Page 12 of A History of the French Novel, Vol. 1

  CHAPTER VIII

  THE SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY NOVEL--I

  _The Pastoral and Heroic Romance, and the Fairy Story_

  [Sidenote: Immense importance of the seventeenth century in oursubject.]

  The seventeenth century, almost if not quite from its beginning, ranksin French literature as the eighteenth does with us, that is to say, asthe time of origin of novels or romances which can be called, in anysense, modern. In its first decade appeared the epoch-makingpastoral-heroic _Astree_ of Honore d'Urfe;[124] its middle period, from1620 to 1670, was the principal birth-time of the famous "Heroic"variety, pure and simple; while, from that division into the last third,the curiously contrasted kind of the fairy tale came to add its quota ofinfluence. At various periods, too, individuals of more or less note(and sometimes of much more than almost any of the "school-writers" justmentioned) helped mightily in strengthening and diversifying thesubjects and manners of tales. To this period also belongs thecontinuance and prominence of that element of actual "lived" anecdoteand personal history which has been mentioned more than once before. The_Historiettes_ of Tallemant contain short suggestions for a hundrednovels and romances; the memoirs, genuine or forged, of public andprivate persons have not seldom, in more modern times, formed the actualbasis of some of the greatest fiction. Everybody ought long to haveknown Thackeray's perhaps rather whimsical declaration that hepositively preferred the forged D'Artagnan memoirs of Courtils deSandras (as far at least as the Gascon himself was concerned) to thework of that Alexander, the truly Great, of which he was neverthelesssuch a generous admirer: and recently mere English readers have had theopportunity of seeing whether they agree with him. In fact, as thecentury went on, almost all kinds of literature began to be more or lesspervaded with the novel appeal and quality.

  [Sidenote: The divisions of its contribution.]

  The letters of "Notre Dame des Rochers" constantly read like parts orscenes of a novel, and so do various compositions of her ill-conditionedbut not unintelligent cousin Bussy-Rabutin. Camus de Pontcarre in theearlier and Fenelon in the later century determined that the Devilshould not have this good prose to himself, and our own Anthony Hamiltonshowed the way to Voltaire in a kind, of which, though the Devil hadnothing immediately to do with it, he might perhaps make use later. Infact, the whole century teems with the spirit of tale-telling, _plus_character-analysis; and in the eighteenth itself, with a few notableexceptions, there was rather a falling-off from, than a further advancetowards, the full blossoming of the aloe in the nineteenth.

  It will probably, therefore, not be excessive to give two chapters (andtwo not short ones) to this period. In the first of them we may take thetwo apparently opposite, but by no means irreconcilable schools ofPastoral and Heroic Romance[125] and of Fairy Tale, including perhapsonly four persons, if so many, of first-rate literary rank--Urfe,[126]Madeleine de Scudery, Madame d'Aulnoy, and Perrault; in the second, themore isolated but in some cases not unimportant names and works ofSorel, Scarron, Furetiere, and the capital ones of Madame de la Fayetteand Hamilton. According to the plan previously pursued, less attemptwill be made to give exhaustive or even full lists of practitioners thanto illustrate their practice thoroughly by example, translated orabstracted, and by criticism; and it is necessary that this lattercourse should be used without mercy to readers or to the historianhimself in this first chapter. For there is hardly any department ofliterature which has been more left to the rather treacherous care oftraditional and second- or seventh-hand judgment than the Heroicromance.[127]

  * * * * *

  [Sidenote: The Pastoral in general.]

  The Pastoral, as being of the most ancient and in a literary sense ofthe highest formal rank, may occupy us first, but by no means longest. Agreat deal of attention (perhaps a great deal more than was at allnecessary) has been paid to the pastoral element in various kinds ofliterature. The thing is certainly curious, and inevitably invitedcomment; but unfortunately it has peculiar temptations to a kind ofcomment which, though very fashionable for some time past, is rarelyprofitable. Pastorals of the most interesting kind actually exist inliterature: "pastoralism" in the abstract, unless treated in the purehistorical manner, is apt, like all similar criticism and discussion of"kinds" in general, to tend to [Greek: phlyaria].[128] For a history ina nutshell there is perhaps room even here, because the relations of thething to fiction cannot be well understood without it. That theassociation of shepherds,[129] with songs, and with the telling of"tales" in both senses, is immensely old, is a fact which the HebrewScriptures establish, and almost the earliest Greek mythology and poetryconfirm; but the wiser mind, here as elsewhere, will probably be contentwith the fact, and not enquire too busybodily into the reason. Theconnection between Sicily--apparently a land of actual pastorallife--and Alexandria--the home of the first professional man-of-lettersschool, as it may be called--perhaps supplies something more; the actualbeauty of the Sicilian-Alexandrian poems, more still; the adoption ofthe form by Virgil, who was revered at Rome, renowned somewhatheterodoxically in the Middle Ages, and simply adored by theRenaissance, most of all. So, in English, Spenser and Milton, in French,Marot and others niched it solidly in the nation's poetry; and thecertainly charming _Daphnis and Chloe_, when vernacularised, transferredits influence from verse to prose in almost all the countries of Europe.

