Handbook of Universal Literature, From the Best and Latest Authorities

by Anne C. Lynch Botta

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.