1. THE RENAISSANCE AND THE REFORMATION.--During the preceding ages,
erudition and civilization had not gone hand-in-hand. On the one side
there was the bold, chivalric mind of young Europe, speaking with the
tongues of yesterday, while on the other was the ecclesiastical mind,
expressing itself in degenerate Latin. The one was a life of gayety and
rude disorder--the life of court and castle as depicted in the literature
just scanned; the other, that of men separated from the world, who had
been studying the literary remains of antiquity, and transcribing and
treasuring them for future generations. Hitherto these two sections had
held their courses apart; now they were to meet and blend in harmony. The
vernacular poets, on the one hand, borrowing thought and expression from
the classics, and the clergy, on the other, becoming purveyors of light
literature to the court circles.
The fifteenth century, though somewhat barren, had prepared for the
fecundity of succeeding ages. The revival of the study of ancient
literature, which was promoted by the downfall of Constantinople, the
invention of printing, the discovery of the new world, the decline of
feudalism, and the consequent elevation of the middle classes,--all
concurred to promote a rapid improvement of the human intellect.
During the early part of the sixteenth century, all the ardor of the
French mind was turned to the study of the dead languages; men of genius
had no higher ambition than to excel in them, and many in their declining
years went in their gray hairs to the schools where the languages of Homer
and Cicero were taught. In civil and political society, the same
enthusiasm manifested itself in the imitation of antique manners; people
dressed in the Greek and Roman fashions, borrowed from them the usages of
life, and made a point of dying like the heroes of Plutarch.
The religious reformation came soon after to restore the Christian, as the
revival of letters had brought back the pagan antiquity. Ignorance was
dissipated, and religion was disengaged from philosophy. The Renaissance,
as the revival of antique learning was called, and the Reformation, at
first made common cause. One of those who most eagerly imbibed the spirit
of both was the Princess Marguerite de Valois (1492-1549), elder sister of
Francis I., who obtained the credit of many generous actions which were
truly hers. The principal work of this lady was "L'Heptaméron," or the
History of the Fortunate Lovers, written on the plan and in the spirit of
the Decameron of Boccaccio, a work which a lady of our times would be
unwilling to own acquaintance with, much more to adopt as a model; but the
apology for Marguerite must be found in the manners of the times.
L'Heptaméron is the earliest French prose that can be read without a
glossary.
In 1518, when Margaret was twenty-six years of age, she received from her
brother a gifted poet as valet-de-chambre; this was Marot (1495-1544),
between whom and the learned princess a poetical intercourse was
maintained. Marot had imbibed the principles of Calvin, and had also drank
deeply of the spirit of the Renaissance; but he displayed the poet more
truly before he was either a theologian or a classical scholar. He may be
considered the last type of the old French school, of that combination of
grace and archness, of elegance and simplicity, of familiarity and
propriety, which is a national characteristic of French poetic literature,
and in which they have never been imitated.
Francis Rabelais (1483-1553) was one of the most remarkable persons that
figured in the Renaissance, a learned scholar, physician, and philosopher,
though known to posterity chiefly as an obscene humorist. He is called by
Lord Bacon "the great jester of France." He was at first a monk of the
Franciscan order, but he afterwards threw off the sacerdotal character,
and studied medicine. From about the year 1534, Rabelais was in the
service of the Cardinal Dubellay, and a favorite in the court circles of
Paris and Rome. It was probably during this period that he published, in
successive parts, the work on which his popular fame has rested, the
"Lives of Gargantua and Pantagruel." It consists of the lives and
adventures of these two gigantic heroes, father and son, with the
waggeries and practical jokes of Panurge, their jongleur, and the
blasphemies and obscenities of Friar John, a fighting, swaggering,
drinking monk. With these are mingled dissertations, sophistries, and
allegorical satires in abundance. The publication of the work created a
perfect uproar at the Sorbonne, and among the monks who were its principal
victims; but the cardinals enjoyed its humor, and protected its author,
while the king, Francis I., pronounced it innocent and delectable. It
became the book of the day, and passed through countless editions and
endless commentaries; and yet it is agreed on all hands that there exists
not another work, admitted as literature, that would bear a moment's
comparison with it, for indecency, profanity, and repulsive and disgusting
coarseness. His work is now a mere curiosity for the student of antique
literature.
As Rabelais was the leading type of the Renaissance, so was Calvin (1509-
1564) of the Reformation. Having embraced the principles of Luther, he
went considerably farther in his views. In 1532 he established himself at
Geneva, where he organized a church according to his own ideas. In 1535
he published his "Institutes of the Christian Religion," distinguished
for great severity of doctrine. His next most celebrated work is a
commentary on the Scriptures.
Intellect continued to struggle with its fetters. Many, like Rabelais,
mistrusted the whole system of ecclesiastical polity established by law,
and yet did not pin their faith on the dictates of the austere Calvin.
The almost inevitable consequence was a wide and universal skepticism,
replacing the former implicit subjection to Romanism.
The most eminent type of this school was Montaigne (1533-1592), who, in
his "Essays," shook the foundations of all the creeds of his day, without
offering anything to replace them. He is considered the earliest
philosophical writer in French prose, the first of those who contributed
to direct the minds of his countrymen to the study of human nature. In
doing so, he takes himself as his subject; he dissects his feelings,
emotions, and tendencies with the coolness of an operating surgeon. To a
singular power of self-investigation and an acute observation of the
actions of men, he added great affluence of thought and excursiveness of
fancy, which render him, in spite of his egotism, a most attractive
writer. As he would have considered it dishonest to conceal anything about
himself, he has told much that our modern ideas of decorum would deem
better untold.
