harleian manuscripts, 373, the version is attributed to Sir Richard Ros. Whoever the author of it may be, it is very well done ; and sometimes surpasses the original, as in the following stanza. De puis je ne sceuz quil devint Ne quel part il se transporta Mais a sa dame nen souvint Qui aux dames se deporta Et depuis on me rapporta Quil avoit ses cheveulx descoux Et que tant en desconfurta Quil en estoitmort de courroux. — FoL 199. ALAIN CHaRTIEE. 213 Fro thens he went, but whither wist I nought, Nor to what part he drew in sothfastnesse, But he no more was in his ladies thoug-ht, For to the daunce anon she gan her dresse, And afterward, one told me thus expresse, He rent his heer, for anguish and for paine, And in himselfe toke so great heavinesse, That he was dedde within a day or twaine. Fol. 243, SpegMs Edit. 1602. Here it is evident that the translator must have made use of a manuscript of Chartier's works more correct than the edition of 1529 ; for, instead of dames in the fourth line, he has translated as if it were danses, which was, no douht, the right reading. In another place, this edition of Speght appears to be faulty. De ceste feste je lassay Car joye triste coeur travaille Et lors de la presse passay Si massiz dessoubz une traille Drue et fueillie a grant merveille Entrelardee de saulx vers Se que nul pour cep et pour fueille Ne povoit parveoir au travers. — Fol. 188. To see the feast it wearied me full sore, For heavy joy doeth sore the heart travaile ; Out of the prease I me withdraw therefore. And set me down alone behind a traile. 214 EARLY FRENCH POETS. Full of leaves to see a great mervaile^ With g-reene wreaths ybounclen wonderly The leaves were so thick withouten faile, That throughout no man might me espie. —Fol. 239. Instead of wreaths, the word was probably iviths. The second line, which, in the original, conveys the natural sentiment that "joy is trouble to a heart in sorrow," was evidently misunderstood by the trans- lator. The introduction to the Li^TC des Quatre Dames, written in 1433, is a lively picture of a spring morning, so much in Chaucer's way, that one might suppose it had been copied by that writer, if the images were not such as the poets of the time most delighted to assemble. The four ladies severally lay their griefs before Alain. The first had lost her lover, who was killed at the battle of Agincourt; the lover of the second had been made prisoner ; that of the third was missing, and of the fourth had run away. The poem that approaches nearest to the spright- liness of old Geoffrey, is the Hospital damours, if that be indeed Chartier's, but it is a little strange that he should speak of himself as being interred in the cemetery of the hospital, as he does in these words. Assez pres au bout dung sentier Gisoit le corps dung tresparfait ALAIN CHAETIER. 215 Saige et loyal Alain Chartier Qui en amour fit maint Leau fait Et par qui fut sceu le meffait De celle qui lamant occi Quil api^ella quant il eut fait La belle dame sans mercy. Eutour sa tombe en lettre d'or Estoit tout Fart de retorique. — Fol. 278. " Near, at the end of a path, lay the body of a very comjilete wise and loj^al person, Alain Chartier, who did many a fine feat in love, and made known the mis- deed of her by whom her lover was slain, and whom he called, when he had made that poem. La belle Dame sans Mercy. Round about his tomb in letters of gold was all the art of rhetorick engraven." The following verses, being one of his seven bal- lads on Fortime, may give a fair view of his character as a poet. Sur lac de dueil sur riviere ennuyeuse Plaine de crys de regretz et de clains Sur pesant sourse et melencolieuse Plaine de plours de souspirs et de plains Sur grans estangz darmetume* tous plains Et de douleur sur abisme parfonde Fortune la sa maison tousiours fonde A lung des lez de roche espouentable * A mistake of the press for damertume. 216 EARLY FRENCH POETS. Et en pendant affin que plutost fonde En demonstrant quelle nest pas estable. Dune part clere et dautre tenebreuse Est la maison aux douleureux meschans Dune part riche et dautre soufFreteuse Cest du coste ou les champs sont prochains Et dautre part a assez fruictz et grains La siet fortune on tout en air habonde Dune part noire et delautre elle est blonde Dune part ferme et dautre tresbuchable Muette, sourde, aveug-le et sans faconde En demonstrant quelle nest pas estable. Et la endroit par sa dextre orgueilleuse Qui retenir ne veult brides ne frains Et sa maison doubtable et perilleuse Sont les miscliiefz tous moussez et emprains Dont les delictz sont rompus et enfrains Et les honneurs et g-loire de ce monde Car par le tour de sa grant rue ronde Fait a la fois dung palais une estable Et aussitost que le vol dune aronde En demonstrant quelle nest pas estable. Que voulez vous que je dye et responde Se fortune est une fois delectable Elle sera amere a la seconde En demonstrant quelle nest pas estable. (Fol. 335.) On lake of mourning by the stream of woe, Full of loud moans and passionate distress, ALAIN CHARTIER. 217 By melancholy fountain dull and slow, Full of sad tears and sobbings comfortless, By a great pond surnamed of bitterness. And fast beside th' abyss of grief profound, There Fortune ever doth her dwelling found Upon a hanging ledge of rock unstable, Th' unsurest spot that may in earth be found, Shewing to all that she is never stable. One part is bright, the other most obscure, Of that same dwelling made for mortals vain : One side is rich, the other mean and poor ; Here stretcheth wide a bare unsightly plain. And fields are there that wave with fruits and grain. So Fortune sits abounding all in air. On one side black, on th' other white and fair ; On one part sound, on th' other perishable. Mute, deaf, and blind, as all her deeds declare. Shewing to all that she is never stable. And there in place held by her proud right hand. That scorneth bit or bridle to retain, In her dread dwelling there doth ever stand Conceal'd of dire mishaps a monstrous train ; To beat down sin with well deserved pain. And worldly might and glory to confound ; For at one turning of her great wheel round She of a palace makes forthwith a stable, More swiftly than a swallow skims the ground, Shewing to all that she is never stable . 218 EAKLY FEEKCH POETS. What will ye more ? This is the sum of all : If Fortune smiles at one time favourable, She bring-eth at the next a grievous fall, Shewing- to all that she is never stable. It may be worth while to observe that many of the Chaucerian words are to be found in Alain Chartier, and that he will sometimes assist us in putting the right signification on them. For instance, the word tretis is explained in Tyrwhitt's Glossary, lotig and well proportioned, though it is plain, from a passage in the Regrets d'un Amoureux, that the French word from which it is derived camiot bear that meaning. Sa petite bouche et traictise. (Fol. 325.) Alain Chartier was born in 1386, and died in 1458. CHARLES, DUKE OF ORLEANS. It is now (in 1823) but a few years since the first pubhcation of some French poems, wi-itten at the beginning of the fifteenth century, which not only excel any other of that time that we are acquainted with, but might at any time be regarded as patterns CHARLES, DUKE OF ORLEANS. 219 of natural ease and elegance. What makes this long neglect the more cUfficult to account for, is, that the author of them was a prince, grandson to one of the French kings, father to another, and uncle to a third ; the first, (Charles V.) renowned for his wisdom ; the next, (Louis XII.) for his paternal care of his sub- jects ; and the third, (Francis I.) for his courtesy, and his love of letters. When we are told that the writings of a person thus distinguished had been so long suffered to remain in darkness, it is natural to suspect that some imposition may have been prac- tised on the public respecting them. But there is no ground for such suspicion. They have not been dis- covered by some apprentice boy, in an old church coffer, hke the poems of Rowley, nor by the son of a prime minister, in some other out of the way place, like the Castle of Otranto. The manuscript which contains them, was noticed in the Royal Library at Paris, near a century back, by the Abbe Sallier, who inserted three papers on the subject, in the Memoirs of the Academic des Inscriptions :* Another, from * Tome xiii. p. 580. Tome xv. p. 795, and Tome xvii. Mars. 1742. In the first of the Abbe's papers here referred to, the manuscript in the Royal Library at Paris is thus described. It had belonged to Cathe- rine of Medicis. The arms of Charles, Duke of Or- leans, impressed on the first leaf, tog-ether with those of Valentiua, of Milan, his mother, shewed that Cathe- 220 EABLY FRENCH POETS. which the publication was made, is in the public library at Grenoble ; and, to put the matter out of doubt, a third, of singular splendour, is to be seen in our own national Hbrary of the British Museum. The last of these was once the property of Henry VII. of England, whose daughter Mary was married to the son of the poet himself, the above-mentioned Louis XII. The Abbe Sallier remarks, that if Boileau had seen these productions, he would not have called Villon the restorer of the French Parnassus. I am not sure of this. The palate of Boileau required some- thing more poignant. In these there is as much simplicity as in some of Wordsworth's minor pieces. The chief difference is that these are almost all love verses. En songe, souhaid et penser, Vous voye chacun jour de sepmaine, Combien qu'estes de moy loing'taine, Belle tres loyaument amee. Pour 06 qu'estes la mieulx paree, De toute plaisance mondaine : En songe, souhaid et pensee, Vous voy chascun jour de sepmaine. rine had got it from the library of her husband, Henry II. It contained 131 songs, and about 400 rondels ; and, lastly, a discourse pronounced before Charles VII. in favour of John 11. Duke of Alencon. CHARLES, DUKE OF ORLEANS. 