  To what may be called "common-sense" criticism, there is, of course, noform of literature, in either prose or verse, which is more utterlyabhorrent and more helplessly exposed. Unsympathetic, and in some pointsunfair and even unintelligent, as Johnson's criticism of _Lycidas_ mayseem, to the censure of its actual "pastorality" there is no answer,except that "these things are an allegory" as well as a convention. Togo further out of mere common-sense objections, and yet stick to theDevil's-Advocate line, there is no form which lends itself to--which,indeed, insists upon--conventions of the most glaring unreality morethan the pastoral, and none in which the decorations, unless managedwith extraordinary genius, have such a tendency to be tawdry at best,draggled and withered at worst. Nevertheless, the fact remains that atalmost all times, both in ancient literature and since the revival ofletters, as well as in some probably more spontaneous forms during theMiddle Ages themselves,[130] pastorals have been popular with thevulgar, and practised by the elect; while within the very last hundredyears such a towering genius as Shelley's, and such a manifold andeffectual talent as Mr. Arnold's, have selected it for some of theirvery best work.

  Such adoption, moreover, had, for the writer of prose fiction, somepeculiar and pretty obvious inducements. It has been noticed by allcareful students of fiction that one of the initial difficulties in itsway, and one of those which do not seem to get out of that way veryquickly, is diffidence on the writer's part "how to begin." It may besaid that this is not peculiar to fiction; but extends from the poet whonever can get beyond the first lines of his epic to the journalist whosits for an hour gazing at the blank paper for his article, and returnshome at midnight, if not like Miss Bolo "in a flood of tears and a sedanchair," at any rate in a tornado of swearing at himself and (while therewere such things) a hansom cab. Pastoral gives both easy beginning andsupporting framework.

  [Sidenote: Its beginnings in France.]

  [Sidenote: Minor romances preceding the _Astree_.]

  The transformation of the older pastoral form into the newer began,doubtless, with the rendering into French of _Daphnis and Chloe_,[131]which appeared in the same year with the complete _Heptameron_ (1559).Twelve years later, in 1571, Belleforest's _La Pyrenee et PastoraleAmoureuse_ rather took the title than exemplified the kind; but in 1578the translation of Montemayor's _Diana_ definitely turned the currentinto the new-old channel. It was not, however, till seven years laterstill that "_Les Bergeries de Juliette_, de l'invention d'Ollenix duMont Sacre" (a rather exceptionally foolish anagram of Nicolas deMontreux) essayed something original in the style. Montreux issued hiswork, of which more presently, again and again in five i
nstalments, thelast of which appeared thirteen years later than the first. And it hasbeen proved with immense bibliographical labour by M. Reynier,[132] thatthough the last decade of the sixteenth century in France was almost asfertile in short love-romances[133] as ours was in sonnet-cycles, thepastoral form was, whether deliberately or not, for the most parteschewed, though there were one or two exceptions of little if anyconsequence. It is indeed noteworthy that (only four years before thefirst part of the _Astree_) a second translation or the _Diana_ cameout. But it was not till 1607 that this first part actually appeared,and in the opinion of its own time generally, and our own time for themost part, though not in that of the interval, made a new epoch in thehistory of French fiction.

  [Sidenote: Their general character.]

  The general characteristics of this curious and numerous, but almostforgotten, body of work--which must, be it remembered, have exercisedinfluence, more or less, on the progress of the novel by the ways ofsupply, demand, and reaction alike--have been carefully analysed by M.Reynier, with whom, in regard to one or two points of opinion, one maydiffer, but whose statements of fact are certainly trustworthy. Short asthey usually are, and small as is the literary power displayed in mostof them, it is clear that they, long before Rambouillet and the_precieuses_, indicate a distinct reaction against merely brutal andferocious manners, with a standard of "courtiership" in both senses. Ourdear Reine Margot herself in one case prescribes, what one hopes shefound not merely in La Mole, but in others of those transitorily happyones whose desiccated hearts did or did not distend the pockets of herfarthingale as live Persian kittens do those of their merchants. To be alover you must have "a stocking void of holes, a ruff, a sword, a plume,_and a knowledge how to talk_." This last point is illustrated in theseminiature romances after a fashion on which one of the differences ofopinion above hinted at may arise. It is not, as in the later "Heroics,"shown merely in lengthy harangues, but in short and almost dramatiseddialogue. No doubt this is often clumsy, but it may seem to have beennot a whole mistake in itself--only an abortive attempt at somethingwhich, much later again, had to come before real novel-writing could beachieved, and which the harangues of the Scudery type could never haveprovided. There is a little actual history in them--not thekey-cryptograms of the "Heroics" or their adoption of ancient anddistant historic frames. In a very large proportion, forced marriages,proposed and escaped from, supply the plot; in not a few, forced"vocations" to the conventual life. Elopements are as common asabductions in the next stage, and are generally conducted with as muchpropriety. Courtships of married women, and lapses by them, are veryrare.

