Galluppi (1773-1846), though unable to extricate himself entirely from the sensualistic school, attempted the reform of philosophy, which resulted in a movement in Italy similar to that produced by Reid and Dugald Stewart in Scotland.

While sensualism was gaining ground in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, rationalism, having its roots in the Platonic system which had prevailed in the fifteenth and sixteenth, was remodeled under the influence of Descartes, Leibnitz, and Wolf, and opposed to the invading tendencies of its antagonist. From causes to be found in the spirit of the age and the political condition of the country, this system was unable to take the place to which it was entitled, though it succeeded in purifying sensualism from its more dangerous consequences, and infusing into it some of its own elements. But the overthrow of that system was completed only by the works of Rosmini and Gioberti. Rosmini (1795-1855) gave a new impulse to metaphysical researches, and created a new era in the history of Italian philosophy. His numerous works embrace all philosophical knowledge in its unity and universality, founded on a new basis, and developed with deep, broad, and original views. His philosophy, both inductive and deductive, rests on experimental method, reaches the highest problems of ideology and ontology, and infuses new life into all departments of science. This philosophical progress was greatly aided by Gioberti (1801-1851), whose life, however, was more particularly devoted to political pursuits. His work on "The Regeneration of Italy" contains his latest and soundest views on Italian nationality. Another distinguished philosophical and political writer is Mamiani, whose work on "The Rights of Nations" deserves the attention of all students of history and political science. As a statesman, he belongs to the National party, of which Count Cavour (1810-1861), himself an eminent writer on political economy, was the great representative, and to whose commanding influence is to be attributed the rapid progress which the Italian nation was making towards unity and independence at the time of his death.

FROM 1860 TO 1885.

During the last twenty-five years the rapid progress of political events in Italy seems to have absorbed the energies of the people, who have made little advance in literature. For the first time since the fall of the Roman empire the country has become a united kingdom, and in the national adjustment to the new conditions, and in the material and industrial development which has followed, the new literature has not yet, to any great extent, found voice. Yet this period of national formation and consolidation, however, has not been without its poets, among whom a few may be here named. Aleardo Aleardi (d. 1882) is one of the finest poetical geniuses that Italy has produced within the last century, but his writings show the ill effects of a poet sacrificing his art to a political cause, and when the patriot has ceased to declaim the poet ceases to sing. Prati (1815-1884), on the other hand, in his writings exemplifies the evil of a poet refusing to take part in the grand movement of his nation. He severs himself from all present interests and finds his subjects in sources which have no interest for his contemporaries. He has great metrical facility and his lyrics are highly praised. Carducci, like Aleardi, is a poet who has written on political subjects; he belongs to the class of closet democrats. His poems display a remarkable talent for the picturesque, forcible, and epigrammatic. The poems of Zanella are nearly all on scientific subjects connected with human feeling, and entitle him to a distinguished place among the refined poets of his country. A poet of greater promise than those already spoken of is Arnaboldi, who has the endowment requisite to become the first Italian poet of a new school, but who endangers his position by devoting his verse to utilitarian purposes.

The tendency of the younger poets is to realism and to representing its most materialistic features as beautiful. Against this current of the new poetry Alessandro Rizzi, Guerzoni, and others have uttered a strong protest in poetry and prose.

Among historians, Capponi is the author of a history of Florence; Zini has continued Farina's history of Italy; Bartoli, Settembrini, and De Sanctis have written histories of Italian literature; Villari is the author of able works on the life of Machiavelli and of Savonarola, and Berti has written the life of Giordano Bruno. In criticism philosophic, historical, and literary, Fiorentino, De Sanctis, Massarani, and Trezza are distinguished. Barili, Farina, Bersezio, and Giovagnoli are writers of fiction, and Cossa, Ferrari, and Giacosa are the authors of many dramatic works. The charming books of travel by De Amicis are extensively translated and very popular.



FRENCH LITERATURE.

INTRODUCTION.—1. French Literature and its Divisions.—2. The Language.

PERIOD FIRST.—1. The Troubadours.—2. The Trouveres French Literature in the Fifteenth Century.—4. The Mysteries and Moralities: Charles of Orleans, Villon, Ville-Hardouin, Joinville, Froissart, Philippe de Commines.

PERIOD SECOND.—1. The Renaissance and the Reformation: Marguerite de Valois, Marot, Rabelais, Calvin, Montaigne, Charron and others.—2. Light Literature: Ronsard Jodelle, Hardy, Malherbe, Scarron, Madame de Rambouillet, and others.—3. The French Academy.—4. The Drama: Corneille.—5. Philosophy: Descartes, Pascal; Port Royal.—6. The Rise of the Golden Age of French Literature: Louis XIV.—7. Tragedy: Racine.—8. Comedy: Moliere.—9. Fables, Satires, Mock-Heroic, and other Poetry: La Fontaine, Boileau.—10. Eloquence of the Pulpit and of the Bar: Bourdaloue, Bossuet, Massillon, Flechier, Le Maitre, D'Aguesseau, and others.—11. Moral Philosophy: Rochefoucault La Bruyere, Nicole.—12. History and Memoirs: Mezeray, Fleury, Rollin, Brantome the Duke of Sully, Cardinal de Retz.—13. Romance and Letter Writing: Fenelon, Madame de Sevigne.