221 Du tout vous ay m'amour donnee, Vous en povez estre certaine : Ma seule Dame souveraine, De mon las cueur moult desiree, En song-e, souhaid et pensee. In dream, and wish, and thought, my Love, I see thee every day ; So doth my heart to meet thee move, When thou art far away. For that all worldly joys above Thou shinest in thy array ; In dream, and wish, and thought, my Love, I see thee every day. No care, no hope, no aim I prove, That is not thine to sway : O ! trust me, while on earth I rove. Thy motions I obey. In dream, and wish, and thought, my Love. {Poesies de Charles cV Orleans, p. 208. Paris, small %vo. 1809.) J'ay fait I'obseque de Madame Dedans le moustier amoureux ; Et le service pour son ame A chante penser doloreux : IMaint cierges, de soupirs piteux Ont este en son luminaire : Aussy j'ay fait la tombe faire, 222 EAELY FRENCH POETS. De regrets tous de larmes paints ; Et tout en tour moult ricliement Est escript: Cy g-ist * vraiement La tresor de tous biens mondains. Dessus elle gist une lame Faiste d'or et de saffirs bleux : Car saflBr est nomme la jame De Loyaute et Tor cureux : Bien luy ajjpartiennent ces deux ; Car Eure et Loyaute pourtraire Voulu en la tres-debonnaire, Dieu qui la fist de ses deux mains Et forma merveilleusement ; C'estoit a parler plaiuement Le tresor de tous biens mondains. N'en parlous ^dIus, mon cueur se pame, Quant il oyt les fait vertueux D'elle qui estoit sans nul blame, Comme jurent celles et ceulx Qui congnoissoient ses conseulx. Si croy que Dieu I'a voulu traire Vers luy, pour parer son repaire De paradis, oii sont les saints : Car c'est d'elle bel parement. Que I'on nommoit communement Le tresor de tous biens mondains. * In the MS. of the British Museum, it is, Cy giit bravement, which is a better reading. CHARLES, DUKE OF ORLEANS. 223 De rien ne servent pleurs ne plains ; Tous mourrons tart ou briefvement, Nul ne peust garder longuement Le tresor de tous biens mondains. (P. ^S?.) To make my lady's obsequies My love a minster wTOught, And in the chantry, service there "Was sung- by doleful thought ; The tapers were of burning sighs, That light and odour gave ; And sorrows, painted o'er with tears, Enlumined her grave ; And round about, in quaintest guise, "Was carved : " "Within this tomb there lies The fairest thing in mortal eyes." Above her lieth spread a tomb Of gold and sapphires blue ; The gold doth shew her blessedness. The sapphires mark her true : For blessedness and truth in her "Were livelily portray'd. When gracious God with both his hands Her goodly substance made : He framed her in such wond'rous wise, She was, to speak without disguise, The fairest thing in mortal eyes. No more, no more : my heart doth faint "When I the life recal 224 EARLY FRENCH POETS. Of her, who lived so free from taint, So virtuous deem'd by all : That in herself was so complete, I think that she was ta'en By God to deck his paradise. And with his saints to reign ; For well she doth become the skies, Whom, while on earth, each one did prize The fairest thing in mortal eyes. But nought our tears avail, or cries : All soon or late in death shall sleep : Nor living wight long time may keep The fairest thing* in mortal eyes. En la forest d'ennuieuse tristesse, Un jour m'avint qu'a par moy cheminoye ; Je rencontray I'amoureuse deesse. Qui m'appella, demandant ou j'aloye. Je respondy, que par Fortune estoye Mis en exil, en ce bois long-temps a ; Et qu'a bon droit appeller me povoit, L'homme esgare qui ne scet oii il va. En souriant par sa tres-grant humblesse My respondy : amy se je scavoye Pourquoy tu es mis en ceste destresse ; A mon pouvoir voulentiers t'aideroye : Car ja pieca je mis ton cueur en voye, De tout plaisir, ne S9ay qui Pen osta : Or me desplait qu'a present je te voye, L'homme esgare qui ne scet ou il va. CHAKLES, DUKE OF OKLEANS. 225 Helas ! dis-je, souveraine princesse, Mon fait s§avez ; pourquoy le vous diroye? C'est par la mort qui fait a tous rudesse, Qui m'a tollu celle que tant amoye ; En qui estoit tout I'espoir que j'avoye ; Qui me guidoit si bieu, m'accompaigna En son vivant ; que point ne me trouvoye, L'homme esgare qui ne scet ou il va. Aveug-le suy, ne s^ay oii aller doye : De mon baston afin que ne forvoye Je vay tastant mon cbemin ca et la : C'est grant pitie qu'il convient que je soye L'homme esgare qui ne scetou il va. (P. 230.) One day it chanced that in the gloomy grove Of sorrow, all alone my steps I bent ; So met I there the mother queen of love, Who call'd me, asking whitherward I went. Fortune, quoth I, in exile hath me sent Within this wood long time to weep my woes : Well mayst thou name a wight so sorely shent, The wilder'd man that wots not where he goes. She smiled, and answer'd in her lowliness : Friend, if I knew why thou dost hither stray. Thee would I gladly help in thy distress, In the best manner that in sooth I may : For erst I put thy heart in pleasure's way ; Nor aught I ken from whence thy grief arose. It irketh me to see thee here to-day. The wilder'd man that wots not where he goes. 226 EARLY FRENCH POETS. Alas, quoth I, my sovran lady dear, Thou knowst my hap : what need I tell it thee '? Death, that doth reave us of all treasures here, Hath taken her who was a joy to me, Who was my guide, and held my company, In whom I did my only hope repose. Long- as she lived ; not fated then to be The wilder'd man that wots not where he goes. I am a blind man now, fain to explore, AVith staff outstretch'd this way and that before, Feeling the path that none unto me shows. Great jiity 'tis I must be evermore The wilder'd man that wots not where he goes. Le temps a laissie son menteau De vent de froidure et de pluye, Et s'est vestu de broderye, De soleil riant, cler etbeau. II n'y a beste, ne oyseau, Qui en son jargon ne chante et crye ; Le temps a laisse son menteau De vent, de froidure et de pluye. Riviere, fontaine et ruisseau Portent en livree jolie, Gouttes d'argent d'orfevrerie ; Chascun s'abille de nouveau, Le temps a laissie son menteau. (P. 257.) CHARLES, DUKE OF ORLEANS. 227 The Time hath laid his mantle by Of wind and rain and icy chill, And dons a rich embroidery Of sun -light pour'd on lake and hill. No beast or bird in earth or sky Whose voice doth not with gladness thrill. For Time hath laid his mantle by Of wind and rain and icy chill. River and fountain, brook and rill, Bespangled o'er with livery gay Of silver droplets, ^vind their way : So all their new apparel vie ; The Time hath laid his mantle by. En regardant ces belles tieurs. Que le temps nouveau d'amours prie ; Chascune d'elle s'ajolie Et farde de plaisants couleurs. Quant embasmees sont d'odeurs, Qui'l n'est cueur qui ne rajeunie, En regardant les belles fleurs Que le temps nouveau d'amours prie. Les oyseaulx deviennent danseurs Dessus mainte branche fleurie, Et font joyeuse chanterie De centres, de chants et teneurs En regardant ces belles fleurs. (P. 2d8.) 228 EARLY FREKCH POETS. In blinking at the bonny flowers When April them to love doth wooe, And all shine brighter in the bowers, And all are deck'd with colours new ; No heart there is but youth restores Amid their breath of balmy dew, In blinking at the bonny flowers. When Aj^ril them to love doth wooe. The birds are dancing in their glee Upon the twigs mid blosmy showers ; There sing they loud in their chauntrie Counter and tenor merrily, In blinking at the bonny flowers. The life of Charles, Duke of Orleans, might fiu'- nish the materials for a romance, or rather for several romances. He was bom on the 26th of May, 1391. His father, Louis Duke of Orleans, the second son of Charles V. was married in 1389 to Yalentina, daughter of the Duke of Milan. After the death of Charles, France was distracted by factions. The minority of his son, Charles VI. made it necessary that a regency should be appointed. His four imcles contended for this distinction. The King had not been long of age, when the frequent fits of lunacy, to which he was liable, again made him incapable of ruUng except only at intervals. His brother Louis now put in his claim to a share in the government, and CHARLES, DUKE OF ORLEANS. 229 in the disputes wliich ensued between him and two of the uncles, the Dukes of Berri and Burgimdy, Louis was assassinated by the orders of the latter in the Rue Barbette at Paris, on the 23rd of November, 1407. A formal and feigned reconcihation took place at Char- tres iu a year or two after between the families of the murderer and the murdered ; but Valentina died of grief at seeing the death of her husband mii'evenged. A tissue of odious intrigues is entangled with these horrors. The Duke of Burgundy was supposed to be partly instigated by jealousy of his wife to the commission of his crime, for which there was the less excuse as that very wife was the favoiu-ite of the King, as he himself was the paramour of the Queen, the infamous Isabel. At the age of sixteen, Charles of Orleans had married a daughter of this King and Queen, of the same name with her mother, and widow of Richard 11. of England. In three years after (1409) his con- sort died. Thus before the age of twenty he found himself not only an orphan but a widower. A second marriage with Bonne, daughter of the Count of Ar- magnac, involved him in new troubles. The Count had put himself at the head of a faction opposed to the Duke of Bm-gundy, and from him called the Armagnacs. A short truce for a while suspended these differences ; till the Count de Saint Pol, who was governor of Paris, determined on driving out of 230 EAELY FRENCH POETS. the capital all those who were not in the interest of the Duke of Burgundy, and for that purpose united a band of 500 bravoes who were called the Cabochiens, from Caboche, a butcher, one of the principal amongst them. In an enl hour, either Charles of Orleans or his father-in-law sought assistance from the English.