Charron (1541-1603), the friend and disciple of Montaigne, was as bold a
thinker, though inferior as a writer. In his book, "De la Sagesse," he
treats religion as a mere matter of speculation, a system of dogmas
without practical influence. Other writers followed in the same steps,
and affected, like him, to place skepticism at the service of good morals.
"License," says a French writer, "had to come before liberty, skepticism
before philosophical inquiry, the school of Montaigne before that of
Descartes." On the other hand, St. Francis de Sales (1567-1622), in his
"Introduction to a Devout Life," and other works, taught that the only
cure for the evils of human nature was to be found in the grace which was
revealed by Christianity.
In these struggles of thought, in this conflict of creeds, the language
acquired vigor and precision. In the works of Calvin, it manifested a
seriousness of tone, and a severe purity of style which commanded general
respect. An easy, natural tone was imparted to it by Amyot (1513-1593),
professor of Greek and Latin at the University of Paris, who enriched the
literature with elegant translations, in which he blended Hellenic graces
with those strictly French.
2. LIGHT LITERATURE.--Ronsard (1524-1585), the favorite poet of Mary Queen
of Scots, flourished at the time that the rage for ancient literature was
at its height. He traced the first outlines of modern French poetry, and
introduced a higher style of poetic thought and feeling than had hitherto
been known. To him France owes the first attempt at the ode and the heroic
epic; in the former, he is regarded as the precursor of Malherbe, who is
still looked on as a model in this style, But Ronsard, and the numerous
school which he formed, not only imitated the spirit and form of the
ancients, but aimed to subject his own language to combinations and
inversions like those of the Greek and Latin, and foreign roots and
phrases began to overpower the reviving flexibility of the French idiom.
Under this influence, the drama was restored by Jodelle (1532-1573) and
others, in the shape of imitations and translations. Towards the end of
the century, however, there appeared a reaction against this learned
tragedy, led by Alexander Hardy (1560-1631), who, with little or no
original genius, produced about twelve hundred plays. He borrowed in every
direction, and imitated the styles of all nations. But the general taste,
however, soon returned to the Greek and Roman school.
The glorious reign of Henry IV. had been succeeded by the stormy minority
of Louis XIII., when Malherbe (1556-1628), the tyrant of words and
syllables, appeared as the reformer of poetry. He attracted attention by
ridiculing the style of Ronsard. He became the laureate of the court, and
furnished for it that literature in which it was beginning to take
delight. In the place of Latin and Greek French, he inaugurated the
extreme of formality; the matter of his verse was made subordinate to the
manner; he substituted polish for native beauty, and effect for genuine
feeling.
I. de Balzac (1594-1624), in his frivolous epistles, used prose as
Malherbe did verse, and a numerous school of the same character was soon
formed. The works of Voiture (1598-1648) abound in the pleasantries and
affected simplicity which best befit such compositions. The most trifling
adventure--the death of a cat or a dog--was transformed into a poem, in
which there was no poetry, but only a graceful facility, which was
considered perfectly charming. Then, as though native affectation were not
enough, the borrowed wit of Italian Marinism, which had been eagerly
adopted in Spain, made its way thence into France, with Spanish
exaggeration superadded. A disciple of this school declares that the eyes
of his mistress are as "large as his grief, and as black as his fate."
Malherbe and his school fell afterwards into neglect, for fashionable
caprice had turned its attention to burlesque, and every one believed
himself capable of writing in this style, from the lords and ladies of the
court down to the valets and maid-servants. It was men like Scarron (1610-
1660), familiar with literary study, and, from choice, with the lowest
society, who introduced this form, the pleasantry of which was increased
by contrast with the finical taste that had been in vogue. Fashion ruled
the light literature of France during the first half of the seventeenth
century, and through all its diversities, its great characteristic is the
absence of all true and serious feeling, and of that inspiration which is
drawn from realities. In the productions of half a century, we find not
one truly elevated, energetic, or pathetic work.
It is during this time, that is, between the death of Henry IV (1610), and
that of Richelieu (1642), that we mark the beginning of literary societies
in France. The earliest in point of date was headed by Madame de
Rambouillet (1610-1642), whose hotel became a seminary of female authors
and factious politicians. This lady was of Italian origin, of fine taste
and education. She had turned away in disgust from the rude manners of the
court of Henry IV, and devoted herself to the study of the classics. After
the death of the king, she gathered a distinguished circle round herself,
combining the elegances of high life with the cultivation of literary
taste. While yet young, Madame de Rambouillet was attacked with a malady
which obliged her to keep her bed the greater part of every year. An
elegant alcove was formed in the great _salon_ of the house, where her bed
was placed, and here she received her friends. The choicest wits of Paris
flocked to her levées; the Hotel de Rambouillet became the fashionable
rendezvous of literature and taste, and _bas-bleu_-ism was the rage. Even
the infirmities of this accomplished lady were imitated. An alcove was
essential to every fashionable belle, who, attired in a coquettish
dishabille, and reclining on satin pillows, fringed with lace, gave
audience to whispered gossip in the _ruelle_, as the space around the bed
was called.