PERIOD THIRD.—1. The Dawn of Skepticism: Bayle, J. B. Rousseau, Fontenelle, Lamotte.—2. Progress of Skepticism: Montesquieu, Voltaire. —3. French Literature during the Revolution: D'Holbach, D'Alembert, Diderot, J. J. Rousseau, Buffon, Beaumarchais, St. Pierre, and others.—4. French Literature under the Empire: Madame de Stael, Chateaubriand, Royer- Collard, Ronald, De Maistre.—5. French Literature from the Age of the Restoration to the Present Time. History: Thierry, Sismondi, Thiers, Mignet, Martin, Michelet, and others. Poetry and the Drama; Rise of the Romantic School: Beranger, Lamartine, Victor Hugo, and others; Les Parnassiens. Fiction: Hugo, Gautier, Dumas, Merimee, Balzac, Sand, Sandeau and others. Criticism: Sainte-Beuve, Taine, and others. Miscellaneous.

INTRODUCTION.

1. FRENCH LITERATURE AND ITS DIVISIONS.—Towards the middle of the fifth century the Franks commenced their invasions of Gaul, which ended in the conquest of the country, and the establishment of the French monarchy under Clovis. The period from Clovis to Charlemagne (487-768) is the most obscure of the Dark Ages. The principal writers, whose names have been preserved, are St. Remy, the archbishop of Rheims (d. 535), distinguished for his eloquence, and Gregory of Tours (d. 595), whose contemporary history is valuable for the good faith in which it is written, in spite of the ignorance and credulity which it displays. The genius of Charlemagne (r. 768-814) gave a new impulse to learning. By his liberality he attracted the most distinguished scholars to his court, among others Alcuin, from England, whom he chose for his instructor; he established schools of theology and science, and appointed the most learned professors to preside over them. But in the century succeeding his death the country relapsed into barbarism.

In the south of France, Provence early became an independent kingdom, and consolidating its language, laws, and manners, at the close of the eleventh century it gave birth to the literature of the Troubadours; while in the north, the language and literature of the Trouveres, which were the germs of the national literature of France, were not developed until a century later.

In the schools established by Charlemagne for the education of the clergy, the scholastic philosophy originated, which prevailed throughout Europe in the Middle Ages. The most distinguished schoolmen or scholastics in France during this period are Roscellinus (fl. 1092), the originator of the controversy between the Nominalists and Realists, which occupied so prominent a place in the philosophy of the time; Abelard (1079-1142), equally celebrated for his learning, and for his unfortunate love for Heloise; St. Bernard (1091-1153), one of the most influential ecclesiastics of the Middle Ages; and Thomas Aquinas (1227-1274) and Bonaventure (1221-1274), Italians who taught theology and philosophy at Paris, and who powerfully influenced the intellect of the age.

Beginning with the Middle Ages, the literary history of France may be divided into three periods. The first period extends from 1000 to 1500, and includes the literature of the Troubadours, the Trouveres, and of the fifteenth century.

The second period extends from 1500 to 1700, and includes the revival of the study of classical literature, or the Renaissance, and the golden age of French literature under Louis XIV.

The third period, extending from 1700 to 1885, comprises the age of skepticism introduced into French literature by Voltaire, the Encyclopaedists and others, the Revolutionary era, the literature of the Empire and of the Restoration, of the Second Empire, and of the present time.

2. THE LANGUAGE.—After the conquest of Gaul by Julius Caesar, Latin became the predominant language of the country; but on the overthrow of the Western Empire it was corrupted by the intermixture of elements derived from the northern invaders of the country, and from the general ignorance and barbarism of the times. At length a distinction was drawn between the language of the Gauls who called themselves Romans, and that of the Latin writers; and the Romance language arose from the former, while the Latin was perpetuated by the latter. At the commencement of the second race of monarchs, German was the language of Charlemagne and his court, Latin was the written language, and the Romance, still in a state of barbarism, was the dialect of the people. The subjects of Charlemagne were composed of two different races, the Germans, inhabiting along and beyond the Rhine, and the Wallons, who called themselves Romans. The name of Welsch or Wallons, given them by the Germans, was the same as Galli, which they had received from the Latins, and as Keltai or Celts, which they themselves acknowledged. The language which they spoke was called after them the Romance-Wallon, or rustic Romance, which was at first very much the same throughout France, except that as it extended southward the Latin prevailed, and in the north the German was more perceptible. These differences increased, and the languages rapidly grew more dissimilar. The people of the south called themselves Romans- provencaux, while the northern tribes added to the name of Romans, which they had assumed, that of Wallons, which they had received from the neighboring people. The Provencal was called the Langue d'oc, and the Wallon the Langue d'oui, from the affirmative word in each language, as the Italian was then called the Langue de si, and the German the Langue de ya.