* The consequence of this ill-ad\ised measure was the battle of Agincourt, in which it so happened that the Duke himself fell into the hands of the invaders ; for the King of France had, in the meantime, declared against the Duke of Burgmidy, and Charles was therefore now fighting on the side of the King against those very enemies whom he had himself invited. In the field of Agincourt he was found lying amongst a heap of slain, with some signs of life in him, by a valiant soldier of the name of Richard Waller who brought him to Henry V. Waller being desired by that monarch to take charge of his prisoner, on their return to England, confined him in his own mansion at Groombridge, near Timbridge, in Kent. This mis- fortime did not come alone, for at the same time he lost his second wife. Bonne of Armagnac. How long * In the paper by the Abbe Sallier, inserted in the Memoires de I'Academie des Inscriptions, tom. xv. p. 795, are some curious particulars of an embassy by Jacques le Grant into England, sent by the Orleans or Armagnac party. CHARLES, DUKE OF ORLEANS, 231 he remained in Waller's custody is not known ; but he had time enough to rebuild the house that was assigned for his habitation. His piety also led him to contribute to the repairs of the neighbouring church of Speldhurst, over the porch of which we are told by the historians of the county that the arms of the Duke caiTed in stone are still to be seen.* From John, the second son of this Richard Waller, were descended the Wallers of Beconsfield, of whom I conclude the poet Edmmid to have been one. Before the eighth year of Henry VI. as Hasted, in his History of Kent informs us, the Duke had been committed to other custody ; for it was that year enacted in Parliament that the Duke of Orleans, the King's cousin, then in the keeping of Sir Thomas Chamberworth, Knight, should be delivered to Sir John Cornwall, Knight, to be by him safely kept. There is even some doubt as to the time which his cap- tivity in this country lasted ; but the best accounts, I think, make it twenty-five years in all. During this time he acquired such a taste for our language, as to compose some verses in it. The Abbe Sallier men- tions his having wTitten only two short pieces in English ; but in the manuscript of his poems in the * See Harris's History of Kent, vol. i. p. 292, and Hasted's History of Kent, vol. i. p. 431. 232 EAKLY FRENCH POETS. British Museum I have found three.* They are as follows. I give them not as bemg particularly good, but because any verses written in our language by a foreigner at so early a time, that is, very soon after the death of Chaucer, may be regarded as a curiosity. Go forth, my hert, with my lady ; Loke that ye spar no bysines To serve her with such lolyness, That ye gette her oftyme prively That she kepe truly her promes. Go forth, &c. * A large collection of English poems attributed to Charles, Duke of Orleans, is among the Harleian MSS. in the British Museum, (No. 682); they were printed by Mr. Watson Taylor for the Roxburgh Club, in 1827, as appears by an article on these poems in the Gentle- man's Magazine for May 1842, p. 459. The writer of that article is mistaken : he says, " We have only to add that the opinion of Sir Thomas Croft that the English poems now printed in the Roxburgh volume, are not by Charles, but are translations from his French poems by another bard, is not, as far as we can learn, received by the learned in these matters :" for in the " Collection des Documens inedits sur I'bistoire de France, p. 70, (4" Par. 183.3.) it is observed of this MS. " Ce manuscrit contient la traduction Anglaise de lajjlupart des poesies de Charles d'Orleans, executee par un contemporain. L'on n'y trouve rien qui puisse autoriser a croire qu'elle soit du prince lui-meme ; ainsi M. Watson Taylor, qui a publie ce recueil, n'a-t-il aucune raison solide a apporter pour justifier le titre qu'il lui a donne, titre que nous avons rapporte ci-devant." — Ed. CHARLES, DUKE OF ORLEANS. 233 I must, as a helis body, Abyde alone in hev3mes ; And ye slial dwell with your mastris In plaisaunce glad and mery. Go forth, &c. By helis body, I suppose is meant one deprived of health or happiness. The word occurs in Chaucer, but with a difference in the spelling and quantity. A wig'ht in torment and in drede And healelesse, Troilus and Creseide, Book V. fol. 180, Ed. 1602. My hertly love is in your governas, And ever shal whill that I live may. 1 pray to God I may see that day That ye be knyt with trouthful alyans. Ye shal not fynd feyning or variaunce As in my part ; that wyl I truly say. My hertly, &c. Bewere, my trewe innocent hert, How ye hold with her aliauns, That somtym with word of plesuns Resceyved you under covert. Thynke how the stroke of love comsmert* Without warnjTig" or defSauns. Bewere my, &c. * Query, for can smart, or comes smart. 234 EAULY FRENCH POETS. And ye shall pryvely* or appert See her by me in loves dauns, With her faire femenyn contenauns Ye shall never fro her astert.f Bewere my, &c. From these strains, it would appear as if the young widower had been smitten by some English lady, during his long abode amongst us. Soon after his release, he married Mary, Princess of Cleves, by whom he had one son, Louis XII. of France, and two daughters, Mary, the wife of Jean de Foix Vicomte de Narbonne, and Joan, Abbess of Fontevrault. He had another daughter by his first wife, who was also named Joan, and was married to the Duke of Alen- qon. Among those who most joyfully welcomed his return to his native country, was his illegitimate brother John, the brave Count of Dunols, by whom the English were expelled from Normandy. Ou the death of Filippo Maria Visconti, Duke of Milan, (in 1447) Charles made an ineffectual attempt to recover that inheritance in right of his mother, who was sister to the Duke. * Prive and apert is in Chaucer, Cant. T. CG96. In private and in public. Tyrwhitt's Glossary. t Astert. Chaucer Cant. T. 1597, 6550. To escape, Tyrwhitt's Glossary. CHARLES, DUKE OF ORLEANS. 235 At the accession of Louis XL to the crown of France, he was so mortified by the dissimulation of that monarch, that he retired in disgust from the court. He died on the first of January, 1466, in his 75th year. Besides his poems and the speech dehvered in favour of the Duke of Alcn^on, there are remaining some of his letters, addressed to the " good cities" of France, or to the king. They are dated from Gergeau sur Loire, July 14, 1411, and are thus described by Juvenal des Ursins, who refers to them in the History of Charles VL " Lettres longues et assez prohxes, et faites en bel et doux langage."* The writer of a memoir, prefixed to his poems, adds that his tomb, which was in a chapel of the Celestines, at Paris, has escaped the ravages of time and of the revolution, and is to be found in the de- pository of French monuments, in the Rue des Petits Augustius. * See the paper by the Abbe Sallier. Memoires de I'Academie des Inscriptions, t. xvii. Mars. 1742. 23fi EARLY TRENCH POETS. FRANCOIS VILLON. The praise bestowed by Boileau on Villon, and still more the pains taken by Clement Marot, at the instance of Francis the First, to edit his poems, would lead us to expect great things from them ; but in this expectation most English readers will pro- bably be disappointed. For while Alain Chartier is full as intelligible as Chaucer, and Charles Duke of Orleans more so, Villon (who wrote after both) can scarcely be made out by the help of a glossary. Even his editor, Marot, who, as he tells vis in the preface, had corrected a vast number of passages in his poems, partly from the old editions, partly from the recital of old people who had got them by heart, and partly from his own conjectures, was forced to leave several others untouched, which he could neither cor- rect nor explain. One cause of the difficulty, which we find in reading Villon, is assigned by Marot, in a sen- tence that shows his knowledge of the true principles of criticism. " Quant a Tindustrie des lays qu'il feit en ses testamens pour suffisamment la congnoistre et entendre, il faudroit avoir este de son temps a Paris, et avoir congneu les lieux, les choses et les hommes FRANCOIS VILLOX. 237 dont il parle ; la memoire desquelz tant plus se pas- sera, tant nioins se congnoistra icelle Industrie des ses lays dictz. Pour ceste cause qui voudra faire une oeuvre de lougue duree, ne preigne son soubject, sur telles choses basses et particulieres." Les (Euvres de Francois Villon, a Paris, 1/23, small 8to. "As to the address with which he has distributed his lega- cies, in the poems called his Wills, to understand it sufficiently one should have been at Paris in his time, and have been acquainted with the places, the things, and the persons of whom he speaks ; for by how much more the memory of these shall have been lost, so much less shall we be able to discover his dexterity in the distribution of these bequests. He who would compose a work that shall last, ought not to choose his subject in circumstances thus mean and parti- cular." The truth is, that Villon appears to have been one of the first French writers who excelled in what they call Badinage, for which I do not know any adequate term in our language. It is something between wit and buffoonery. Less intellectual and refined than the one, and not so gross and personal as the other, in reconciling, it in some degree neutralizes both. To an Enghshman it is apt to appear either ridicidous or insipid ; to a Frenchman it is almost enough to make the charm of life. One of the chief causes of Villon's popularity 238 EAULY FREKCH POETS. must however have arisen in the great number of French families whom he has mentioned in his two Wills, generally for the purpose of ridiculing certain individuals who belonged to them. A list of these, containing upwards of eighty names, is prefixed to these two poems. His "Petit Testament," which was written in 1456, he supposes to have been made on the following occasion. Being heartily tired of love, and thinking there was no other cure for it but death, he repre- sents himself as determined on leaving this world, and accordingly draws up his will. His " Grand Testament" was framed in a more serious conjuncture. In 1461 he was committed to prison at Melun, together with five accomplices, for a crime, the nature of which is not known. But whatever it were, he intimates that he was tempted •into it by his mistress, who afterwards deserted him. He remained in a dungeon and in chains, on an allow- ance of bread and water, during a whole summer, and was condemed to be himg ; but Louis XI. (who had then newly succeeded to the throne), in considera- tion, as it is said, of his poetical abilities, merci- fully commuted his punishment into exile. He is, perhaps, the only man whom the muse has rescued from the gallows. The hardships he had suffered during his confinement brought on a premature old age ; but they taught him, he says, more FRANCOIS VILLON. 