  [Sidenote: Examples of their style.]

  No one will be surprised to hear that the "Phebus" or systematisedconceit, for which the period is famous, and which the belovedMarguerite herself did not a little favour, is abundant in them. From alarge selection of M. Reynier's, I cull, as perhaps the most delightfulof all these, if not also of all known to me in any language, thefollowing:

  During this task, Love, who had ambushed himself, plunged his wings in the tears of the lover, and dried them in the burning breast of the maiden.

  "A squadron of sighs" is unambitious, but neat, terse, and very temptingto the imagination. More complicated is a lady "floating on the sea ofthe persecution of her Prince, who would fain give her up to theshipwreck of his own concupiscence."

  And I like this:

  The grafts of our desires being inarched long since in the tree of our loves, the branches thereof bore the lovely bouquets of our hopes.

  And this is fine:

  Paper! that the rest of your white surface may not blush at my shame, suffer me to blacken it with my sorrow!

  It has always been a sad mystery to me why rude and dull intelligencesshould sneer at, or denounce, these delightful fantastries, the verystuff of which dreams and love and poetry--the three best things oflife--are made.[134]

  [Sidenote: Montreux and the _Bergeries de Juliette_.]

  The British Museum possesses not very many of the, I believe, numerousworks of Nicolas de Montreux, _alias_, as has been said, Ollenix du MontSacre, a "gentleman of Maine," as he scrupulously designates himself.But it does possess two parts (the first two) of the _Bergeries deJuliette_, and I am not in the least surprised that no reader of themshould have worried any librarian into completing the set. Each of theseparts is a stout volume of some five hundred pages,[135] not very small,of close small print, filled with stuff of the most deadly dulness. Forinstance, Ollenix is desirous to illustrate the magnificence and thedanger of those professional persons of the other sex at Venice who havefilled no small place in literature from Coryat to Rousseau. So he tellsus, without a gleam or suspicion of humour, that one customer was soastonied at the decorations of the bedroom, the bed, etc., that heremained for two whole hours considering them, and forgetting to pay anyattention to the lady. It is satisfactory to know that she revengedherself by raising the fee to an inordinate amount, and insisting on herabsurd client's lackey being sent to fetch it before the actualconference took place. But the silliness of the story itself is a fairsample of Montreux' wits, and these wits manage to make anything theydeal with duller by their way of telling it.

  [Sidenote: Des Escuteaux and his _Amours Diverses_.]

  It is still more unfortunate that our national collection has none ofthe numerous fictions[136] of A(ntoine?) de Nerveze. His _AmoursDiverses_ (1606), in which he collected no less than seven love-stories,published separately earlier, would be useful. But it luckily doesprovide the similarly titled book of Des Escuteaux, who is perhaps themost representative and prolific writer, next to Montreux and Nerveze,of the whole, and who seems to me, from what I have read of the firstand what others say of the second, to be their superior. The collectionsconsist of (_Amours de_ in every case) _Filiris et Isolia_, dedicated toIsabel (not "-bel_le_") de Rochechouart; _Clarimond et Antoinette_ (toLucresse [_sic_] de Bouille); _Clidamant et Marilinde_ (to _Jane_ de laBrunetiere), and _Ipsilis et Alixee_ (to Renee de Cosse, Amirale deFrance!).[137]

  Some readers may be a little "put off" by a habit which Des Escuteauxhas, especially in the first story of the volume, of prefixing, as indrama, the names of the speakers--_Le Prince_, _La Princesse_, etc.--tothe first paragraphs of the harangues and _histoires_ of which thesebooks so largely consist.[138] But it is not universal. The mostinteresting of the four is, I think, _Clidamant et Marilinde_, for itintroduces the religious wars, a sojourn of the lovers on a desertisland, which M. Reynier[139] not unjustly calls Crusoe-like, and other"varieties."