Among the personages renowned in their day, who frequented the Hotel de
Rambouillet, were Mademoiselle de Scudery (1607-1701), then in the zenith
of her fame, Madame de Sévigné (1627-1696), Mademoiselle de la Vergne,
afterwards Madame de Lafayette (1655-1693), eminent as literary
characters; the Duchess de Longueville, the Duchess de Chevreuse, and
Madame Deshoulières, afterwards distinguished for their political ability.
At the feet of these noble ladies reclined a number of young seigneurs,
dangling their little hats surcharged with plumes, while their mantles of
silk and gold were spread loosely on the floor. And there, in more grave
attire, were the professional littérateurs, such as Balzac, Voiture,
Ménage, Scudery, Chaplain, Costart, Conrad, and the Abbé Bossuet. The
Cupid of the hotel was strictly Platonic. The romances of Mademoiselle de
Scudery were long-spun disquisitions on love; her characters were drawn
from the individuals around her, who in turn attempted to sustain the
characters and adopt the language suggested in her books. One folly led on
another, till at last the vocabulary of the _salon_ became so artificial,
that none but the initiated could understand it. As for Mademoiselle de
Scudery herself, applying, it would seem, the impracticable tests she had
invented for sounding the depths of the tender passion, though not without
suitors, she died an old maid, at the advanced age of ninety-four.
The civil wars of the Fronde (1649-1654) were unfavorable to literary
meetings. The women who took the most distinguished part in these troubles
had graduated, so to say, from the Hotel de Rambouillet, which, perhaps
for this reason, declined with the ascendency of Louis XIV. The agitations
of the Fronde taught him to distrust clever women, and he always showed a
marked dislike for female authorship.
3. THE FRENCH ACADEMY.--The taste for literature, which had become so
generally diffused, rendered the men whose province it was to define its
laws the chiefs of a brilliant empire. Scholars, therefore, frequently met
together for critical discussion. About the year 1629 a certain number of
men of letters agreed to assemble one day in each week. It was a union of
friendship, a companionship of men of kindred tastes and occupations; and
to prevent intrusion, the meetings were for some time kept secret. When
Richelieu came to hear of the existence of the society, desirous to make
literature subservient to his political glory, he proposed to these
gentlemen to form themselves into a corporation, established by letters
patent, at the same time hinting that he had the power to put a stop to
their secret meetings. The argument was irresistible, and the little
society consented to receive from his highness the title of the French
Academy, in 1635. The members of the Academy were to occupy themselves in
establishing rules for the French language, and to take cognizance of
whatever books were written by its members, and by others who desired its
opinions.
4. THE DRAMA.--The endeavor to imitate the ancients in the tragic art
displayed itself at a very early period among the French, and they
considered that the surest method of succeeding in this endeavor was to
observe the strictest outward regularity of form, of which they derived
their ideas more from Aristotle, and especially from Seneca, than from any
intimate acquaintance with the Greek models themselves. Three of the most
celebrated of the French tragic poets, Corneille, Racine, and Voltaire,
have given, it would seem, an immutable shape to the tragic stage of
France by adopting this system, which has been considered by the French
critics universally as alone entitled to any authority, and who have
viewed every deviation from it as a sin against good taste. The treatise
of Aristotle, from which they have derived the idea of the far-famed three
unities, of action, time, and place, which have given rise to so many
critical wars, is a mere fragment, and some scholars have been of the
opinion that it is not even a fragment of the true original, but of an
extract which some person made for his own improvement. From this anxious
observance of the Greek rules, under totally different circumstances, it
is obvious that great inconveniences and incongruities must arise; and the
criticism of the Academy on a tragedy of Corneille, "that the poet, from
the fear of sinning against the rules of art, had chosen rather to sin
against the rules of nature," is often applicable to the dramatic writers
of France.
Corneille (1606-1684) ushered in a new era in the French drama. It has
been said of him that he was a man greater in himself than in his works,
his genius being fettered by the rules of the French drama and the
conventional state of French verse. The day of mysteries and moralities
was past, and the comedies of Hardy, the court poet of Henry IV., had, in
their turn, been consigned to oblivion, yet there was an increasing taste
for the drama. The first comedy of Corneille, "Mélite," was followed by
many others, which, though now considered unreadable, were better than
anything then known. The appearance of the "Cid," in 1635, a drama
constructed on the foundation of the old Spanish romances, constituted an
era in the dramatic history of France. Although not without great faults,
resulting from strict adherence to the rules, it was the first time that
the depths of passion had been stirred on the stage, and its success was
unprecedented. For years after, his pieces followed each other in rapid
succession, and the history of the stage was that of Corneille's works. In
the "Cid," the triumph of love was exhibited; in "Les Horaces," love was
represented as punished for its rebellion against the laws of honor; in
"Cinna," all more tender considerations are sacrificed to the implacable
duty of avenging a father; while in "Polyeucte," duty triumphs alone.
Corneille did not boldly abandon himself to the guidance of his genius; he
feared criticism, although he defied it. His success proved the signal for
envy and detraction; he became angry at being obliged to fight his way,
and therefore withdrew from the path in which he was likely to meet
enemies. His decline was as rapid as his success had been brilliant. "The
fall of the great Corneille," says Fontenelle, "may be reckoned as among
the most remarkable examples of the vicissitudes of human affairs. Even
that of Belisarius asking alms is not more striking." As his years
increased, he became more anxious for popularity; having been so long in
possession of undisputed superiority, he could not behold without
dissatisfaction the rising glory of his successors; and, towards the close
of his life, this weakness was greatly increased by the decay of his
bodily organs.