239 wisdom than he could have learned from a com- mentary on Aristotle's ethics. Travail mes lubres sentimens Ag^ixisa (ronds comme pelote) Me monstrant plus que les commens Sur le sens moral d'Aristote. — Ih. p. 14. " Trouble has sharpened my lubberly thoughts (be- fore as round as a bullet) ; shewing- me more than the comments on Aristotle's Ethics could have done." The first place at Avhich he foimd a refuge was St. Genou, near St. Julien, on the road leading from Poitou into Bretague. Here he was reduced to such extremity, that he was forced to beg his bread ; and if the fear of his Maker had not restrained him, he declares he should have put an end to himself. There is httle known of what happened to him af- terwards. He probably met with some lucky turn of fortmie ; for Rabelais mentions his hanng been in favour with Edward V. of England, and his dying at an advanced age. From what has been said of the pecuUar vein of his genius, the reader will perceive, that it is scarcely capable of being fairly represented in another lan- guage. His happy turns of expression, smart perso- nahties, and witty inuendoes, would tell very indiffe- rently at second hand. A short ballad out of the 240 EAULY FRENCH POETS. Grand Testament, being more general, may be attempted. Ballade, des Dames du Temps Jadis. Dictes moy, ou, ne en quel pays Est Flora la belle Romaine, Arcbipiada, ne Tbais Qui fut sa cousine Germaine ? Ecbo parlant quand bruyt on maine Dessus riviere, ou sus estan Qui beaulte eut trop j^lus que bumaine ? Mais ou sout les neiges d'antan ? Ou est la tressag-e Helois ? Pour qui fut cbastre (et puy Moyne) Pierre Esbaillart a Sainct Denys Pour son amour eut cest essoyne. Semblablement ou est la Royne, Qui commanda que Buridan Fut jette en ung- sac en Seine ? Mais ou sont les neiges d'antan I La Royne blancbe com me ung lys Qui cbantoit a voix de Sereine, Bertbe au grand pied, Bietris, Allys, Harembouges qui tint le Mayne, Et Jebanne la bonne Lorraine Que Angloys bruslerent a Rouen. Ou sont ilz, vierge souveraine ? Mais ou sont les neiges d'antan? FRANCOIS VILLON. 241 Prince n'enquerez de sepmaine Ou elles sont, ne de cast an, Que ce refrain ne vous remaine Mais ou sont les neiges d'antan ? BALLAD, OF THE LADIES OF PAST TIMES. Tell me where, or in what clime, Is that mistress of the prime, Roman Flora ? she of Greece, Thais I or that maid so fond, That, an ye shout o'er stream and pond. Answering holdeth not her peace ? — "Where are they ? — Tell me, if ye know ; What is come of last year's snow ? Where is Heloise the wise. For whom Abelard was fain. Mangled in such cruel wise, To turn a monk instead of man ? Where the Queen, who into Seine Bade them cast poor Buridan ? — Where are they? — Tell me, if ye know ; What is come of last year's snow ? The Queen, that was as lily fair. Whose song-s were sweet as linnets' are, Bertha, or she who govern'd Maine? Alice, Beatrix, or Joan, That good damsel of Loraine, Whom the English burnt at Roan ? — Where are they? — Tell me, if ye know ; What is come of last year's snow ? T!. 242 EAELY mENCH POETS. Prince, question by the month or year; The burden of my song is here : —Where are they ?— Tell me, if ye know ; What is come of last year's snow ? While he was under sentence of death, he wrote some verses in which there is strange mixture of pathos and humour. They begin thus : Freres humains qui apres nous vivez, N'ayez les cueurs contre nous endurcis. Car si pitie de nous pouvres avez, Dieu en aura plustost de vous merciz ; Vous nous voyez cy attachez, cinq, six, Quant de la chair, que trop avons nourrie EUe est pie^a devoree et pourrie, Et nous les os, devenons cendre et pouldre ; De nostre mal personne ne s'en rie, Mais priez Dieu que tous nous vueille absouldre. (P. 93.) brethren, ye who live when we are gone, Let not your hearts against us harden'd be ; For e'en as ye do pity us each one, So gracious God be sure will pity ye ; Here hanging five or six of us you see ; As to our flesh, which once too well we fed. That now is rotten quite, and mouldered ; And we, the bones, do turn to dust and clay : None laugh at us that are so ill bested, But pray ye God to do our sins away. FRANCOIS VILLON, 243 The epigram on liimself, when he was condemned, is more ludicrous. Je suis Francois (dont ce me poise) Ne de Paris, empres Ponthoise, Or d'une corde d'une toise Scaura mon col que mou cul poise. Let us hope that it was no heinous offence for which he could suffer with so much gaiety. The Petit Testament is very short, not much more than 200 verses. In the drollery, such as it is, of this fancied disposal of property, made with no other view than that of raising a laugh at the legatees, he has had a crowd of imitators. The Grand Testament, besides many items of the same kmd, includes several ballads and rondels, which one of his commentators not unreasonably supposes to have been \\Titten separately, and afterwards classed under this common title, for they have no apparent connexion with the main subject. His other writings consist chiefly of a few ballads in the language D' Argot, or as we should call it, slang. Clement Marot found them unintelligible, and left them to be expoimded by Villon's successors in the art of knavery. I have not heard that any of them have undertaken the task. Indeed it would be a betrayal of their secrets, as little for their common good, as if a Romish priest were to translate the in- 244 EARLY FKENCH POETS. vocation of the Saints, or a physician his recipes, out of the Latin into the vernacular tongue. Of the Repues Frauches, which has been sometimes attributed to him, it is decided that he is not the author but the hero. Villon was born at Paris, in 1431, of mean pa- rentage, as appears from the following stanza in his Grand Testament : Pauvreje suys de ma jeunesse De pauvre et de petite extrace, Men pere, n'eut onq' grand' richesse, Ne son ayeul nomme Erace, Pauvrete tous nous suyt et trace, Sur les tumbeaulx de mes ancestres (Les ames desquelz Dieu embrasse) On n'y voyt couronnes ne sceptres. (P 21.) Poor am I, poor have alway been, And poor before me were my race : No wealth my sire possess'd, I ween, And none his g-randsire, bight Erace : Poortitb our steps doth ever trace : O'er my forefathers' humble graves (The souls of whom may God embrace) No crown is hung, no sceptre waves. The time of his death is not known. 245 FRESNAIE VAUQUELIN. It is one strong mark of difference between the poets who wrote under the Valois race of kings and those under the Bourbons, that the former have much more of incli\-idual character than the latter. Fres- naie Vauquehn is an instance of this among many others. He hved, indeed, a few years after the ac- cession of Henry IV., the first of the Bourbons, but he belongs properly to the Valois. His name is now scarcely known ; yet his works may be read with pleasure, if it were for nothing else than the insight they give into his manners, his way of thinking, and his fortmies in life ; for he was no common man. At a very early age, he wTote and published his Foresterie, in which, as he boasts more than once, he was among the first to set his countiymen the example of mingling verse with prose. toutefois dire j'ose. Que des premiers aux vers j'avoy mesle la prose. Les Diverses Poesies du Sieur de la Fresnaie Vau- quelin. A Caen, par Charles Mace, Imprimeur du Roy, 1612, small 8vo. p. 90, and p. 621. Some years after, in a bookseller's shop, he acci- dentally met vfith this juvenile production, which he 246 EAllLY FEENCH POETS. had supposed to be lost (p. 621). In the Idyl, ad- dressed to Samt Francois, Bishop of Bayeux, where the incident is mentioned, he speaks of his intending to reprint it. I know not whether he ever did so ; nor whether any copy of the first impression is yet remaining. His volume of poems, to which I have referred, is closely printed, and consists of the Art Poetique, in three books ; Satires, Idyls, Epigrams, Epitaphs, and Sonnets. His Art Poetique, or Art of Poetry, is more than three times as long as Boileau's. It was undertaken at the command of Henry III. to whom at the end he addresses it, in a few modest verses, that contrast strongly with the rhetorical flourish sounded by Boileau at his con- clusion to Louis XIV. Je composoy cet art pour donner aux Frangois : Quand vous, Sire, quittant le parler Polonnois, Voulutes reposant dessous le bel ombrag-es De vos lauriers gag-nez, polir vostre langage, Ouir parler des vers parmi le dous loisir De ces Cloestres devots ou vous prenez plaisir. (P. 120.) These strains preceptive I for Gallia sung, When you, Sire, quitting Poland's harsher tongue, Wish'd, as beneath your laurels you recline, With a new grace our language to refine, Well pleased to hear the muse recite her tale In the loved leisure of your cloister'd pale. FRESNAIE VAUaUELIX. 