  [Sidenote: Francois de Moliere--_Polyxene._]

  I have not seen the other--quite other, and Francois--Moliere's _SemaineAmoureuse_, which belongs to this class, though later than most; but hisstill later _Polyxene_, a sort of half-way house between these shorternovels and the ever-enlarged "Heroics," is a very fat duodecimo of 1100pages. The heroine has two lovers--one with the singular name ofCloryman,--but love does not run smooth with either, and she ends bytaking the (pagan) veil. The bathos of the thought and style may bejudged from the heroine's affecting mention of an entertainment as "thelast _ballet_ my unhappy father ever saw."

  [Sidenote: Du Perier--_Arnoult et Clarimonde._]

  Not one of the worst of these four or five score minors, though scarcelyin itself a positively good thing, is the Sieur du Perier's _La Haine etl'Amour d'Arnoult et de Clarimonde_. It begins with a singularly banalexordium, gravely announcing that Hate and Love _are_ among the mostimportant passions, with other statements of a similar kind couched incommonplace language. But it does something to bring the novel from anuninteresting cloudland to earth by dealing with the recent and stillvividly felt League wars: and there is some ingenuity shown in plottingthe conversion of the pair from more than "a little aversion" at thebeginning to nuptial union--_not_ at the end. For it is one of thepoints about the book which are not commonplace, though it may be asurvival or atavism from mediaeval practice--that the latter part
of itis occupied mainly, not with Arnoult and Clarimonde, but with the loves,fortunes, and misfortunes of their daughter Claride.

  [Sidenote: Du Croset--_Philocalie._ Corbin--_Philocaste._]

  The _Philocalie_ of Du Croset (1593) derives its principal interest fromits being not merely a _Bergerie_ before the _Astree_, but, like it, thework of a Forezian gentleman who proudly asserts his territoriality, anddedicates his book to the "Chevalier D'Urfe." And its part name-fellow,the _Philocaste_ of Jean Corbin--a very tiny book, the heroine of whichis (one would hardly have thought it from her name) a Princess ofEngland--is almost entirely composed of letters, discourse on them, anda few interspersed verses. It belongs to the division ofbackward-looking novels, semi-chivalrous in type, and its hero is asoften called "The Black Knight" as by his name.

  [Sidenote: Jean de Lannoi and his _Roman Satirique_.]

  The _Roman Satirique_ (1624) of Jean de Lannoi is another example of thecurious inability to "hit it off" which has been mentioned so often ascharacterising the period. Its 1100 pages are far too many, though it isfair to say that the print is exceptionally large and loose. Much of itis not in any sense "satiric," and it seems to have derived whatpopularity it had almost wholly from the "key" interest.

  [Sidenote: Beroalde de Verville outside the _Moyen de Parvenir_.]

  The minor works--if the term may be used when the attribution of themajor is by no means certain--of Beroalde de Verville have, as is usual,been used both ways as arguments for and against his authorship of the_Moyen de Parvenir_. _Les Aventures de Floride_ is simply an attempt,and a big one in size, to _amadigauliser_, as the literary slang of thetime went. The _Histoire Veritable_, owing nothing but its title andpart of its idea to Lucian, and sub-titled _Les Princes Fortunes_, isless conventional. It has a large fancy map for a frontispiece; thereare fairies in it, and a sort of _pot-pourri_ of queernesses which mightnot impossibly have come from the author or editor of the _Moyen_ in hisless inconveniently ultra-Pantagruelist moments. _Le Cabinet de Minerve_is actually a glorification of "honest" love. In fact, Beroalde is oneof the oddest of "polygraphers," and there is nobody quite like him inEnglish, though some of his fellows may be matched, after a fashion,with our Elizabethan pamphleteers. I have long wished to read the wholeof him, but I suppose I never shall.

  And it is time to leave these very minor stars and come to the full andgracious moon of the _Astree_ itself.

  [Sidenote: The _Astree_--its author.]