5. PHILOSOPHY.--During this period, in a region far above court favor,
Descartes (1596-1650) elaborated his system of philosophy, in creating a
new method of philosophizing. The leading peculiarity of his system was
the attempt to deduce all moral and religious truth from self-
consciousness. _I think, therefore I am_, was the famous axiom on which
the whole was built. From this he inferred the existence of two distinct
natures in man, the mental and the physical, and the existence of certain
ideas which he called innate in the mind, and serving to connect it with
the spiritual and invisible. Besides these new views in metaphysics,
Descartes made valuable contributions to mathematical and physical
science; and though his philosophy is now generally discarded, it is not
forgotten that he opened the way for Locke, Newton, and Leibnitz, and that
his system was in reality the base of all those that superseded it. There
is scarcely a name on record, the bearer of which has given a greater
impulse to mathematical and philosophical inquiry than Descartes, and he
embodied his thoughts in such masterly language, that it has been justly
said of him, that his fame as a writer would have been greater if his
celebrity as a thinker had been less.
The age of Descartes was an interesting era in the annals of the human
mind. The darkness of scholastic philosophy was gradually clearing away
before the light which an improved method of study was shedding over the
natural sciences. A system of philosophy, founded on observation, was
preparing the downfall of those traditional errors which had long held the
mastery in the schools. Geometricians, physicians, and astronomers taught,
by their example, the severe process of reasoning which was to regenerate
all the sciences; and minds of the first order, scattered in various parts
of Europe, communicated to each other the results of their labors, and
stimulated each other to new exertions.
One of the most eminent contemporaries of Descartes was Pascal (1628-
1662). At the age of sixteen he wrote a treatise on conic sections, which
was followed by several important discoveries in arithmetic and geometry.
His experiments in natural science added to his fame, and he was
recognized as one of the most eminent geometricians of modern times. But
he soon formed the design of abandoning science for pursuits exclusively
religious, and circumstances arose which became the occasion of those
"Provincial Letters," which, with the "Pensées de la Religion," are
considered among the finest specimens of French literature.
The abbey of Port Royal occupied a lonely situation about six leagues from
Paris. Its internal discipline had recently undergone a thorough
reformation, and the abbey rose to such a high reputation, that men of
piety and learning took up their abode in its vicinity, to enjoy literary
leisure. The establishment received pupils, and its system of education
became celebrated in a religious and intellectual point of view. The great
rivals of the Port Royalists were the Jesuits. Pascal, though not a member
of the establishment, was a frequent visitor, and one of his friends
there, having been drawn into a controversy with the Sorbonne on the
doctrines of the Jansenists, had recourse to his aid in replying. Pascal
published a series of letters in a dramatic form, in which he brought his
adversaries on the stage with himself, and fairly cut them up for the
public amusement. These letters, combining the comic pleasantry of Molière
with the eloquence of Demosthenes, so elegant and attractive in style, and
so clear and popular that a child might understand them, gained immediate
attention; but the Jesuits, whose policy and doctrines they attacked,
finally induced the parliament of Provence to condemn them to be burned by
the common hangman; and the Port Royalists, refusing to renounce their
opinions, were driven from their retreat, and the establishment broken up.
Pascal's masterpiece is the "Pensées de la Religion;" it consists of
fragments of thought, without apparent connection or unity of design.
These thoughts are in some places obscure; they contain repetitions, and
even contradictions, and require that arrangement that could only have
been supplied by the hand of the writer. It has often been lamented that
the author never constructed the edifice which it is believed he had
designed, and of which these thoughts were the splendid materials.
6. THE RISE OF THE GOLDEN AGE OF FRENCH LITERATURE.--When Louis XIV. came
to the throne (1638-1715), France was already subject to conditions
certain to produce a brilliant period in literature. She had been brought
into close relations with Spain and Italy, the countries then the most
advanced in intellectual culture; and she had received from the study of
the ancient masters the best correctives of whatever might have been
extravagant in the national genius. She had learned some useful lessons
from the polemical distractions of the sixteenth century. The religious
earnestness excited by controversy was gratified by preachers of high
endowments, and the political ascendency of France, among the kingdoms of
Europe, imparted a general freedom and buoyancy. But of all the influences
which contributed to perfect the literature of France in the latter half
of the seventeenth century, none was so powerful as that of the monarch
himself, who, by his personal power, rendered his court a centre of
knowledge, and, by his government, imparted a feeling of security to those
who lived under it. The predominance of the sovereign became the most
prominent feature in the social character of the age, and the whole circle
of the literature bears its impress. Louis elevated and improved, in no
small degree, the position of literary men, by granting pensions to some,
while he raised others to high offices of state; or they were recompensed
by the public, through the general taste, which the monarch so largely
contributed to diffuse.
The age, unlike that which followed it, was one of order and specialty in
literature; and in classifying its literary riches, we shall find the
principal authors presenting themselves under the different subjects:
Racine with tragedy, Molière with comedy, Boileau with satirical and mock-
heroic, La Fontaine with narrative poetry, Bossuet, Bourdaloue, and
Massillon with pulpit eloquence; Patru, Pellisson, and some others with
that of the bar; Bossuet, de Retz, and St. Simon with history and memoirs;
Rochefoucauld and La Bruyère with moral philosophy; Fénelon and Madame de
Lafayette with romance; and Madame de Sévigné with letter-writing.