The invasion of the Normans, in the tenth century, supplied new elements to the Romance Wallon. They adopted it as their language, and stamped upon it the impress of their own genius. It thus became Norman-French. In 1066, William the Conqueror introduced it into England, and enforced its use among his new subjects by rigorous laws; thus the popular French became there the language of the court and of the educated classes, while it was still the vulgar dialect in France.

From the beginning of the twelfth century, the two dialects were known as the Provencal and the French. The former, though much changed, is still the dialect of the common people in Provence, Languedoc, Catalonia, Valencia, Majorca, and Minorca. In the thirteenth century, the northern French dialect gained the ascendency, chiefly in consequence of Paris becoming the centre of refinement and literature for all France. The Langue d'oui was, from its origin, deficient in that rhythm which exists in the Italian and Spanish languages. It was formed rather by an abbreviation than by a harmonious transformation of the Latin, and the metrical character of the language was gradually lost. The French became thus more accustomed to rhetorical measure than to poetical forms, and the language led them rather to eloquence than poetry. Francis I. established a professorship of the French language at Paris, and banished Latin from the public documents and courts of justice. The Academy, established by Cardinal Richelieu (1635), put an end to the arbitrary power of usage, and fixed the standard of pure French, though at the same time it restricted the power of genius over the language. Nothing was approved by the Academy unless it was received at court, and nothing was tolerated by the public that had not been sanctioned by the Academy. The language now acquired the most admirable precision, and thus recommended itself not only as the language of science and diplomacy, but of society, capable of conveying the most discriminating observations on character and manners, and the most delicate expressions of civility which involve no obligation. Hence its adoption as the court language in so many European countries. Among the dictionaries of the French language, that of the Academy holds the first rank.

PERIOD FIRST.

PROVENCAL AND FRENCH LITERATURES IN THE MIDDLE AGES (1000-1500).

1. THE TROUBADOURS.—When, in the tenth century, the nations of the south of Europe attempted to give consistency to the rude dialects which had been produced by the mixture of the Latin with the northern tongues, the Provencal, or Langue d'oc, was the first to come to perfection. The study of this language became the favorite recreation of the higher classes during the tenth and eleventh centuries, and poetry the elegant occupation of those whose time was not spent in the ruder pastimes of the field. Thousands of poets, who were called troubadours (from trobar, to find or invent), flourished in this new language almost contemporaneously, and spread their reputation from the extremity of Spain to that of Italy. All at once, however, this ephemeral reputation vanished. The voice of the troubadours was silent, the Provencal was abandoned and sank into a mere dialect, and after a brilliant existence of three centuries (950-1250), its productions were ranked among those of the dead languages. The high reputation of the Provencal poets, and the rapid decline of their language, are two phenomena equally striking in the history of human culture. This literature, which gave models to other nations, yet among its crowds of agreeable poems did not produce a single masterpiece destined to immortality, was entirely the offspring of the age, and not of individuals. It reveals to us the sentiments and imagination of modern nations in their infancy; it exhibits what was common to all and pervaded all, and not what genius superior to the age enabled a single individual to accomplish.

Southern France, having been the inheritance of several of the successors of Charlemagne, was elevated to the rank of an independent kingdom in 879, by Bozon, and under his sovereignty, and that of his successors for 213 years, it enjoyed a paternal government. The accession of the Count of Barcelona to the crown, in 1092, introduced into Provence the spirit both of liberty and chivalry, and a taste for elegance and the arts, with all the sciences of the Arabians. The union of these noble sentiments added brilliancy to that poetical spirit which shone out at once over Provence and all the south of Europe, like an electric flash in the midst of profound darkness, illuminating all things with the splendor of its flame.

At the same time with Provencal poetry, chivalry had its rise; it was, in a manner, the soul of the new literature, and gave to it a character different from anything in antiquity. Love, in this age, while it was not more tender and passionate than among the Greeks and Romans, was more respectful, and women were regarded with something of that religious veneration which the Germans evinced towards their prophetesses. To this was added that passionate ardor of feeling peculiar to the people of the South, the expression of which was borrowed from the Arabians. But although among individuals love preserved this pure and religious character, the license engendered by the feudal system, and the disorders of the time, produced a universal corruption of manners which found expression in the literature of the age. Neither the sirventes nor the chanzos of the troubadours, nor the fabliaux of the trouveres, nor the romances of chivalry, can be read without a blush. On every page the grossness of the language is only equaled by the shameful depravity of the characters and the immorality of the incidents. In the south of France, more particularly, an extreme laxity of manners prevailed among the nobility. Gallantry seems to have been the sole object of existence. Ladies were proud of the celebrity conferred upon their charms by the songs of the troubadours, and they themselves often professed the "Gay Science," as poetry was called. They instituted the Courts of Love where questions of gallantry were gravely discussed and decided by their suffrages; and they gave, in short, to the whole south of France the character of a carnival. No sooner had the Gay Science been established in Provence, than it became the fashion in surrounding countries. The sovereigns of Europe adopted the Provencal language, and enlisted themselves among the poets, and there was soon neither baron nor knight who did not feel himself bound to add to his fame as a warrior the reputation of a gentle troubadour. Monarchs were now the professors of the art, and the only patrons were the ladies. Women, no longer beautiful ciphers, acquired complete liberty of action, and the homage paid to them amounted almost to worship.