  Honore D'Urfe, who was three years younger than Shakespeare, and died inthe year in which Charles I. came to the throne, was a cadet of a veryancient family in the district or minor province of Forez, where his ownfamous Lignon runs into the Loire. He was a pupil of the Jesuits andearly _fort en theme_, was a strenuous _ligueur_, and, though (orperhaps also because) he was very good friends with Henri's estrangedwife, Margot, for some time decidedly suspect to Henri IV. For thisreason, and others of property, etc., he became almost a naturalisedSavoyard, but died in the service of his own country at the beginning ofRichelieu's Valtelline war. The most noteworthy thing in his rathereventful life was, however, his marriage. This also has a directliterary interest, at least in tradition, which will have his wife,Diane de Chateaumorand, to be Astree herself, and so the heroine of "thefirst [great] sentimental romance." The circumstances of the union,however, were scarcely sentimental, much less romantic. They were even,as people used to say yesterday, "not quite nice," and the Abbe Reure, adevotee of both parties to it, admits that they "_heurte[nt] violemmentnos idees_." In fact Diane was not only eight years older than Honoreand thirty-eight years of age, but she had been for a quarter of acentury the wife of his elder brother, Anne, while he himself was aknight of Malta, and vowed to celibacy. Of course (as the Canon pointsout with irrefragably literal accuracy in logic and law) the marriagebeing declared null _ab initio_ (for the cause most likely to suggestitself, though alleged after extraordinary delay), Diane and Honore werenot sister- and brother-in-law at all, and no "divorce" or even"dispensation" was needed. In the same way, Honore, having beenintroduced into the Order of St. John irregularly in various ways, neverwas a knight of it at all, and could not be bound by its rules. Q.E.D.Wicked people, of course, on the other hand, said that it was a deviceto retain Diane's great wealth (for Honore was quite poor in comparison)in the family; sentimental ones that it was a fortunate and blamelesscrowning of a long and pure attachment. As a matter of fact, no"permanent children" (to adopt an excellent phrase of the late Mr.Traill's) resulted; Diane outlived her husband, though but for a shorttime, and left all her property to her relations of the Levis family.The pair are also said not to have been the most united of couples. Inconnection with the _Astree_ their portraits are interesting. Honored'Urfe, though he had the benefit of Van Dyck's marvellous art ofcavalier creation, must have been a very handsome man. Diane's portrait,by a much harder and dryer hand, purports to have been taken at the ageof sixty-four. At first sight there is no beauty in it; but onreinspection one admits possibilities--a high forehead, rather"enigmatic" eyes, not at all "extinguished," a nose prominent and ratherlarge, but straight and with well, but not too much, developed "wings,"and, above all, a full and rather voluptuous mouth. Such may have beenthe first identified novel-heroine. It is a popular error to think thatsixty-four and beauty are incompatibles, but one certainly would haveliked to see her at sixteen, or better still and perhaps best of all, atsix and twenty.

  [Sidenote: The book.]

  The _Astree_ itself is not the easiest of subjects to deal with. It isindeed not so huge as the _Grand Cyrus_, but it is much more difficultto get at--a very rare flower except in the "grey old gardens" ofsecular libraries. It and its author have indeed for a few years pasthad the benefit (as a result partly of another doubtful thing, an_x_-centenary) of one[140] of the rather-to-seek good specimens amongthe endless number of modern literary monographs. But it has never beenreprinted--even extracts of it, with the exception of a few stockpassages, are not common or extensive; and though a not small libraryhas been written about it in successive waves of eulogy, reaction,mostly ignorant contempt, rehabilitation, and mere bookmaking; thoughthere have been (as noted) recent anniversaries and celebrations, and soforth; though it is one of the not numerous books which have given aname-type--Celadon,--and a place--"les bords du Lignon,"--to their own,if not to universal literature, it seems to be "as a book" very littleknown. The faithful monographer above cited admits merit in Dunlop; butDunlop does not say very much about it. Herr Koerting (_v. sup._)analyses it. Possibly there may be, also in German, a comparison,tempting to those who like such things, between it and its twenty years'predecessor, Sidney's _Arcadia_, the first French translation of which,in 1625, just after Urfe's death, was actually dedicated to his widow.But I suspect that few English writers about Sidney have known much ofthe _Astree_, and I feel sure that still fewer French writers[141] onthis have known anything of Sidney save perhaps his name. Of course theindebtedness of both books to Montemayor's _Diana_ is a commonplace.

  [Sidenote: Its likeness to the _Arcadia_.]

  [Sidenote: Its philosophy and its general temper.]

  One of the numerous resemblances between the two, and one which,considering their respective positions in the history of the French andEnglish novel, is most interesting, is the strong philosophical andspecially Platonic influence which the Renaissance exercised onboth.[142] Sidney, however full of it elsewhere, put less of it in hisactual novel; while, on the other hand, nothing did so much to createand spread the rather rococo notion of pseudo-platonic love in France,and from France throughout Europe, as the _Astree_ itself. The furtherunion of the philosophic mind with an eminently cavaliertemperament--the united _ethos_ of scholar, soldier, lover, andcourtier--fills out the comparison: and dwarfs such merely mechanicalthings as the mixed use of prose and verse (which both may have taken,nay pretty certainly did take, from Montemayor) and the pastoralities,for which they in the same way owed royalty to the Spaniard, to Tasso,to Sannazar, and to the
Greek romances, let alone Theocritus and Virgil.And, to confine ourselves henceforward to our own special subject, it isthis double infusion of idealism--of spiritual and intellectualenthusiasm on the one hand and practical fire of life and act on theother--which makes the great difference, not merely between the _Astree_and its predecessors of the _Amadis_ class, but between it and itssuccessors the strictly "Heroic" romances, though these owe it so much.The first--except in some points of passion--hardly touch reality atall; the last are perpetually endeavouring to simulate and insinuate asort of reality under cover of adventures and conventions which, thoughfictitious, are hardly at all fantastic. But the _Astree_ might almostbe called a French prose _Faerie Queene_, allowing for the difference ofthe two nations, languages, vehicles, and _milieux_ generally, in itsrepresentation of the above-mentioned cavalier-philosophic _ethos_--athing never so well realised in France as in England or in Spain, but ofwhich Honore d'Urfe, from many traits in life and book, seems to havebeen a real example, and which certainly vindicates its place in historyand literature.