The personal influence of the king was most marked on pulpit eloquence and
dramatic poetry. Other branches found less favor, from his dislike to
those who chiefly treated them. The recollections of the Fronde had left
in his mind a distrust of Rochefoucauld. A similar feeling of political
jealousy, with a thorough hatred of _bel esprit_, especially in a woman,
prevented him from appreciating Madame de Sévigné; and he seems not even
to have observed La Bruyère, in his modest functions as teacher of history
to the Duke of Burgundy. He had no taste for the pure mental speculations
of Malebranche or Fénelon; and in metaphysics, as in religion, had little
patience for what was beyond the good sense of ordinary individuals. The
same hatred of excess rendered him equally the enemy of refiners and free-
thinkers, so that the like exile fell to the lot of Arnauld and Bayle, the
one carrying to the extreme the doctrines of grace, and the other those of
skeptical inquiry. Nor did he relish the excessive simplicity of La
Fontaine, or deem that his talent was a sufficient compensation for his
slovenly manners and inaptitude for court life. Of all these writers it
may be said, that they flourished rather in spite of the personal
influence of the monarch than under his favor.
7. TRAGEDY.--The first dramas of Racine (1639-1699) were but feeble
imitations of Corneille, who advised the young author to attempt no more
tragedy. He replied by producing "Andromaque," which had a most powerful
effect upon the stage. The poet had discovered that sympathy was a more
powerful source of tragic effect than admiration, and he accordingly
employed the powers of his genius in a truthful expression of feeling and
character, and a thrilling alternation of hope and fear, anger and pity.
"Andromaque" was followed almost every year by a work of similar
character. Henrietta of England induced Corneille and Racine, unknown to
each other, to produce a tragedy on Berenice, in order to contrast the
powers of these illustrious rivals. They were represented in the year
1670; that of Corneille proved a failure, but Racine's was honored; by the
tears of the court and the city. Soon after, partly disgusted at the
intrigues against him, and partly from religious principle, Racine
abandoned his career while yet in the full vigor of his life and genius.
He was appointed historiographer to the king, conjointly with Boileau, and
after twelve years of silence he was induced by Madame de Maintenon to
compose the drama of "Esther" for the pupils in the Maison de St. Cyr,
which met with prodigious success. "Athalie," considered the most perfect
of his works, was composed with similar views; theatricals having been
abandoned at the school, however, the play was published, but found no
readers. Discouraged by this second injustice, Racine finally abandoned
the drama. "Athalie" was but little known till the year 1716, since when
its reputation has considerably augmented. Voltaire pronounced it the most
perfect work of human genius. The subject of this drama is taken from the
twenty-second and twenty-third chapter of II. Chronicles, where it is
written that Athaliah, to avenge the death of her son, destroyed all the
seed royal of the house of Judah, but that the young Joash was stolen from
among the rest by his aunt Jehoshabeath, the wife of the high-priest, and
hidden with his nurse for six years in the temple. Besides numerous
tragedies, Racine composed odes, epigrams, and spiritual songs. By a rare
combination of talents he wrote as well in prose as in verse. His "History
of the Reign of Louis XIV." was destroyed by a conflagration, but there
remain the "History of Port Royal," some pleasing letters, and some
academic discourses. The tragedies of Racine are more elegant than those
of Corneille, though less bold and striking. Corneille's principal
characters are heroes and heroines thrown into situations of extremity,
and displaying strength of mind superior to their position. Racine's
characters are men, not heroes,--men such as they are, not such as they
might possibly be.
France produced no other tragic dramatists of the first class in this age.
Somewhat later, Crébillon (1674-1762), in such wild tragedies as "Atrea,"
"Electra," and "Rhadamiste," introduced a new element, that of terror, as
a source of tragic effect.
Cardinal Mazarin had brought from Italy the opera or lyric tragedy, which
was cultivated with success by Quinault (1637-1688). He is said to have
taken the bones out of the French language by cultivating an art in which
thought, incident, and dialogue are made secondary to the development of
tender and voluptuous feeling.
8. COMEDY.--The comic drama, which occupied the French stage till the
middle of the seventeenth century, was the comedy of intrigue, borrowed
from Spain, and turning on disguises, dark lanterns, and trap-doors to
help or hinder the design of personages who were types, not of individual
character, but of classes, as doctors, lawyers, lovers, and confidants. It
was reserved for Molière (1622-1673) to demolish all this childishness,
and enthrone the true Thalia on the French stage. Like Shakspeare, he was
both an author and an actor. The appearance of the "Précieuses Ridicules"
was the first of the comedies in which the gifted poet assailed the
follies of his age. The object of this satire was the system of solemn
sentimentality which at this time was considered the perfection of
elegance. It will be remembered that there existed at Paris a coterie of
fashionable women who pretended to the most exalted refinement both of
feeling and expression, and that these were waited upon and worshiped by a
set of nobles and littérateurs, who used towards them a peculiar strain of
high-flown, pedantic gallantry. These ladies adopted fictitious names for
themselves and gave enigmatical ones to the commonest things. They
lavished upon each other the most tender appellations, as though in
contrast to the frigid tone in which the Platonism of the Hotel required
them to address the gentlemen of their circle. _Ma chère, ma précieuse_,
were the terms most frequently used by the leaders of this world of folly,
and a _précieuse_ came to be synonymous with a lady of the clique; hence
the title of the comedy. The piece was received with unanimous applause; a
more signal victory could not have been gained by a comic poet, and from
the time of its first representation this bombastic nonsense was given up.