At the festivals of the haughty barons, the lady of the castle, attended by youthful beauties, distributed crowns to the conquerors in the jousts and tournaments. She then, in turn, surrounded by her ladies, opened her Court of Love, and the candidates for poetical honors entered with their harps and contended for the prize in extempore verses called tensons. The Court of Love then entered upon a grave discussion of the merits of the question, and a judgment or arret d'amour was given, frequently in verse, by which the dispute was supposed to be decided. These courts often formally justified the abandonment of moral duty, and assuming the forms and exercising the power of ordinary tribunals, they defined and prescribed the duties of the sexes, and taught the arts of love and song according to the most depraved moral principles, mingled, however, with an affected display of refined sentimentality. Whatever may have been their utility in the advancement of the language and the cultivation of literary taste, these institutions extended a legal sanction to vice, and inculcated maxims of shameful profligacy.

The songs of the Provencals were divided into chanzos and sirventes; the object of the former was love, and of the latter war, politics, or satire. The name of tenson was given to those poetical contests in verse which took place in the Courts of Love, or before illustrious princes. The songs were sung from chateau to chateau, either by the troubadours themselves, or by the jongleur or instrument player by whom they were attended; they often abounded in extravagant hyperboles, trivial conceits, and grossness of expression. Ladies, whose attractions were estimated by the number and desperation of their lovers, and the songs of their troubadours, were not offended if licentiousness mingled with gallantry in the songs composed in their praise. Authors addressed prayers to the saints for aid in their amorous intrigues, and men, seemingly rational, resigned themselves to the wildest transports of passion for individuals whom, in some cases, they had never seen. Thus, religious enthusiasm, martial bravery, and licentious love, so grotesquely mingled, formed the very life of the Middle Ages, and impossible as it is to transfuse into a translation the harmony of Provencal verse, or to find in it, when stripped of this harmony, any poetical idea, these remains are valuable since they present us with a picture of the life and manners of the times.

The intercourse of the Provencals with the Moors of Spain, which, as we have seen, was greatly increased by the union of Catalonia and Provence (1092), introduced into the North an acquaintance with the arts and learning of the Arabians. It was then that rhyme, the essential characteristic of Arabian poetry, was adopted by the troubadours into the Provencal language, and thence communicated to the nations of modern Europe.

The poetry of the troubadours borrowed nothing from history, mythology, or from foreign manners, and no reference to the sciences or the learning of the schools mingled with their simple effusions of sentiment. This fact enables us to comprehend how it was possible for princes and knights, who were often unable to read, to be yet ranked among the most ingenious troubadours. Several public events, however, materially contributed to enlarge the sphere of intellect of the knights of the Langue d'oc. The first was the conquest of Toledo and Castile by Alphonso VI., in which he was seconded by the Cid Rodriguez, the hero of Spain, and by a number of French Provencal knights; the second was the preaching of the Crusades. Of all the events recorded in the history of the world, there is, perhaps, not one of a nature so highly poetical as these holy wars; not one which presents a more powerful picture of the grand effects of enthusiasm, of noble sacrifices of self-interest to faith, sentiment, and passion, which are essentially poetical. Many of the troubadours assumed the cross; others were detained in Europe by the bonds of love, and the conflict between passion and religious enthusiasm lent its influence to the poems they composed. The third event was the succession of the kings of England to the sovereignty of a large part of the countries where the Langue d'oc prevailed, which influenced the manners and opinions of the troubadours, and introduced them to the courts of the most powerful monarchs; while the encouragement given to them by the kings of the house of Plantagenet had a great influence on the formation of the English language, and furnished Chaucer, the father of English literature, with his first models for imitation.