  [Sidenote: Its appearance and its author's other work.]

  The _Astree_ appeared in five instalments, 1607-10-12-19 andposthumously, the several parts being frequently printed: and it is saidto be almost impossible to find a copy, all the parts of which are ofthe first issue in each case. The two later parts probably, the lastcertainly, were collaborated in, if not wholly written by, the author'ssecretary Baro. But it was by no means Honore's only work; indeed theUrfes up to his time were an unusually literary family; and, while hisgrandfather Claude collected a remarkable library (whence, at itsdispersion in the evil days of the house[143] during the eighteenthcentury, came some of not the least precious possessions of Frenchpublic and private collections), his unfortunate brother Anne was apoet. Honore himself, besides school exercises, wrote _Epistres Morales_which were rather popular, and display qualities useful in appreciatingthe novel itself; a poem in octosyllables, usually and perhaps naturallycalled "_La_ Sireine," but really entitled in the masculine, and havingnothing to do with a mermaid; a curious thing, semi-dramatic in form andin irregular blank verse, entitled _Silvanire ou La Morte Vive_, whichwas rehandled soon after his death by Corneille's most dangerous rivalMairet; and an epic called _La Savoisiade_, which seems to have nomerit, and all but a very small portion of which is still unprinted.

  [Sidenote: Its character and appeals.]

  He remains, therefore, the author of the _Astree_, and, taking things onthe whole (a mighty whole, beyond contest, as far as bulk goes), thereare not so many authors of the second rank (for one of the first he canhardly be called) who would lose very much by an exchange with him.One's estimates of the book are apt to vary in different places, evenas, though not in the same degree as, the estimates of others havevaried at different times; but I myself have found that the more I readof it the more I liked and esteemed it; and I believe that, if I had acopy of my own and could turn it over in the proper diurnal andnocturnal fashion, not as duty- but as pleasure-reading, I should likeit better still. Certain points that have appealed to me have beennoticed already--its combination of sensuous and ideal passion isperhaps the most important of them; but there are not a few others,themselves by no means void of importance. One is the union, not commonin French books between the sixteenth and the nineteenth century, ofsentiment and seriousness with something very like humour. Hylas, thenot exactly "comic man," but light-o'-love and inconstant shepherd, wasrather a bone of contention among critics of the book's own century. Buthe certainly seasons it well; and there is one almost Shakespeareanscene in which he is concerned--a scene which Benedick and Beatrice, whomay have read it not so very many years after their own marriage, musthave enjoyed considerably. Hylas and the shepherdess Stella (who issomething of a girl-counterpart of his, as in the case just cited) drawup a convention of love[144] between them. The tables, though they arenot actually numbered in the original, are twelve, and, shortened alittle, run as follows:

  [Sidenote: Hylas and Stella and their Convention.]

  1. Neither is to be sovereign over the other.

  2. Both are to be at once Lover and Beloved. [They knew something about the matter, these two, for all their jesting.]

  3. There is to be no constraint of any kind.

  4. They are to love for as long or as short a time as they please.

  5. No charge of infidelity is ever to be brought on either side.

  6. It is quite permitted to either or both to love somebody else, and yet to continue loving each other.

  7. There is to be no jealousy, no complaints, no sulks.

  8. They are to do and say exactly what they please.

  9. Words like "faithfulness," etc., are taboo.

  10. They may leave off playing whenever they like.

  11. And begin again ditto.

  12. They are to forget both the favours they receive from each other and the offences they may commit against each other.

  Now, of course, any one may say of the Land where such a code might berealised, in the very words of one of the most charming of songs, set toone of the happiest of tunes:

  Cette rive, ma chere, On ne la connait guere Au pays des amours!