24/ It must sound something like profaneness to a Frenchman to hear these two writers spoken of together : yet I would venture to say, that with all Boileau's good sense and flowing numbers, there is very Uttle to be found in his Art of Poetry which had not been said quite as well before by Horace ; and that mde as Vauquehn may appear in the com- parison, he gives us at least, what we have some right to expect in a French Art of Poetry, more informa- tion concerning the vernacular poetry of France. I shall notice a few particulars of this sort, which are the most remarkable as coming from a wTiter ot his time. He claims for the Troubadours or Provencal poets the invention of the sonnet. Ces Trouveres alloient par toutes les Provinces Sonuer, chanter, danser leur rimes chez les princes, Des Grecs et des Remains cet art renouvele, Aux Francois les premiers ainsi fut revele : A leur exemple prist le bien disant Petrarque De leurs g-raves Sonnets I'ancienne remarque, En recompence il fait memoire de Rembaud, De Fouques, de Remon, de Hugues et d'Aarnaud. Mais il marche si bien sur cette vielle trace, Qu'il orna le Sonnet de sa premiere grace : Tant que I'ltalien est estime I'autbeur, De ce dont le Francois est le premier inventeur. (P, 20.) 248 EARLY FRENCH POETS. These minstrels •went with dance, and song-, and sport, Throug'h every province to each prince's court. The art, recover'd thus from Greece and Rome, First g'ain'd in joyful France another home. From their example Petrarch learnt to chime With no new round the Sonnet's varying rhime. In recompense he keeps remembrance due Of Raymond, Arnault, Rambauld, Fulk, and Hug-h ; But trod so deftly in their ancient trace, He g-ave the Sonnet a peculiar g'race. And hence doth Italy her claim advance To that which owes indeed its birth to France. He then proceeds to compliment Ponthus de Thiard, Maurice Sceve, Saint Gelais, Bellay, Ronsard, Baif, and Desportes. His zeal for the honour of his country leads him yet further in the following lines. De nostre Cathelane ou langue Provencalle La langue d'ltalie et d'Espagne est vassalle : Et ce qui fist priser Petrarque le mignon, Fut la grace des vers qu'il prist en Avignon, Et Bembe reconnoist qu'ils ont pris en Sicille La premiere facon de la rime gentille, Que I'on y fut planter avecques nos Romants, Quand conquise elle fut pas nos Gaulois Normands, Qui faisoient de leurs faits inventer aux Trouverres Les vers que leurs Jouglours, leurs Contours et Chan- terres Rechantoient par apres. — (P. 21.) FRESNAIE VAUQLELIX. 2-19 Thus are the tongues of Italy and Spain Vassals to our Provence and Catalaine ; And darling Petrarch his chief honour won From that sweet verse he learnt in Avignon. And learned Bembo from Sicilia owns His country took the rhyme's alternate tones, Which thither first our old romancers bore, When Gallia's Normans sought the fruitful shore : Conquering, the bade the Troubadours rehearse Their feats of prowess, which in answering verse Their own rude jugglers gave them back again, And wandering fablers caught the heroic vein. Another species of poem, called the Syrventez, which he claims for the Provencals, will be more readily conceded to them than the sonnet, which is now generally allowed to be of Italian origin. Et comme nos Francois les premiers en Provence Du Sonnet amoureux, chanterent I'escelence D'avant I'ltalien, ils ont aussi chantez Les SatjTes qu'alors ils nommoient Syrventez, Ou Sylventois, un nom qui des Sylves Eomaines A pris son origine en nos forests lointaines. — (P. 65.) " And as our French in Provence first brought the amorous sonnet to perfection, before the Italians, so were they the inventors of the satirical poems, which they then called Syrventez, or Sylventois, a name that in our sequestered forests took its origin from the Sylvse of the Romans." 250 EAKLY FKENCH POETS. Gray, in his Observations on English Metre, speaking of the Itahan Terza Rima, observes that it was probably the invention of the Provencals, Avho used it in their Syrvientes (or Satires) whence the Italians have commonly called it Serventese.* Vauquelin considers the verses of eight feet as best adapted to French comedy. His account of the Alexandrine metre is the same as that which is com- monly given. Nos long's vers on appelle Alexandrins, d'autant Que le Roman qui va les prouesses contant D'Alexaudre le grand, I'un de neuf preux de I'age, En ces vers fut escrit d'un Romanze langage. (P. 22.) "Our long" verses they call Alexandrines, because the Romance which recounted the exploits of Alexander the Great, one of the nine worthies of the age, was written in this measure." The old Romances of the French, he observes, had been returned to them by the Italians and Spaniards, like a stolen horse, that has had his mane trimmed, and his tail and ears cut, and is then sold to the right owner for a new one. (P. 73.) He recommends to the French poets the occasional use of proA"incial words, a Hcence at which the whole * Works of Thomas Gray, 2 vols. 4to. London, 1814, vol. ii. p. 21. FRESNAIE VAUQUELIX. 251 court of Loiiis XIV. would have shuddered (p. 13) ; but the advice is aftei-wards qualified. (P. 71.) In speaking of the tragic writers, he mentions his ha\'ing been present at the representation of Jodelle's Cleopatre. (P. 76.) The manner in which he describes the difference between the ode and the song, has, I think, been imitated by Boileau. (P. 23.) In one point he differs widely from Boileau, and that is that he earnestly recommends sacred subjects for poetry, whereas Boileau is as lu-gent on the other side, and would have his disciples confine themselves to the heathen mythology. A strong religious feel- ing is indeed one of the most striking features in the character of this poet. Wliat shall we say to his pre- sentiment of the evils which were aftenftards to befal his country from the prevalence of atheism ? France, faut il encor que ces debordements Troublent de tes Francois les beaux entendements 1 Et que cela te soit un menacant presage De te voir saccagee un jour par quelque orage, Tout ainsi que la Grece ? arriere ces mortals Qui vont de I'Eternel blamant les saints autels. Et vraymeut tu serois, O France, bien ingrate (Toy qui n'as seulement, xm Platen, un Socrate, Ains I'Evangile saint, que le grand Denis D'Athenes aporta qui nous a tous benis) 252 EAELY FRENCH POETS. Ne remerciant Dieu, qui dedans ta poitrine A grave de son doy cette sainte doctrine. Satyre a Charles de Bourgueville Escuyer, S^^c. stir un Livrede V Immortalite de VAme. (P. 414.) And shall these wild excesses, France, infest Thy noble sons, and shake their firmer breast 1 A threatening- presag-e, that some direful storm One day shall far and wide thy realm deform, As erst in Greece ! Avaunt, ye baser crew, That rob the Eternal of his honour due. O France, what vile ingratitude were thine, (On whom not only doth the radiance shine From Socrates derived and Plato's page, Those lights vouchsafed to a less favour'd ag-e. But that thrice blessed Gospel, which of yore Saint Denis brought from Athens to thy shore,) If thou thankst not thy Maker, who hath graved This holy doctrine in the heart he saved. In the satire addressed to his poetical friend, Pou- thus de Thiard, Bishop of Chalons, (p. 422) he speaks with much freedom of the enormities that prevailed among the higher orders of the clergy, whose luxury, avarice, and ambition, he considered as the chief cause of the evils which had arisen from the Lutherans. To his piety was joined its proper accompaniment, a manly and independent spirit that would not suffer him to comply with the arbitrary maxims of the day. FKESXAIE VAUaUELIN. 253 Amongst other hindrances to his advancement at court, he mentions it as one, I could not tax one Brutus for the deed That from a Tarquin's pride his country freed, Nor so commend great Caesar, as to blame The second patriot of that noble name. Je na scauroy blamer du premier Brute Contre Tarquinla vengeance tres-juste: Je ne s§auroy louer Cesar si fort Que d'avouer que 1' autre Brute eut tort. Satyre a Ph. de Nolent Chevalier Sr. de Bomhamille. (P. 267.) In his satires he has borrowed largely from Horace and Ariosto. From the eighth satire of the latter, he has got that ludicrous, but licentious tale, which Prior copied in his Hans Carvel (p. 363) ; from his third satire, the hvely story of the mag-pie (p. 208) ; and a good deal more ; this among the rest : Le chardronnet fredonne sa chanson Bien enferme comme dans un buisson : Le rossignol dure a peine en le cage : Et I'arondelle en un jour meurt de rage. (P. 204.) Mai puo durar il rosignuolo in gabbia; Piu vi sta'l cardellino, e pin il fanello ; La rondine in un di vi muor di rabbia. 254 EARLY FRENCH POETS. The nig-litingale but ill endures the cage : The linnet and the finch live longer there : But in one day the swallow dies of rage. To the "Beatus lUe" of Horace he is indebted for the mould into which he has cast a very pleasing description of the life of a French country gentleman (p. 223) ; and to his Epistles (1. i. 7) for the story of the weasel (p. 232). I take these as the first in- stances that occur to me of his numerous imitations. He complains bitterly of the little esteem in which the best verses were held in his time. Puis que les grands au jambon de Maj-ence, Au cervelat, donnent la preference Sur mile vers qui leurs sont presentez, Ne rendans pas leurs esprits contentez : Qu'ils prisent plus la poire bergamote, La parpudelle et la bonne ricote, Le marzepain et le biscuit bien fait, Que de Ronsard le carme plus parfait. Satyre a J. A. De Bdif. (P. 292.) Since now our great men give the preference To a rich sausage or a ham from Mentz, O'er all the bard can oifer, who in vain May strive to soothe them with his dulcet strain : For more they prize a pear, sweet bergamot, Orjargonel; a luscious apricot ; Marchpane, or biscuit nicely baked, by far, Than the most perfect measures of Ronsard. FRESNAIE VAUaUELIN. 