The troubadours numbered among their ranks the most illustrious sovereigns and heroes of the age. Among others, Richard Coeur de Lion, who, as a poet and knight, united in his own person all the brilliant qualities of the time. A story is told of him, that when he was detained a prisoner in Germany, the place of his imprisonment was discovered by Blondel, his minstrel, who sang beneath the fortress a tenson which he and Richard had composed in common, and to which Richard responded. Bertrand de Born, who was intimately connected with Richard, and who exercised a powerful influence over the destinies of the royal family of England, has left a number of original poems; Sordello of Mantua was the first to adopt the ballad form of writing, and many of his love songs are expressed in a pure and delicate style. Both of these poets are immortalized in the Divine Comedy of Dante. The history of Geoffrey Rudel illustrates the wildness of the imagination and manners of the troubadours. He was a gentleman of Provence, and hearing the knights who had returned from the Holy Land speak with enthusiasm of the Countess of Tripoli, who had extended to them the most generous hospitality, and whose grace and beauty equaled her virtues, he fell in love with her without ever having seen her, and, leaving the Court of England, he embarked for the Holy Land, to offer to her the homage of his heart. During the voyage he was attacked by a severe illness, and lost the power of speech. On his arrival in the harbor, the countess, being informed that a celebrated poet was dying of love for her, visited him on shipboard, took him kindly by the hand, and attempted to cheer his spirits. Rudel revived sufficiently to thank the lady for her humanity and to declare his passion, when his voice was silenced by the convulsions of death. He was buried at Tripoli, and, by the orders of the countess, a tomb of porphyry was erected to his memory. It is unnecessary to mention other names among the multitude of these poets, who all hold nearly the same rank. An extreme monotony reigns throughout their works, which offer little individuality of character.

After the thirteenth century, the troubadours were heard no more, and the efforts of the counts of Provence, the magistrates of Toulouse, and the kings of Arragon to awaken, their genius by the Courts of Love and the Floral Games were vain. They themselves attributed their decline to the degradation into which the jongleurs, with whom at last they were confounded, had fallen. But their art contained within itself a more immediate principle of decay in the profound ignorance of its professors. They had no other models than the songs of the Arabians, which perverted their taste. They made no attempt at epic or dramatic poetry; they had no classical allusions, no mythology, nor even a romantic imagination, and, deprived of the riches of antiquity, they had few resources within themselves. The poetry of Provence was a beautiful flower springing up on a sterile soil, and no cultivation could avail in the absence of its natural nourishment. From the close of the twelfth century the language began to decline, and public events occurred which hastened its downfall, and reduced it to the condition of a provincial dialect.

Among the numerous sects which sprang up in Christendom during the Middle Ages, there was one which, though bearing different names at different times, more or less resembled what is now known as Protestantism; in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries it was called the faith of the Albigenses, as it prevailed most widely in the district of Albi. It easily came to be identified with the Provencal language, as this was the chosen vehicle of its religious services. This sect was tolerated and protected by the Court of Toulouse. It augmented its numbers; it devoted itself to commerce and the arts, and added much to the prosperity which had long distinguished the south of France. The Albigenses had lived long and peaceably side by side with the Catholics in the cities and villages; but Innocent III. sent legates to Provence, who preached, discussed, and threatened, and met a freedom of thought and resistance to authority which Rome was not willing to brook. Bitter controversy was now substituted for the amiable frivolity of the tensons, and theological disputes superseded those on points of gallantry. The long struggle between the poetry of the troubadours and the preaching of the monks came to a crisis; the severe satires which the disorderly lives of the clergy called forth became severer still, and the songs of the troubadours wounded the power and pride of Rome more deeply than ever, while they stimulated the Albigenses to a valiant resistance or a glorious death. A crusade followed, and when the dreadful strife was over, Provencal poetry had received its death-blow. The language of Provence was destined to share the fate of its poetry; it became identified in the minds of the orthodox with heresy and rebellion. When Charles of Anjou acquired the kingdom of Naples, he drew thither the Provencal nobility, and thus drained the kingdom of those who had formerly maintained its chivalrous manners. In the beginning of the fourteenth century, when the Court of Rome was removed to Avignon, the retinues of the three successive popes were Italians, and the Tuscan language entirely superseded the Provencal among the higher classes.

