For me must be revived again I pray you, then, renew for me The charm that made you doubly fair; Urging resistlessly my prayer With him, for whose loved sake, I swear, THE DREADED VOYAGE. I SEE the anchored bark with streamers gay, But winds and waves and skies alike betray; Others who to their flattery dared confide, And late when stars were bright sailed forth in pride, Now breathe no more, or wander in dismay. I see the trophies which the billows heap, Torn sails, and wreck, and graveless bones that throng The whitening beach, and spirits hovering round: Still, if for woman's sake this cruel deep I must essay-not shoals and rocks among, THREE LADIES. THREE high-born dames it was my lot to see, And so akin in act, and look, and air, So charmed me, that I loved her, and became Was turned elsewhere, it was but to admire EFORE the close of the sixteenth century the critical spirit characteristic of France had manifested itself in literature. Italian words and forms of expression had invaded the French vocabulary; conceits and plays on words had vitiated the style; nor was it redeemed, on the other hand, by the turgid grandiloquence which was imported from Spain. The grammarian Malherbe became the reformer of the language. He went so far as to condemn the vigorous poetry of the Pléiade, and secured its banishment from polite literature. The brilliant society of the Hôtel de Rambouillet, in which the pompous Balzac (1594-1654) and the ingenious Voiture (1598-1648), as well as Malherbe, were leaders, exercised a severe censorship on the language and works of authors. The great critic Boileau-Despréaux satirized freely, yet justly, the faults of his contemporaries, but he also reasoned out, with admirable lucidity, the laws of poetry, according to French notions. His critical work was assisted by the newly-founded French Academy, though that honored tribunal and the highminded critic were far from agreeing in their particular judgments. By their efforts, however, the principles of correct writing became generally recognized in France, and eventually rules, more or less rigid, were almost slavishly observed by writers, great and small, even after the grand catastrophe of the Revolution had overthrown almost everything of the old régime. In the early part of the seventeenth century a peculiar style of pastoral romance had remarkable vogue. A typical example is Honoré D'Urfé's "L'Astrée," which was regarded as to some extent a delineation of the court of Henry IV. King Euric, Galatée, Daphnide and Alcidon had living prototypes easily recognized. The affected language which was put in their mouths went far beyond the English euphuism in its departure from simplicity. Madeleine de Scudéry (1607– 1701), who was known as "Sappho" in the vocabulary of the Précieux, wrote other court romances, the "Grand Cyrus," and "Clélie" which though interminably tedious have a nominal fame. Seigneur La Calprenéde (d. 1663) was less successful with his "Cassandre," "Cléopâtre," and "Pharamond.” To the same time belonged the renowned philosopher, René Descartes (1595-1650) whose works were written chiefly in Latin, but whose "Discours sur la Méthode” (1637) contributed to the improvement of French prose, and is a model of philosophical eloquence. Blaise Pascal (1623-1662) achieved fame by his "Provincial Letters," in which he attacked the Jesuits, and by the fragments of a greater work on Christianity, which was interrupted by his death, and published by his friends under the title "Pensées." The easy-going, simple-minded poet, La Fontaine (1621– 1695), devoted himself with modest pride to the reconstruction of the Æsopic fable, and achieved his task with such consummate grace, that he may be regarded as the French creator of that department of literature. Besides his Fables he published licentious "Contes" and his "Théâtre," which exhibit the same pleasing style, yet are seldom read. But the great dramatists are the chief glory of the seventeenth century in France. The humanists of the Renaissance had sought to revive the ancient classical drama. Jodelle was truly the father of the French classical tragedy. He obtained from King Henry II. the use of the courtyard of the Hôtel de Reims, in which romantic spot his Græco-Gallic dramas were enacted before the crushed throng of gay courtiers and sober scholars who gazed on his tragedy from the mullioned framework of the palace windows. With the predominant Italian atmosphere of the de Medici reign in France the scene must have seemed for all the world like a true Renaissance revival of "the glories that were Greece." Ronsard himself sang the praises of Jodelle, who thus "Françaisement chanta la grecque tragédie" (sang in French fashion the Greek tragedy). But Jodelle's plays were Pindaric in style rather than Sophoclean. The iambic recitations are interspersed with occasional choruses properly divided into strophe, antistrophe and epode. In "Cleopatra Captive” (in which Jodelle himself took the role of Cleopatra) a good example of this Jodellian drama may be seen. Antony is already dead, and it is his ghost which appears to the mourning Cleopatra. The chorus thereupon laments the fickleness of fate. Octavian expresses a desire to carry off the Egyptian queen; whereupon the chorus bewails the evils of pride. Later it chants the vicissitudes of fortune. When Octavian is finally informed of the suicide of Cleopatra, the Alexandrian women cry: "O stern mishap! mishap, alas, too stern! Thousand times stern, and thousand times too stern!" Such is the actionless, half-lyrical, and utterly artificial tragedy which passed down as a heritage through Robert Garnier (1545-1601) to Corneille. Alexandre Hardy (1560-1631) attempted to construct a national drama in imitation of the successful contemporary English and Spanish examples, but failed. Comedy had, however, sprung into existence, bands of strolling players visiting French towns. Pierre Corneille, who was to become the greatest of French classical tragic writers, began by writing comedies. After proving his ability in this line, he turned to Seneca, and produced a French version of the "Medea." But the Spanish theatre furnished him a better model in Guillen de Castro's play of "The Cid." Numerous and radical changes had to be made before this complicated play could be conformed to the principles which Corneille regarded as essential. But when, after prodigious labor, the "Cid" was produced, it was instantly successful, and became henceforth the standard of the French drama. As the play ended happily it was called at first a tragi-comedy. The "Cid" was criticised by the Academy at the instigation of Richelieu, but its popularity was undiminished. Corneille resorted to ancient history in his "Horace," treating of the famous fight of the Horatii and the Curiatii; and in "Cinna," dealing with a conspiracy against Augustus. After some other classical dramas, he drew from Spanish sources his fine comedy "Le Menteur" (The Liar) and his "Don Sancho." Other classical plays of varying merit followed, until in 1670 he and Racine were pitted against each other in writing a Roman play. The "Berenice" of the younger dramatist secured the approval of the public. Corneille, however, persisted in writing plays. His critical dissertations on the "Cid" and on the drama in general are of value to the student. His versification of Thomas á Kempis's "Imitation of Christ" won for him a new popularity. Throughout the brilliant reign of Louis XIV. the theatre was the chief literary centre. Racine succeeded to the glory of Corneille. His tragedies were less declamatory and excelled in action, though he never rose to such lofty heights as his predecessor. The stage of these two great dramatists has been well described by the eminent English critic, A. W. Ward. That learned authority remarks: "In the progress of the dramatic genius of Corneille may be traced the movement of the French nation from a period of struggles to one of monarchical order and grandeur; and Racine reflects the serene calm, satisfied with the acceptance of fixed forms and pervaded by the spirit of religiosity, which characterizes settled periods of a national history. . . Herein at least the age of Louis XIV. in France resembles the Periclean age of Athens: that in the drama it found not only its most brilliant, but its most faithful representative. The classicism of Corneille and Racine is but pseudo-classical, and the supremacy claimed for their works among the masterpieces of modern dramatic art has long since been overthrown by a sounder criticism. Most assuredly their art could not have been what it was, or have exercised the influence which it did exercise, had it not been in true sympathy with the life of the nation and the age which it adorned. . . . But though their sphere of ideas is thus not unreal, it is fatally limited to a range fail |