255 I take parpudelle, \^•hich is not found in the French glossaries, to be the name of sonie fruit known in Normandy, where Vauquehn hved. The word mar- zepain, marchpane, is also to be observed as being employed by our own writers of that age, though the French lexicographers hare it not. In one of his Idyls (p. 590), he repeatedly uses the exclamation ' oif, oiF,' in the same manner as we do. Like the rest of his poetical brethren, he everywhere acknowledges the supremacy of Ronsard, though Malherbe, who introduced a new style, had by this time got a great name. I remember one place, though I cannot refer to it, where he thus distinguishes them. La douceur de Malherbe, et I'ardeur de Ronsard. The satire addressed to Scaevole de Sainte Marthe (p. 173) contains an interesting liew of their early friendship and studies, when they strayed together on the banks of the Clain ; his regrets for the quiet and innocence of the past, and his impatience of the chicanery in which the profession of the law had en- gaged him. In that preceding it, he describes him- self as glad to escape from Caen, where his legal employment usually confined him, and to wander in the woods and hsten to the nightingales beyond Falaise. Je ne pourroy jamais estre a men aise Si bien souvent traversant par Falaise, 256 EAELY FRENCH POETS. Je ne quittoy de Caen le beau sejour, Pour mieux ouir de Rossingols I'amour Dedans nos bois, visiter nos ombrages, Et les detours de nos sentiers sauvages : Et remarquer des Peres anciens L'iuuoceut age en nos Parroissiens. Satire a Monsieur de Tiron. (P, 163.) The first satire of the fifth hook is very animated. At the conclusion of it he unexpectedly passes to the gay and pleasant. In the next but one, addressed to Monsieur de la Boderie (p. 391), the miseries of the war with the Huguenots are depicted with a strong pencil and much feeling. The last of the satires, to Bertaud the poet, gives an affecting account of the author's state of mind, occasioned by the condition to which France was then reduced. Regnier is the only Frenchman whom Boileau has thought worthy of being enumerated among his predecessors in the art of writing satire. It would have been no disparagement of his otvh dignity, if he had vouchsafed a word of VauqueUn. He might, at least, have said of him what Horace did of Lucilius. Ille velut fidis arcana sodalibus olim Credebat libris ; neque, si male cesserat, usquam Decurrens alio, neque si bene : quo fit ut omnis Votiva pateat veluti descripta tabella Vita senis. FRESNAIE VAUaUELIN. 257 In him as certain to be loved as seen, The soul stood forth, nor kept a thought within. Pope. But it is on his Idyls that this writer should rest his pretensions as a poet. They are often touched with a light and delicate hand. In the preface to them he has, in his simplicity, laid down a definition of the Idylhum, at which one cannot help smiling. He says, it represents Nature ' en chemise.' I am sorry to say he has not always left her even this slight covering, and that there are things from which a stricter eye must turn aside. Inquiring once of a young and amiahle French scholar, who seldom went without a volume of Plato, or some book of divinity, in his pocket, which of the modem poets were ac- counted the best, I was told that Parny was the one who excelled all others in elegy. Accordingly on my next visit to Paris, I got a Parny ; but had not turned over many leaves, before I charged my informant with ha\ing recommended to me a book that was not fit to be read. His answer was that Parny was not at all worse than some of the Greek and Latin poets, whom he knew no scholar scrupled to read ; and I could plainly perceive that he thought there was something of puritanism in the objection. I could not however agree with him in ranking his favourite modem among such good company. The voluptuous- ness of Paray is covered with a veil of sentiment s 258 EARLY FRENCH POETS. that renders it more dangerous than theirs. They have no fine arts of seduction. Their grossness is too palpable to slide into the mind tmperceived. So it is also with Vauquelin. He is not rotten at the core. His lovers, in spite of all their excesses, are still, as he call them, ' fermes et loyaux am ants !' But I have no thoughts of entertaining my reader with any thing in this way. To the following (the 77th Idyl of the first book) no exception can be made. Ombreux vallons, cl aires fontaines, Ruisseaux coulants, forests hautaines, Ou Philanon eut doucement De Philis maint embrassement ; Vivez heureux, et la froidure Ne vous depouille de verdure ; Ne jamais, beaux vallons, I'Este Ne vous nuise, en son aprete : Jamais les bestes pasturantes, Fontaines, ne vous soient nuisantes : Ne jamais, Ruisseaux, vostre cours Ne tarisse dans vos detours ; Ni jamais sur vous la coignee Ne soit, Forests, embesogTiee : Et jamais ne naissent aussi Les lous a nos troupeaux ici : Mais tousiours la bande sacree Des Nymphes en vous se recree : Tousiours, Pan pour vous habitei", Veuille son Menale quitter. FRESNAIE VAUQUELIN. 259 Shady valleys, tumbling floods, Crystal fountains, lofty woods, Where Philanon hath often prest Loved Phillis to his jDanting breast, Blessed be ye : never air Of winter strip your branches bare ; Lovely valleys, parching' heat Never soil your g-reen retreat : Never hoof of herd uncouth, Fountains, break your margin smooth: Streams, your windings never lie By the dog-star scorch'd and dry : Nor ever woodman's axe intrude, Forests, on your solitude : Nor the wolf be ever here To scare your flocks with nightly fear : But still the Nymphs, a holy quire, To your haunts for peace retire : And Pan himself, with you to dwell, Bid his Maenalus farewell. There is somethin"; very like this in Fletcher's Faithful Shepherdess,* which I think Warton has commended as couveying images more natural and more proper to this comitry than Milton's imitation in the Comus. * But the scene of the Faithful Shepherdess is laid in Thessaly. 260 EARLY FRENCH POETS. The three last Idyls of this book are religious. The concluding one is addressed to PhiUis (who it appears was his own wife), after a union of forty years. I have compared his version of Virgil's first Eclogue (p. 534) with part of it translated by Malfi- latre (who was also a native of Caen) and by Gresset; and am persuaded that he has caught the tone of the Mantuan better than those modems. A sonnet in praise of Virgil, or rather of two brothers of the name of Chevalier who had trans- lated Virgil, will not so well stand the comparison with that by Angelo Costanzo, from whom he has borrowed it. Cette douce Musette, ou sur les claires eaux Du beau Mince jadis Dafnis et Ma^libee Cbantoient des chants si beaux, qu'onques Alfesibee N'en ouit sur Menale entonnerde si beaux: Depuis qu'avecquesvoixettonsun peu plus bauts EUe eut celebre Pale et I'beureux Aristee, Et du bon fils d'Ancbise eut la gloire cbantee, L'exil et le voyage et les divers travaux, A ce cbesne elle fut par son pasteur sacree, Ou le vent luy fait dire : aucun plus ne m'agree, De men seul grand Tytire est men desir content : J\lais estant toutefois des Chevaliers toucbee, Elle permet que d'eux soit son anche emboucbee : Et sous leurs vers Frangois, Fran9oise elle s'entend. (P. 623.) FUESNAIE VAUaUELIN. 261 Quella cetra gentil, che in su la riva Canto di Mincio Dafni e jNIelibeo, Si che non so, se in Menalo, o in Liceo In quella, o in altra eta simil s'udiva ; Poiche con voce jsiu canora, e viva Celebrate ebbe Pale, e Aristeo, E le grand' opre, che in esilio feo II gran figliuol d'Anchise e della Diva : Dal sue pastore in una quercia ombi'osa Sacrata pende, e se la muove il vento. Par che dica superba e disdegnosa : Non sia chi di toccarmi abbia ardimento ; Che, se non spero aver man si fainosa, Del gran Titiro mio sol mi contento. For a translation of this I must refer to the London Magazine, for July, 1821. Amongst his epitaphs are fomid. inscriptions for Budgeus ; Paulus Jovius ; the poet Marullus ; Pico da Mu-andola ; la Peruse ; Tahureau* (a poet of those times whom he has celebrated elsewhere) ; Bel- lay ; Belleau ; Dorat ; Ronsard ; Bai'f ; Toutain (another poet who lived at Falaise, and died about 1585) ; Roussel (whose excellence in Latin poetry he has highly extolled in his Art Poetique, p. 105, and * Jacques Tahureau was born at Mans in 1525, and died there in 1555. I have not seen any of his produc- tions, which are said to consist of odes, sonnets, and facetious dialogues. 262 EARLY FRENCH POETS. who was a lawyer at Caen) ; Charles IX. ; the two brothers Chevalier, who translated Virgil ; N. Michel (a physician, a Greek and Latin poet), and Gamier. Thirty-three of his sonnets are on a young lady ac- cidentally burnt to death at a festival at Rouen. The concluding sonnets are on sacred subjects. Among these there is one fine one on the star in the east. P. 741 . From one of his satires (p. 181), written in his forty-fifth year, we collect the following particulars concerning this poet. He was bom in the year when Francis I. conquered Savoy, that is, in 1535. His family name was perhaps derived from the Val d'Eclin, then corrupted to Vauc-Elin, where his ancestors had hved. They followed WilUam the Conqueror into England ; as their names left in Gloucester and Clarence, and their armorial achieve- ments to be found in those places, testified. They afterwards intermarried with many noble families in France, the names of which he recounts. His father died at thirty years of age, and left him an only child and heir to an estate deeply involved, which his mother freed from all incumbrances. He was sent for his education to Paris, where he studied under Turnebus and Murctus. He knew Baif, adored Ronsard, and honoured du Bellay, with whom he was better acquainted. In liis eighteenth year he made an excursion in the company of Grimoult and Toutain, to the banks of the Loire, the Sarte and the fRESNAlE VAUQUELIX. 