2. THE TROUVERES.—While the Provencal was thus relapsing into a mere dialect, the north of France was maturing a new language and literature of an entirely different character. Normandy, a province of France, was invaded in the tenth century by a new northern tribe, who, under the command of Rollo or Raoul the Dane, incorporated themselves with the ancient inhabitants. The victors adopted the language of the vanquished, stamped upon it the impress of their own genius, and gave it a fixed form. It was from Normandy that the first writers and poets in the French language sprang. While the Romance Provencal spoken in the South was sweet, and expressive of effeminate manners, the Romance-Wallon was energetic and warlike, and represented the severer manners of the Germans. Its poetry, too, was widely different from the Provencal. It was no longer the idle baron sighing for his lady-love, but the songs of a nation of hardy warriors, celebrating the prowess of their ancestors with all the exaggerations that fancy could supply. The Langue d'oui became the vehicle of literature only in the twelfth century,—a hundred years subsequent to the Romance Provencal. The poets and reciters of tales, giving the name of Troubadour a French termination, called themselves Trouveres. They originated the brilliant romances of chivalry, the fabliaux or tales of amusement, and the dramatic invention of the Mysteries. The first literary work in this tongue is the versified romance of a fabulous history of the early kings of England, beginning with Brutus, the grandson of AEneas, who, after passing many enchanted isles, at length establishes himself in England, where he finds King Arthur, the chivalric institution of the Round Table, and the enchanter Merlin, one of the most popular personages of the Middle Ages. Out of this legend arose some of the boldest creations of the human fancy. The word "romance," now synonymous with fictitious composition, originally meant only a work in the modern dialect, as distinguished from the scholastic Latin. There is little doubt that these tales were originally believed to be strictly true. One of the first romances of chivalry was "Tristam de Leonois," written in 1190. This was soon followed by that of the "San Graal" and "Lancelot;" and previously to 1213 Ville-Hardouin had written in the French language a "History of the Conquest of Constantinople." The poem of "Alexander," however, which appeared about the same time, has enjoyed the greatest reputation. It is a series of romances and marvelous histories, said to be the result of the labors of nine celebrated poets of the time. Alexander is introduced, surrounded not by the pomp of antiquity, but by the splendors of chivalry. The high renown of this poem has given the name of Alexandrine verse to the measure in which it is written.

The spirit of chivalry which burst forth in the romances of the trouveres, the heroism of honor and love, the devotion of the powerful to the weak, the supernatural fictions, so novel and so dissimilar to everything in antiquity or in later times, the force and brilliancy of imagination which they display, have been variously attributed to the Arabians and the Germans, but they were undoubtedly the invention of the Normans. Of all the people of ancient Europe, they were the most adventurous and intrepid. They established a dynasty in Russia; they cut their way through a perfidious and sanguinary nation to Constantinople; they landed on the coasts of England and France, and surprised nations who were ignorant of their existence; they conquered Sicily, and established a principality in the heart of Syria. A people so active, so enterprising, and so intrepid, found no greater delight in their leisure hours than listening to tales of adventures, dangers, and battles. The romances of chivalry are divided into three distinct classes. They relate to three different epochs in the early part of the Middle Ages, and represent three bands of fabulous heroes. In the romances of the first class, the exploits of Arthur, son of Pendragon, the last British king who defended England against the invasion of the Anglo-Saxons, are celebrated. In the second we find the Amadises, but whether they belong to French literature has been reasonably disputed. The scene is placed nearly in the same countries as in the romances of the Round Table, but there is a want of locality about them, and the name and the times are absolutely fabulous. "Amadis of Gaul," the first of these romances, and the model of all the rest, is claimed as the work of Vasco Lobeira, a Portuguese (1290-1325); but no doubt exists with regard to the continuations and numerous imitations of this work, which are incontestably of Spanish origin, and were in their highest repute when Cervantes produced his inimitable "Don Quixote." The third class of chivalric romances, relating to the court of Charlemagne and his Paladins, is entirely French, although their celebrity is chiefly due to the renowned Italian poet who availed himself of their fictions. The most ancient monument of the marvelous history of Charlemagne is the chronicle of Turpin, of uncertain date, and which, though fabulous, can scarcely be considered as a romance. This and other similar narratives furnished materials for the romances, which appeared at the conclusion of the Crusades, when a knowledge of the East had enriched the French imagination with all the treasures of the Arabian. The trouveres were not only the inventors of the romances of chivalry, but they originated the allegories, and the dramatic compositions of southern Europe. Although none of their works have obtained a high reputation or deserve to be ranked among the masterpieces of human intellect, they are still worthy of attention as monuments of the progress of mind.

The French possessed, above every other nation of modern times, an inventive spirit, but they were, at the same time, the originators of those tedious allegorical poems which have been imitated by all the romantic nations. The most ancient and celebrated of these is the "Romance of the Rose," though not a romance in the present sense of the word. At the period of its composition, the French language was still called the Romance, and all its more voluminous productions Romances. The "Romance of the Rose" was the work of two authors, Guillaume de Lorris, who commenced it in the early part of the thirteenth century, and Jean de Meun (b. 1280), by whom it was continued. Although it reached the appalling length of twenty thousand verses, no book was ever more popular. It was admired as a masterpiece of wit, invention, and philosophy; the highest mysteries of theology were believed to be concealed in this poetical form, and learned commentaries were written upon its veiled meaning by preachers, who did not scruple to cite passages from it in the pulpit. But the tedious poem and its numberless imitations are nothing but rhymed prose, which it would be impossible to recognize as poetry, if the measure of the verse were taken away.

In considering the popularity of these long, didactic works, it must not be forgotten that the people of that day were almost entirely without books. A single volume was the treasure of a whole household. In unfavorable weather it was read to a circle around the fire, and when it was finished the perusal was again commenced. No comparison with other books enabled men to form a judgment upon its merits. It was reverenced like holy writ, and they accounted themselves happy in being able to comprehend it.