  But that is not the question, and if it _were_ possible it undoubtedlywould be a very agreeable Utopia, combining the transcendental charms ofthe country of Quintessence with the material ones of the Pays deCocagne. From its own point of view there seems to be no fault to findwith it, except, perhaps, with the first part of the TwelfthCommandment; for the remembrance of former favours heightens theenjoyment of later ones, and the danger of _nessun maggior dolore_ isexcluded by the hypothesis of indifference after breach. But a sort ofumpire, or at any rate thirdsman, the shepherd Silvandre,[145] whenasked his opinion, makes an ingenious objection. To carry out ArticleThree, he says, there ought to be a Thirteenth:

  13. That they may break any of these rules just as they please.

  For what comes of this further the reader may go to the book, but enoughof it should have been given to show that there is no want of salt,though there is no (or very little) _gros sel_[146] in the _Astree_.

  [Sidenote: Narrative skill frequent.]

  Yet again there is very considerable narrative power. Abstracts may befound, not merely in older books mentioned or to be mentioned, but inthe recent publications of Koerting and the Abbe Reure, and there isneither room nor need for a fresh one here. As some one (or more thanone) has said, the book is really a sort of half-allegorical tableau ofhonourable Love worked out in a crowd of couples (some I believe, havecounted as many as sixty), from Celadon and Astree themselves downwards.The course of these loves is necessarily "accidented," and the accidentsare well enough managed from the first, and naturally enough best known,where Celadon flings himself into the river and is rescued, insensiblebut alive, by nymphs, who all admire him very much, though none of themcan affect his passion for Astree. But one cares--at least I have foundmyself caring--less for the story than for the way in which it istold--a state of things exactly contrary, as will be seen, to thatproduced with or in me by the _Grand Cyrus_. There we have a reallywell, if too intricately, engineered plot, in the telling of which it isdifficult to take much interest. Here it is just the reverse. And one ofthe consequences is that you can dip in the _Astree_ much morerefreshingly than in its famous follower, where, if you do so, youconstantly "don't know where you are."

  [Sidenote: The Fountain of the Truth of Love.]

  One of the most famous things in the book, and one of the most importantto its conduct, is the "Fountain of the Truth of Love," a few words onwhich will illustrate the general handling very fairly. This Fountain(presided over by a Druid, a very important personage otherwise, who isa sort of high priest thereof) has nothing in common with the more usualwaters which are philtres or anti-philtres, etc. Its function is to begazed in rather than to be drunk, and if you look
into it, lovingsomebody, you see your mistress. If she loves you, you see yourself aswell, beside her, and (which is not so nice) if she loves some one elseyou see _him_; while if she is fancy-free you see her only. Clidaman,one of the numerous lovers above mentioned, tries the water; and hislove, Silvie, presents herself again and again as he looks, "almostsetting on fire with her lovely eyes the wave which seemed to laugharound her." But she is quite alone.

  The presiding Druid interprets, not merely in the sense already given,but with one of the philosophic commentaries, which, as has been said,are distinctive of the book. The nature of the fountain is to reflectnot body but spirit. Spirit includes Will, Memory, and Judgment, andwhen a man loves, his spirit transforms itself through all these waysinto the thing loved. Therefore when he looks into the fountain he seesHer. In the same way She is changed into Him or some one else whom sheloves, and He sees that image also; but if she loves no one He sees herimage alone.

  "This is very satisfactory" (as Lady Kew would say) to the inquiringmind, but not so much so to the lover. He wants to have the fountainshut up, I suppose (for my notes and memory do not cover this pointexactly), that no rival may have the chance denied to himself. He wouldeven destroy it, but that--the Druid tells and shows him--is quiteimpossible. What can be done shall be. And here comes in another of theagreeable things (to me) in the book--its curious fairy-tale character,which is shown by numerous supernaturalities, much more _humanised_ thanthose of the _Amadis_ group, and probably by no means without effect onthe fairy-tale proper which was to follow. Clidaman himself happens, inthe most natural way in the world, to "keep"--as an ordinary man keepscats and dogs--a couple of extraordinary big and savage lions andanother couple of unicorns to fight, not with each other, but withmiscellaneous animals. The lions and the unicorns are forthwithextra-enchanted, so as to guard the fountain--an excellent arrangement,but subject to some awkwardnesses in the sequel. For the lions taketurns to seek their meat in the ordinary way, and though they can hurtnobody who does not meddle with the fountain, and have no wish to beman-eaters, complications naturally supervene. And sometimes, besidesfighting,[147] and love-making, and love casuistry, and fairy-tales, andoracles, and the finer comedy above mentioned, "Messire d'Urfe" (for hedid not live too late to have that most gracious of all designations ofa gentleman used in regard to him) did not disdain, and could not illmanage, sheer farce. The scene with Cryseide and Arimant and Clorine andthe nurse and the ointment in Part III. Book VII., though it containslittle or nothing to _effaroucher la pudeur_, is like one of the broaderbut not broadest tales of the Fabliaux and their descendants.