263 Mayenne ; in Angers, he saw Tahureau ; and in Poi- tou, Sainte Marthe ; both of whom he speaks of with much enthusiasm. He now wrote his Foresterie, as has been before mentioned; but soon after deserted his poetical studies for the law, married a virtuous lady, and succeeded to a good property that had be- longed to her father. During the troubles in France, he was employed confidentially by the governors of the province (Normandy), chiefly on the recommenda- tion of Desportes, He was of a moderate stature ; of a disposition somewhat jo^•ial ; bald ; a little inclined to be choleric, but soon pacified. This is what he tells of himself. He was afterwards made president of a court of judicature, called the Presidial, at Caen ; and died in 1606. Like our Congreve and Gray, he had no ambition to be known as an author. De tout temps j'ay hay de Poete le nom, N'estant assez scavant pour avoir ce renom. (P. 308.) In the preface to his satires, written a little before his death, he speaks with contempt of the antithetic and pointed style, which had lately gro\ATi into esteem in France. 264 EAKLY FRENCH POETS. AMADIS JAMYN. It is entertaining enough, after reading the poems of Ronsard, to look into those of Amadis Jamyn, his page, who has quite as much of the airs of his master as one in that station ought to have. In imitation of his master, he has three mistresses, after whom he names three of his hooks, (there are five books in all,)— Oriana, christened after the mistress of Amadis of Gaul ; Artemis, and Callirhoe. Like Ronsa;rd, he pays his compliments in verse to the French monarchs, Charles IX. and Henry III. ; the former of whom, I believe, appointed him his secretary. Through great part of the first book, he is lavish in his encomiums on these princes, particu- larly on Charles, whom he praises equally for his wisdom, poetiy, beauty, and courage. The Poeme sur la Chasse au Roy Charles IX., being an animated description of the chase, may be read with more pleasure than the rest of these pieces of flattery. Like Ronsard, he dresses himself out in patches that he has purloined from the Greek, Latin, and Italian poets. His best things indeed are translations ; such are those from Horace, at fol. 68, O nanre dans AMADIS JAMYN. 265 la mcr. — Fol. G9, Ou ou mechaus vous ruez-vous ainsi? — Fol. 95, L'aspre Hper se deslie au gra- cieux rctour, — Fol. iii, Une horrible tempeste a ride tous les cieux. — From Petrarch, at fol, 138, En quelle idee estoit I'exemple beau.* — And fol. 148, Fleurs, campagnes et prez que vous estes heureux.f There is a pretty description of a valley, into which he has transplanted the flowers and the nymphs from Theocritus. La s'habilloit de bleu I'EcIaire arondeliere, L'Adiante non moite et le Gramen noiieux Et le Trefle croissant par les pastis berbeux. La dansoit Calliree et Eunice et Malis, Qui blanches effa^oient les marbres bien polis. (Les Oeuvres Poetiques d'Amadis Jamyn. au Roy de France et de Pologne. a Paris de I'Imprimerie de Robert Estienne, Par Mamert Patisson M.D.LXXV. 4to. fol. 126 and 127. ITept ^£ ^pva TToXXct TrefvKT), Kvaveov rt ytXicoviov, -^otpov TadiavTov, Kai ^aWovTU aeXiva, /cat £tXtre>'?)c aypuxxTig' Y^ari cey fxirrao) Nu/u^at ^opov apri^ovTO-, Nuju^at uKoifiriToi, ceipoi Sreal aypoiwTaig, Euvfi/ca, Kut MaXte, £ap.&' opouiaa '^v)(^eia. Idyll, 13, V. 45. • In qual parte del ciel, in quale idea, f Lieti fieri, e felici e ben nate erbe. 266 EARLY FRENCH POETS. There sprang' each herb of scent or colour fine, Green maidenhair and bluish celandine, The tufted parsley and lush meadowsweet. And many a nymph a choral round did beat Amid the waters, footing it amain ; The sleepless nymphs, dreaded by shepherd swain ; Eunice, Malis, and Nycheia fair As springtime. He has at times even a livelier flow of numbers than Ronsard ; but he has not near the same depth, learning, or variety. I have seen only a few lines extracted from his translation of the Iliad and Odyssey. They have his usual freedom and facility of verse. More might have been said for him, if he had left many such productions as the following sonnet : POUR UN JEU DE BALLE FORCEE. Voyant les combatans de la Balle forcee Merquez de jaune et blanc I'un I'autre terracee, Pesle-mesle courir, se battre, se pousser, Pour gaigner la victoire en la foule pressee. Je pense que la Terre a I'egal balancee Dedans I'air toute ronde, ainsi fait amasser Les hommes aux combats, a fin de renverser Ses nourissons brulans d'une gloire insensee. La Balle ha sa rondeur toute pleine de vent : Pour du vent les Mortels font la guerre souvent, Ne remportant du jeu que la Mort qui les domte. AMADIS JAMYX. 267 Car tout ce inonde bas n'est qu'un flus et reflus, Et n'aprennent jamais a toute fin de conte, Sinon que cette vie est un songe et rien plus. (Fol. 77.) When I behold a foot-ball to and fro Urged by a throng of players equally, Who run pell-mell, and thrust and push andthro-R", Each party bent alike on victory ; Methinks I see, resembled in that show. This round earth poised in the vacant sky, Where all are fain to lay each other low, Striving by might and main for mastery. The ball is filled with wind : and even so It is for wind most times that mortals war ; Death the sole prize they all are struggling for : And all the world is but an ebb and flow ; And all we learn, when as the game is o'er. That life is but a dream, and nothing more. Amadis Jamvn died in 1578. 208 EARLY FRENCH POETS. PIERRE GRINGORE. I AM half inclined to hand over Pierre Gringore to the lovers of the Gothic letter. There are three of his volumes before me, which would probably have great attractions for them. Their titles are as follows. 1 . Les Abus du mode nouvellement Imprimes a Paris. 8vo. (no date.) 2. Contreditz du Prince des Sots autrement dit Songecreux, On les vend a Paris en la rue neufue nostre dame lenseigne sainct Nicolas. The table of contents is wanting at the conclusion of this copy ; and with it the date also, which according to De Bure is 1530. 3. Notables enseignemes Adages et proverbes faitz et composez par Pierre Gringore dit Dauldemont He- rault dai*mes de hault & puissant seigneur monsieur le Due de Lorraine, Nouvellemet reveuz et corrigez. Avecques plusieurs austres adjoustez oultre la prece- dente Impression. On les vend a Lyon cheulx 01i\ier Amoullet. 16mo. 1538. PIERRE GRINGORE. 269 De Bure gives the titles of twelve more of these treasures ; and on one of them, for its rarity the most precious of all, he expatiates at great length. It is No. 3269 in his catalogue, and is called, Le Jeu du Prince des Sots et Merc Sotte, mis en rime Franqoise ; par Pierre Gringore, ou Gringoire ; et joue par per- sonnaiges, aux Halles de Paris, le Mardy gras de I'annee, 1511. in 16 gotiq. From the accomit given of it, it appears to have been a sort of comedy, or rather farce, divided into four separate parts. A copy of it, preserved in the King's Library at Paris, is said to be the only one then known. I have not discovered whether a Duessa has since appeared to dispute the homage paid to this Una. In the Bib- Hotheca Parisiana, No. 252, there is at least a manuscript copy of it. Besides all these, there is yet another book attri- buted to Pierre, which is not in black letter, and which in De Bure, No. 3036 with an asterisk, is erroneously said to bear the name of Octa^ien de St. Gelais in the title-page, unless mdeed the title-pages of all the copies were not the same. This is Le Chasteau de Labour, auquel est contenu ladresse de richesse, et chemin de pouurete. Les faintises du monde. Imprime a Paris pour Galliot du Pre, 1532, 8vo. After a prologue setting forth the author's design, he thus enters on his subject. 270 EARLY FRENCH POETS. En ung beau jardin delectable Rempli d'arbres, derbes, de fleurs Vis ung- jeune enfant amiable Sentir, fleurer, g-ouster odeurs, Fleurettes de plusieurs couleurs Luy presentoit dame Jeunesse, Question nestoit de douleurs, Mais de tout plaisir et Hesse. Pres de luy estoit Chastiement, Xing' maistre descolle dhonneur, Qui luy remonstroit doulcement Comme au disciple le recteur, Et disoit qui ne prent labeur II vit comme une brute beste. Le jeune enfant du bon du cueur Descouter Chastiement sapreste. (Fol. 4.) " In a fair pleasant garden, filled witli trees, herbs, and flowers, I saw a lovely young child enjoying the sweet odours. Dame Youth presented to him many a floweret of divers hue. Of sorrow there was no thought, but all was pleasure and gladness. Near him was Chas- tisement, a master of a school of honour, who remon- strated with him gently, as a teacher with his scholar. He told him, that one who labours not, lives like a brute beast. The young child sets himself with good heart to listen to the words of Chastisement." Jeune Enfant, in spite of this good advice, gets into many difficulties, which are described as allegorical PIEKRE GRINGORE. 271 personages, and some of them touched not ^vithout spirit. The dress of Jemie Enfant himself is thus painted : II estoit vestu de vert gay- En facon de gone nouvelle, Aussi gent comme ung papegay Est, quant le prin temps renouvelle. {FoL 10.) Yclad in a green mantle gay Of newly fangled gore was he, As gent as is a popingay That sits in springtide on the tree. Here we have four Chaucerian words in as many lines; "gore," "gent," "popingay," and " reno- velen." The first of these gave Tyrwhitt some trouble to explain. He does not seem to have been aware of the manner m which the old French writers used it. It occurs again in this poem. Vit venir ung homme de nom ALille en (jorre nouvelle, Et tenoit ce gentil mignon Par la main une damoyselle. Gorrierement le saluerent Et illeur rendit leur salut. — (Fol. 8.) La femme met I'homme a raison, II luy fault riches paremens, En gorre selon la saison. — {FoL 19.) 