Another species of poetry peculiar to this period had at least the merit of being exceedingly amusing. This was the fabliaux, tales written in verse in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. They are treasures of invention, simplicity, and gayety, of which other nations can furnish no instances, except by borrowing from the French. A collection of Indian tales, translated into Latin in the tenth or eleventh century, was the first storehouse of the trouveres. The Arabian tales, transmitted by the Moors to the Castilians, and by the latter to the French, were in turn versified. But above all, the anecdotes collected in the towns and castles of France, the adventures of lovers, the tricks of gallants, and the numerous subjects gathered from the manners of the age, afforded inexhaustible materials for ludicrous narratives to the writers of these tales. They were treasures common to all. We seldom know the name of the trouvere by whom these anecdotes were versified. As they were related, each one varied them according to the impression he wished to produce. At this period there were neither theatrical entertainments nor games at cards to fill up the leisure hours of society, and the trouveres or relators of the tales were welcomed at the courts, castles, and private houses with an eagerness proportioned to the store of anecdotes which they brought with them to enliven conversation. Whatever was the subject of their verse, legends, miracles, or licentious anecdotes, they were equally acceptable. These tales were the models of those of Boccaccio, La Fontaine, and others. Some of them have had great fame, and have passed from tongue to tongue, and from age to age, down to our own times. Several of them have been introduced upon the stage, and others formed the originals of Parnell's "Hermit," of the "Zaire" of Voltaire, and of the "Renard," which Goethe has converted into a long poem. But perhaps the most interesting and celebrated of all the fabliaux is that of "Aucassin and Nicolette," which has furnished the subject for a well-known opera.

It was at this period, when the ancient drama was entirely forgotten, that a dramatic form was given to the great events which accompanied the establishment of the Christian religion. The first to introduce this grotesque species of composition, were the pilgrims who had returned from the Holy Land. In the twelfth or thirteenth centuries, their dramatic representations were first exhibited in the open streets; but it was only at the conclusion of the fourteenth that a company of pilgrims undertook to amuse the public by regular dramatic entertainments. They were called the Fraternity of the Passion, from the passion of our Saviour being one of their most celebrated representations. This mystery, the most ancient dramatic work of modern Europe, comprehends the whole history of our Lord, from his baptism to his death. The piece was too long for one representation, and was therefore continued from day to day. Eighty-seven characters successively appear in this mystery, among whom are the three persons of the Trinity, angels, apostles, devils, and a host of other personages, the invention of the poet's brain. To fill the comic parts, the dialogues of the devils were introduced, and their eagerness to maltreat one another always produced much laughter in the assembly. Extravagant machinery was employed to give to the representation the pomp which we find in the modern opera; and this drama, placing before the eyes of a Christian assembly all those incidents for which they felt the highest veneration, must have affected them much more powerfully than even the finest tragedies can do at the present day.

The mystery of the Passion was followed by a crowd of imitations. The whole of the Old Testament, and the lives of all the saints, were brought upon the stage. The theatre on which these mysteries were represented was always composed of an elevated scaffold divided into three parts,—heaven, hell, and the earth between them. The proceedings of the Deity and Lucifer might be discerned in their respective abodes, and angels descended and devils ascended, as their interference in mundane affairs was required. The pomp of these representations went on increasing for two centuries, and, as great value was set upon the length of the piece, some mysteries could not be represented in less than forty days.

The "Clerks of the Revels," an incorporated society at Paris, whose duty it was to regulate the public festivities, resolved to amuse the people with dramatic representations themselves, but as the Fraternity of the Passion had obtained a royal license to represent the mysteries, they were compelled to abstain from that kind of exhibition. They therefore invented a new one, to which they gave the name of "Moralities," and which differed little from the mysteries, except in name. They were borrowed from the Parables, or the historical parts of the Bible, or they were purely allegorical. To the Clerks of the Revels we also owe the invention of modern comedy. They mingled their moralities with farces, the sole object of which was to excite laughter, and in which all the gayety and vivacity of the French character were displayed. Some of these plays still retain their place upon the French stage. At the commencement of the fifteenth century another comic company was established, who introduced personal and even political satire upon the stage. Thus every species of dramatic representation was revived by the French. This was the result of the talent for imitation so peculiar to the French people, and of that pliancy of thought and correctness of intellect which enables them to conceive new characters. All these inventions, which led to the establishment of the Romantic drama in other countries, were known in France more than a century before the rise of the Spanish or Italian theatre, and even before the classical authors were first studied and imitated. At the end of the sixteenth century, these new pursuits acquired a more immediate influence over the literature of France, and wrought a change in its spirit and rules, without, however, altering the national character and taste which had been manifested in the earliest productions of the trouveres.