Molière, perceiving that he had struck the true vein, resolved to study
human nature more and Plautus and Terence less. Comedy after comedy
followed, which were true pictures of the follies of society; but whatever
was the theme of his satire, all proved that he had a falcon's eye for
detecting vice and folly in every shape, and talons for pouncing upon all
as the natural prey of the satirist. On the boards he always took the
principal character himself, and he was a comedian in every look and
gesture. The "Malade Imaginaire" was the last of his works. When it was
produced upon the stage, the poet himself was really ill, but repressing
the voice of natural suffering, to affect that of the hypochondriac for
public amusement, he was seized with a convulsive cough, and carried home
dying. Though he was denied the last offices of the church, and his
remains were with difficulty allowed Christian burial, in the following
century his bust was placed in the Academy, and a monument erected to his
memory in the cemetery of Père la Chaise. The best of Molière's works are,
"Le Misanthrope," "Les Femmes Savantes," and "Tartuffe;" these are
considered models of high comedy. Other comedians followed, but at a great
distance from him in point of merit.
9. FABLE, SATIRE, MOCK-HEROIC, AND OTHER POETRY.--La Fontaine (1621-1695)
was the prince of fabulists; his fables appeared successively in three
collections, and although the subjects of some of these are borrowed, the
dress is entirely new. His versification constitutes one of the greatest
charms of his poetry, and seems to have been the result of an instinctive
sense of harmony, a delicate taste, and rapidity of invention. There are
few authors in France more popular, none so much the familiar genius of
every fireside. La Fontaine himself was a mere child of nature, indolent,
and led by the whim of the moment, rather than by any fixed principle. He
was desired by his father to take charge of the domain of which he was the
keeper, and to unite himself in marriage with a family relative. With
unthinking docility he consented to both, but neglected alike his official
duties and domestic obligations with an innocent unconsciousness of wrong.
He was taken to Paris by the Duchess of Bouillon and passed his days in
her coteries, and those of Racine and Boileau, utterly forgetful of his
home and family, except when his pecuniary necessities obliged him to
return to sell portions of his property to supply his wants. When this was
exhausted, he became dependent on the kindness of female discerners of
merit. Henrietta of England attached him to her suite; and after her
death, Madame de la Sablière gave him apartments at her house, supplied
his wants, and indulged his humors for twenty years. When she retired to a
convent, Madame d'Hervart, the wife of a rich financier, offered him a
similar retreat. While on her way to make the proposal, she met him in the
street, and said, "La Fontaine, will you come and live in my house?" "I
was just going, madame," he replied, as if his doing so had been the
simplest and most natural thing in the world. And here he remained the
rest of his days. France has produced numerous writers of fables since the
time of La Fontaine, but none worthy of comparison with him.
The writings of Descartes and Pascal, with the precepts of the Academy and
Port Royal, had established the art of prose composition, but the destiny
of poetry continued doubtful. Corneille's masterpieces afforded models
only in one department; there was no specific doctrine on the idea of what
poetry ought to be. To supply this was the mission of Boileau (1636-1711);
and he fulfilled it, first by satirizing the existing style, and then by
composing an "Art of Poetry," after the manner of Horace. In the midst of
men who made verses for the sake of making them, and composed languishing
love-songs upon the perfections of mistresses who never existed except in
their own imaginations, Boileau determined to write nothing but what
interested his feelings, to break with this affected gallantry, and draw
poetry only from the depths of his own heart. His début was made in
unmerciful satires on the works of the poetasters, and he continued to
plead the cause of reason against rhyme, of true poetry against false.
Despite the anger of the poets and their friends, his satires enjoyed
immense favor, and he consolidated his victory by writing the "Art of
Poetry," in which he attempted to restore it to its true dignity. This
work obtained for him the title of Legislator of Parnassus. The mock-
heroic poem of the "Lutrin" is considered as the happiest effort of his
muse, though inferior to the "Rape of the Lock," a composition of a
similar kind. The occasion of this poem was a frivolous dispute between
the treasurer and the chapter of a cathedral concerning the placing of a
reading-desk (_lutrin_). A friend playfully challenged Boileau to write a
heroic poem on the subject, to verify his own theory that the excellence
of a heroic poem depended upon the power of the inventor to sustain and
enlarge upon a slender groundwork. Boileau was the last of the great poets
of the golden age.
The horizon of the poets was at this time somewhat circumscribed. Confined
to the conventional life of the court and the city, they enjoyed little
opportunity for the contemplation of nature. The policy of Louis XIV.
proscribed national recollections, so that the social life of the day was
alone open to them. Poetry thus became abstract and ideal, or limited to
the delineation of those passions which belong to a highly artificial
state of society. Madame Deshoulières (1634-1694) indeed wrote some
graceful idyls, but she by no means entered into the spirit of rural life
and manners, like La Fontaine.