2/2 EARLY FBENCH POETS. Fa\'in, in his Theatre d'Honneur, torn. i. p. 714, (as quoted by Roquefort, in the Glossary of the Ro- mance tongue) gives the name of Grande Gorre to Isabeau, of Baviere, "pour se bobander en habits a I'Allemande," "from her flaunting in clothes made after the German fashion." The last verses I have cited, are in the description which Franc Arbitre, Free-Will, gives the Jeune Enfant of a wife, when lie is obstinately bent on marriage. Marry, however, he will ; and, as the lady proves a " Grande Gorre," " a lady of fashion," according to Franc Arbitre' s prediction of her, the difficulties of Jeuue Enfant are thus completed. When he is ready to sink under them, there appears to him a lady, quite of another sort, who delivers him out of them all. This is no less than the Blessed Virgin, whom the author calls also " Reason." At the beginning of the French Revolution, the philosophers thought they were freeing themselves from all their old superstitions when they wor- shipped, in the person as it is said of a common woman, the Goddess of Reason ; though they were, in fact, relapsing into a very old superstition, only stripped of all that was decorous and affecting to the imagination. The Virgin, or Reason, gives Jeune Enfant some excellent advice ; which is further enforced by the admonitions of a grave old man, called " Entendemeut," " Understanding ;" but all PIEREE GRINGORE. 2/3 is like to prove of no avail, in consequence of the arrival of one who comes up dressed in the garb of a lawyer. Ce seig-neur que je diz, estoit Vestu comrne ces advocatz ; Ung Chapperon forre pourtoit, Robbe traiuante jusque en bas. — {Fol.ol.) This lord of whom I spake was clad In likeness of an advocate ; On head a cope of fur he had, And trail'd behind a robe of state. This is " Barat," " Barrateria," Ital. " Baratry" in our old law language, accompanied by his clerk " Tricherie" " Treacher}^" and his valet " Hoquel- lerie" "Chicanery." "Hoker" and " Hokerly" are words in Chaucer, which, as well as our word "Hukster," are probably of the same stock with this. This goodly trio are endeavouring to seduce Jeune Enfant from his duty, but their ill intentions are de- feated by " Reason," who is reinforced by a man and woman in plain garb, the one named " Bon Cueur," the other " Bonne Voulente ;" " Good Heart," and " Good Will ;" brmging with them "Tallent de bien faire" " Desire of Well-doing." These lead him to the castle of Labour. "Peine" "Pain," the lady of the castle, inquires of " Soing" " Carefulness," the porter, who the new comer is, and from whence. T 274 EARLY FRENCH POETS. Vient il d'Angleterre ou de Romme ? — Fol. 77. " Comes lie from England or from Rome ?" He declares his willingness to be employed ; and " Peine" tells him that her husband " Travail" " "Work" will see how he executes his task, and re- ward him accordingly. He has much to do, and fares hard ; but is well satisfied with his lot, till, at last, finding his hunger grow importunate, he is told by "Work" that he may go for a while to " Repose," who will feed him better, and allow him a little pastime. " Soing" and " Cure," " Carefuhiess" and " Heed," let him out of the castle, not without some good advice, and a pluck of the ear from each. He tells his wife of all that had befallen him, speaking of it as if it were a dream. She would fain dissuade him from his gopd resolutions, but he determines not to listen to her, and concludes with a prayer that he may have firmness to persevere. The style is of the homeliest throughout ; but there is the good meaning of the writer, worthy the age of Louis the Just, and here and there an arch phrase, or a quaint old word, cunningly set, to repay the reader for his trouble. Much the same may be said of his three other books which I mentioned before. The first, "Les Abus du Mode Nouvel," is a strange farrago. Near the beginning, mdeed, (leaf the third, for the book is not paged) there is some- PIERKE GRINGORE. 275 tiling better. It is the description of his musing himself to sleep at a Uttle tillage, lulled by the song of a nightingale ; and is quite in the taste of Chaucer. At waking, he hears most dreadful cries, uttered by many " honourable persons ;" and " a gay spirit," named " Entendement," "Understanding" appears, and furnishing him \\ith pen, ink, and paper, bids him commit to writing the visions he sees. A church then rises before him, built in strange guise; through the door of which a cruel and dangerous man is thrusting himself by force. He holds a spit " broche" with crosses, mitres, abbeys, and bishoprics on it, which two women are endeavouring by force or sleisht to drive into the church. "Entendement" launches forth into an invective against the abuses of the clergy. This is followed by a satire on the other vices of the time. At length, Louis XII, appears to him with Justice at his side ; and he sees in a vision the conquest obtained by that monarch over the Venetians in 1509 ; and is proceeding to enlarge on the affairs of Italy, when Entendement says to him properly enough : Laisse ses g'uerres et puissantes victoires Aux croniqueurs pour mettre par histoire. "Leave his wars and mighty conquests for chro- niclers to record." He then goes on to satirize the hypocrites (or 276 EARLY FRENCH POETS, bigots as he calls them) of both sexes ; and, from them, passes to the barbers, physicians, apothecaries, dancers, mummers, astrologers, gamesters, chemists, searchers after the pliilosopher's stone, forgers, priests, notaries, &c. &c. In the last leaf, the book is presented to Jaques nomme de Touteville, comi- sellor and chamberlain to the king. The next, the Coutreditz du Prince des Sots, &c. consists of arguments for and against the different trades, professions, and modes of hfe. These are in- troduced by Fantasy's conducting him to the forgery of Pallas, where he sees the apparatus that had been used for fabricating all the great writings in ancient times ; among the rest, the Speculum Vitse of Ro- deric Zamora. Oultreplus je trouvay encore Ce feu tout chault ou puis nag-uere Avoit fait Roderic Zamore Ce mirouer humain par sainct pere De lespaignolje prins matiere Si parfond et si largement Que jen ay faictle fondement. — {Fol. 4.) And furthermore still there I found The fire all hot, where not long since Roderic of Zamora did found His human mirror : by heaven's prince, Matter so large and so profound I from that Spaniard's learning took, That I thereon have wrought my book. PIERBE GRINGORE. 277 There were no less than five editions of the Spe- culum Vitse Humanse, besides a French translation of it, before the conclusion of the fifteenth century. The arguments on Merchandise, fol. 37, are in prose ; as is great part of the second book, de I'Estat civil. The tyranny of fashion over the Courtier's Ufe is one of the most entertaining things in this work:— Fol. 171. Towards the end, there is a brief eulogy on Saint Louis, and on the reigning monarch, Louis XII. The last of the above-mentioned books, the Nota- bles enseignemes, &c. is, as the title imports, a col- lection of adages and proverbs : all of these are m quatrains. I should take this edition to be scarce : for De Bure has only the first (No. 3028 with an asterisk, m his Bibliograpliie) printed at Paris, with- out date : but this has many additions. There is much wisdom in these, as there is in most sayings of this kind ; but few readers I doubt are now willing to be at the trouble of " understanding a proverb, and the interpretation ; the words of the wise and their dark saymgs." A scantling of these therefore will suffice, and they shall be such as, to make them the more palatable, contain some curious intimation of the manners and customs of those times. Aucuns plaisirs prefient de estre servilles Par trop aymer champs villages et bourgs Autres desir ont frequenter les cours Mais benistz sont les habitans es villes. {Notpagcd.) 278 EAKLY FRENCH POETS. Some, choose the lowly villain's servile state, Their love of fields, and thorps and burghs so great ; Others prefer the court : but blest are they Who safe in towns do pass their lives away. Aucuns y a sans raison ne propos Qui es maisons escrissvent leurs devises Noms et surnons en diflPerentes guises ; Murailles sont paintes des mains des sots. There are who fondly do their houses paint With signs armorial trick'd in colours quaint, And names and surnames mark'd in divers scrolls ; These are walls pictured by the hands of fools. Limprudent meine et tient dessus ses mains Chiens et oyseaux oyant messe a leglise En ce faisant dieu servir ne se advise Devotion trouble aux autres humains. Unwise the man who heareth mass, I wist. With hound in leash, or hawk upon his fist ; He comes not into church to worship there. But to disturb his neighbours at their prayer. A la cliquette on congnoist les lepreux, Et au pourceau lymage sainct Anthoine, Lhabit bigot ne fait le devot moyne, Ne le harnoys Ihomme hardy et preux. The lepers by the warning clack are known. As by his pig Saint Anthony is shown ; The inky cloak makes not the monk devout, Nor trappings proud the soldier brave and stout. PIEKEE GKINGORE, 279 Qui veut Bcavoir au soir et au matin Les differens des noyses ou querelles II doit aller pour ouyr des nouvelles Ches les barbiers au four ou au moulin. He who at mom and eve would duly know How news and scandal with his neighbours go, May of such idle chit-chat have his fill At barbers' shops, the oven, or the mill. Pierre Gringore died about the year 1545, / THE END. G. 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