3. FRENCH LITERATURE IN THE FIFTEENTH CENTURY.—French had as yet been merely a popular language; it varied from province to province, and from author to author, because no masterpiece had inaugurated any one of its numerous dialects. It was disdained by the more serious writers, who continued to employ the Latin. In the fifteenth century literature assumed a somewhat wider range, and the language began to take precision and force. But with much general improvement and literary industry there was still nothing great or original, nothing to mark an epoch in the history of letters. The only poets worthy of notice were Charles, Duke of Orleans (1391-1465), and Villon, a low ruffian of Paris (1431-1500). Charles was taken prisoner at the battle of Agincourt, and carried to England, where he was detained for twenty-five years, and where he wrote a volume of poems in which he imitated the allegorical style of the Romance of the Rose. The verses of Villon were inspired by the events of his not very creditable life. Again and again he suffered imprisonment for petty larcenies, and at the age of twenty-five was condemned to be hanged. His language is not that of the court, but of the people; and his poetry marks the first sensible progress after the Romance of the Rose.

It has been well said that literature begins with poetry; but it is established by prose, which fixes the language. The earliest work in French prose is the chronicle of Ville-Hardouin (1150-1213), written in the thirteenth century. It is a personal narrative and relates with graphic particularity the conquest of Constantinople by the knights of Christendom. This ancient chronicle traces out for us some of the realities, of which the mediaeval romances were the ideal, and enables us to judge in a measure how far these romances embody substantial truth.

A great improvement in style is apparent in Joinville (1223-1317), the amiable and light-hearted ecclesiastic who wrote the Life of St. Louis, whom he had accompanied to the Holy Land, and whose pious adventures he affectionately records. Notwithstanding the anarchy which prevailed in France during the fourteenth century, some social progress was made; but while public events were hostile to poetry, they gave inspiration to the historic muse, and Froissart arose to impart vivacity of coloring to historic narrative.

Froissart (1337-1410) was an ecclesiastic of the day, but little in his life or writings bespeaks the sacred calling. Having little taste for the duties of his profession, he was employed by the Lord of Montfort to compose a chronicle of the wars of the time; but there were no books to tell him of the past, no regular communication between nations to inform him of the present; so he followed the fashion of knights errant, and set out on horseback, not to seek adventures, but, as an itinerant historian, to find materials for his chronicle. He wandered from town to town, and from castle to castle, to see the places of which he would write, and to learn events on the spot where they occurred. His first journey was to England; here he was employed by Queen Philippa of Hainault to accompany the Duke of Clarence to Milan, where he met Boccaccio and Chaucer. He afterwards passed into the service of several of the princes of Europe, to whom he acted as secretary and poet, always gleaning material for historic record. His book is an almost universal history of the different states of Europe, from 1322 to the end of the fourteenth century. He troubles himself with no explanations or theories of cause and effect, nor with the philosophy of state policy; he is simply a graphic story-teller. Sir Walter Scott called Froissart his master.

Philippe de Commines (1445-1509) was a man of his age, but in advance of it, combining the simplicity of the fifteenth century with the sagacity of a later period. An annalist, like Froissart, he was also a statesman, and a political philosopher; embracing, like Machiavelli and Montesquieu, the remoter consequences which flowed from the events he narrated and the principles he unfolded. He was an unscrupulous diplomat in the service of Louis XI., and his description of the last years of that monarch is a striking piece of history, whence poets and novelists have borrowed themes in later times. But neither the romance of Sir Walter Scott nor the song of Beranger does justice to the reality, as presented by the faithful Commines.

PERIOD SECOND.

THE RENAISSANCE AND THE GOLDEN AGE OF FRENCH LITERATURE (1500-1700).

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'Heptameron," 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'Heptameron 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 levees; 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 Sevigne (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 Deshoulieres, 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 litterateurs, such as Balzac, Voiture, Menage, Scudery, Chaplain, Costart, Conrad, and the Abbe 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, "Melite," 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 "Pensees 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 Moliere 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 "Pensees 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, Moliere 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 Bruyere with moral philosophy; Fenelon and Madame de Lafayette with romance; and Madame de Sevigne 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 Sevigne; and he seems not even to have observed La Bruyere, 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 Fenelon; 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, Crebillon (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 Moliere (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 "Precieuses 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 litterateurs, 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 chere, ma precieuse, were the terms most frequently used by the leaders of this world of folly, and a precieuse 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. Moliere, 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 Pere la Chaise. The best of Moliere'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 Sabliere 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 debut 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 Deshoulieres (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. Flechier (1632-1710), another court preacher, renowned chiefly as a rhetorician, was not free from the affectation of Les Precieuses; 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 Fenelon, 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 Fenelon from court, and the disgrace of his friends; and through his influence the pope condemned the "Maxims of the Saints," in which Fenelon 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 Conde, 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 Sevigne, 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 Bruyere (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 Bruyere 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, Mezeray (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 Abbe 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, Brantome (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 litterateurs 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 Fenelon (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 Sevigne 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 Sevigne'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, Conde, 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.