10. ELOQUENCE OF THE PULPIT AND OF THE BAR.--Louis XIV. afforded to
religious eloquence the most efficacious kind of encouragement, that of
personal attendance. The court preachers had no more attentive auditor
than their royal master, who was singularly gifted with that tenderness of
conscience which leads a man to condemn himself for his sins, yet indulge
in their commission; to feel a certain pleasure in self-accusation, and to
enjoy that reaction of mind which consists in occasionally holding his
passions in abeyance. This attention on the part of a great monarch, the
liberty of saying everything, the refined taste of the audience, who could
on the same day attend a sermon of Bourdaloue and a tragedy of Racine, all
tended to lead pulpit eloquence to a high degree of perfection; and,
accordingly, we find the function of court preacher exercised successively
by Bossuet (1627-1704), Bourdaloue (1632-1704), and Massillon (1663-1742),
the greatest names that the Roman Catholic Church has boasted in any age
or country. Bossuet addressed the conscience through the imagination,
Bourdaloue through the judgment, and Massillon through the feelings.
Fléchier (1632-1710), another court preacher, renowned chiefly as a
rhetorician, was not free from the affectation of Les Précieuses; but
Bossuet was perhaps the most distinguished type of the age of Louis XIV.,
in all save its vices. For the instruction of the Dauphin, to whom he had
been appointed preceptor, he wrote his "Discourse upon Universal History,"
by which he is chiefly known to us. The Protestant controversy elicited
his famous "Exposition of the Catholic Doctrine." A still more celebrated
work is the "History of the Variations," the leading principle of which
is, that to forsake the authority of the church leads one knows not
whither, that there can be no new religious views except false ones, and
that there can be no escape from the faith transmitted from age to age,
save in the wastes of skepticism. In his controversy with Fénelon, in
relation to the mystical doctrines of Madame Guyon, Bossuet showed himself
irritated, and at last furious, at the moderate and submissive tone of his
opponent. He procured the banishment of Fénelon from court, and the
disgrace of his friends; and through his influence the pope condemned the
"Maxims of the Saints," in which Fénelon endeavored to show that the views
of Madame Guyon were those of others whom the church had canonized. The
sermons of Bossuet were paternal and familiar exhortations; he seldom
prepared them, but, abandoning himself to the inspiration of the moment,
was now simple and touching, now energetic and sublime, His familiarity
with the language of inspiration imparted to his discourses a tone of
almost prophetic authority; his eloquence appeared as a native instinct, a
gift direct from heaven, neither marred nor improved by the study of human
rules. France does not acknowledge the Protestant Saurin (1677-1730), as
the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes expatriated him in childhood; but
his sermons occupy a distinguished place in the theological literature of
the French language.
Political or parliamentary oratory was as yet unknown, for the parliament
no sooner touched on matters of state and government, than Louis XIV
entered, booted and spurred, with whip in hand, and not figuratively, but
literally, lashed the refractory assembly into silence and obedience. But
the eloquence of the bar enjoyed a considerable degree of freedom in this
age. Law and reason, however, were too often overlaid by worthless
conceits and a fantastic abuse of classic and scriptural citations. Le
Maitre (1608-1658), Patru (1604-1681), Pellisson (1624-1693), Cochin
(1687-1749), and D'Aguesseau (1668-1751), successively purified and
elevated the language of the tribunals.
11. MORAL PHILOSOPHY.--The most celebrated moralist of the age was the
Duke de Rochefoucauld (1613-1680). He was early drawn into those conflicts
known as the wars of the Fronde, though he seems to have had little motive
for fighting or intriguing, except his restlessness of spirit and his
attachment to the Duchess de Longueville. He soon quarreled with the
duchess, dissolved his alliance with Condé, and being afterwards included
in the amnesty, he took up his residence at Paris, where he was one of the
brightest ornaments of the court of Louis XIV. His chosen friends, in his
declining years, were Madame de Sévigné, one of the most accomplished
women of the age, and Madame de Lafayette, who said of him, "He gave me
intellect, and I reformed his heart." But if the taint was removed from
his heart, it continued in the understanding. His famous "Maxims,"
published in 1665, gained for the author a lasting reputation, not less
for the perfection of his style, than for the boldness of his paradoxes.
The leading peculiarity of this work is the principle that self-interest
is the ruling motive in human nature, placing every virtue, as well as
every vice, under contribution to itself. It is generally agreed that
Rochefoucauld's views of human nature were perverted by the specimens of
it which he had known in the wars of the Fronde, which were stimulated by
vice, folly, and a restless desire of power. His "Memoirs of the Reign of
Anne of Austria" embody the story of the Fronde, and his "Maxims" the
moral philosophy he deduced from it.
While Pascal, in proving all human remedies unworthy of confidence, had
sought to drive men upon faith by pursuing them with despair, and
Rochefoucauld, by his pitiless analysis of the disguises of the human
heart, led his readers to suspect their most natural emotions, and well-
nigh took away the desire of virtue by proving its impossibility, La
Bruyère (1639-1696) endeavored to make the most of our nature, such as it
is, to render men better, even with their imperfections, to assist them by
a moral code suited to their strength, or rather to their weakness. His
"Characters of our Age" is distinguished for the exactness and variety of
the portraits, as well as for the excellence of its style. The philosophy
of La Bruyère is unquestionably based on reason, and not on revelation.
In the moral works of Nicole, the Port Royalist (1611-1645), we find a
system of truly Christian ethics, derived from the precepts of revelation;
they are elegant in style, though they display little originality.
The only speculative philosopher of this age, worthy of mention, is
Malebranche (1631-1715), a disciple of Descartes; but, unlike his master,
instead of admitting innate ideas, he held that we see all in Deity, and
that it is only by our spiritual union with the Being who knows all things
that we know anything. He professed optimism, and explained the existence
of evil by saying that the Deity acts only as a universal cause. His
object was to reconcile philosophy with revelation; his works, though
models of style, are now little read.
12. HISTORY AND MEMOIRS.--History attained no degree of excellence during
this period. Bossuet's "Discourse on Universal History" was a sermon, with
general history as the text. At a somewhat earlier date, Mézeray (1610-
1683) compiled a history of France. The style is clear and nervous, and
the spirit which pervades it is bold and independent, but the facts are
not always to be relied on. The "History of Christianity," by the Abbé
Fleury (1640-1723), was pronounced by Voltaire to be the best work of the
kind that had ever appeared. Rollin (1661-1741) devoted his declining
years to the composition of historical works for the instruction of young
people. His "Ancient History" is more remarkable for the excellence of his
intentions than for the display of historical talent. Indeed, the
historical writers of this period may be said to have marked, rather than
filled a void.
The writers of memoirs were more happy. At an earlier period, Brantôme
(1527-1614), a gentleman attached to the suite of Charles IX. and Henry
III., employed his declining years in describing men and manners as he had
observed them; and his memoirs are admitted to embody but too faithfully a
representation of that singular mixture of elegance and grossness, of
superstition and impiety, of chivalrous feelings and licentious morals,
which characterized the sixteenth century. The Duke of Sully (1559-1641),
the skillful financier of Henry IV., left valuable memoirs of the stirring
events of his day. The "Memoirs" of the Cardinal de Betz (1614-1679), who
took so active a part in the agitations of the Fronde, embody the enlarged
views of the true historian, and breathe the impetuous spirit of a man
whose native element is civil commotion, and who looks on the
chieftainship of a party as worthy to engage the best powers of his head
and heart; but his style abounds with negligences and irregularities which
would have shocked the littérateurs of the day.
The Duke de St. Simon (1675-1755) is another of those who made no
pretensions to classical writing. All the styles of the seventeenth
century are found in him. His language has been compared to a torrent,
which appears somewhat incumbered by the debris which it carries, yet
makes its way with no less rapidity.
Count Hamilton (1646-1720) narrates the adventures of his brother-in-law,
Count de Grammont, of which La Harpe says, "Of all frivolous books, it is
the most diverting and ingenious." Much lively narration is here expended
on incidents better forgotten.
13. ROMANCE AND LETTER-WRITING.--The growth of kingly power, the order
which it established, and the civilization which followed in its train,
restrained the development of public life and increased the interests of
the social relations. From this new state of things arose a modified kind
of romance, in which elevated sentiments replaced the achievements of
mediaeval fiction and the military exploits of Mademoiselle de Scudery's
tales. Madame de Lafayette introduced that kind of romance in which the
absorbing interest is that of conflicting passion, and external events
were the occasion of developing the inward life of thought and feeling.
She first depicted manners as they really were, relating natural events
with gracefulness, instead of narrating those that never could have had
existence.
The illustrious Fénelon (1651-1715) was one of the few authors of this
period who belonged exclusively to no one class. He appears as a divine in
his "Sermons" and "Maxims;" as a rhetorician in his "Dialogues on
Eloquence;" as a moralist in his "Education of Girls;" as a politician in
his "Examination of the Conscience of a King;" and it may be said that all
these characters are combined in "Telemachus," which has procured for him
a widespread fame, and which classes him among the romancers. Telemachus
was composed with the intention of its becoming a manual for his pupil,
the young Duke of Burgundy, on his entrance into manhood. Though its
publication caused him the loss of the king's favor, it went through
numerous editions, and was translated into every language of Europe. It
was considered, in its day, a manual for kings, and it became a standard
book, on account of the elegance of its style, the purity of its morals,
and the classic taste it was likely to foster in the youthful mind.
Madame de Sévigné made no pretensions to authorship. Her letters were
written to her daughter, without the slightest idea that they would be
read, except by those to whom they were addressed; but they have
immortalized their gifted author, and have been pronounced worthy to
occupy an eminent place among the classics of French literature. The
matter which these celebrated letters contain is multifarious; they are
sketches of Madame de Sévigné's friends, Madame de Lafayette, Madame
Scarron, and all the principal personages of that brilliant court, from
which, however, she was excluded, in consequence of her early alliance
with the Fronde, her friendship for Fouquet, and her Jansenist opinions.
All the occurrences, as well as the characters of the day, are touched in
these letters; and so graphic is the pen, so clear and easy the style,
that we seem to live in those brilliant days, and to see all that was
going on. Great events are detailed in the same tone as court gossip;
Louis XIV., Turenne, Condé, the wars of France and of the empire are
freely mingled with details of housewifery, projects of marriage,--in
short, the seventeenth century is depicted in the correspondence of two
women who knew nothing so important as their own affairs.
Considerable interest attaches also to the letters of Madame de Maintenon
(1635-1719), a lady whose life presents singular contrasts, worthy of the
time. To her influence on the king, after her private marriage to him, is
attributed much that is inauspicious in the latter part of his reign, the
combination of ascetic devotion and religious bigotry with the most
flagrant immorality, the appointment of unskillful generals and weak-
minded ministers, the persecution of the Jansenists, and, above all, the
revocation of the Edict of Nantes, which had secured religious freedom to
the Protestants.