  [Sidenote: Some drawbacks--awkward history.]

  The book, therefore, has not merely a variety, but a certain liveliness,neither of which is commonplace; but it would of course be uncritical tosuppress its drawbacks. It is far too long: and while bowing to those tothe manner born who say that Baro carried out his master's plan well inpoint of style, and acknowledging that I have paid less attention toParts IV. and V. than to the others, it seems to me that we could sparea good deal of them. One error, common to almost the whole century infiction, is sometimes flagrant. Nobody except a pedant need object tothe establishment, in the time of the early fifth century and the placeof Gaul, of a non-historical kinglet- or queenletdom of Forez or"Seguse" under Amasis (here a feminine name[148]), etc.; nor, though (asmay perhaps be remarked again later) things Merovingian bring littleluck in literature, need we absolutely bar Chilperics and Alarics, or areference to "all the beauties of Neustria." But why, in the midst ofthe generally gracious _macedoine_ of serious and comic loves, andjokes, and adventures, should we have thrust in the entirelyunnecessary, however historical, crime whereby Valentinian the Thirdlost his worthless life and his decaying Empire? It has, however, beenremarked, perhaps often enough, by those who have busied themselves withthe history of the novel, how curious it is that the historical variety,though it never succeeded in being born for two thousand years afterthe _Cyropaedia_ and more, constantly strove to be so. At no time werethe throes more frequent than during the seventeenth century in France;at no time, there or anywhere else, were they more abortive.[149]

  [Sidenote: But attractive on the whole.]

  But it remains on the whole an attractive book, and the secret of atleast part of this attractiveness is no doubt to be found stated in asentence of Madame de Sevigne's, which has startled some people, that"everything in it is natural and true." To the startled persons this mayseem either a deliberate paradox, or a mere extravagance of affection,or even downright bad taste and folly. But the Lady of all BeautifulLetter-writers was almost of the family of Neverout in literarycriticism. If she had been a professional critic (which is perhapsimpossible), she might have safeguarded her dictum by the addition,"according to its own scheme and division." It is the neglect of thisimplication which has caused the demurs. "'Natural!'" and "'true!'" theysay, "why, the Pastoral is the most frankly and in fact outrageouslyunnatural and false of all literary kinds. Does not Urfe himself warn usthat we are not to expect ordinary shepherds and shepherdesses at all?"Or perhaps they go more to detail. "The whole book is unabashedlyoccupied with love-making; and love is not the whole, it is even a verysmall part, of life, that is to say, of truth and nature." Or, to comestill closer to particulars, "Where, for instance, did Celadon, who isrepresented as having been reduced to utter destitution when, _moreheroum_, he started a quasi-hermit life in the wood, get thedecorations, etc., of the Temple he erected to Love and Astree?" Onealmost blushes at having to explain, in a popular style, themistakenness, to use the mildest word, of these objections. The presentwriter, in a book less ambitious than the present on the sister subjectof the English novel, once ventured to point out that if you ask "whereSir Guyon got that particularly convenient padlock with which hefastened Occasion's tongue, and still more the hundred iron chains withwhich he bound Furor?" that is to say, if you ask such a questionseriously, you have no business to read romance at all. As to the Lovematter, of that it is still less use to talk. There are some who wouldgo so far as to deny the major; even short of that hardiness it may besafely urged that in poetry and romance Love _is_ the chief andprincipal thing, and that the poet and the romancer are only acting upto their commission in representing it as such. But the source of allthese errors is best reached, and if it may be, stopped, by dealing withthe first article of the indictment in the same way. What if Pastoral_is_ artificial? That may be an argument against the kind as a whole,but it cannot lie against a particular example of it, because thatexample is bound to act up to its kind's law. And I think it notextravagant to contend that the _Astree_ acts up to its law in the mostinoffensive fashion possible--in such a fashion, in fact, as is hardlyever elsewhere found in the larger specimens, and by no means very oftenin the smaller. Hardly even in _As You Like It_, certainly not in the_Arcadia_, do the crook and the pipe get less in the way than they dohere. A minor cavil has been urged--that the "shepherds" and the"knights," the "shepherdesses" and the "nymphs" are very littledistinguishable from each other; but why should they be? Urfe hadsufficient art to throw over all these things an air of glamour which,to those who can themselves take the benefit of the spell, banishes allinconsistencies, all improbabilities, all specks and knots and the like.It has been said that the _Astree_ has in it something of the genuinefairy-tale element. And the objections taken to it are really not muchmore reasonable than would be the poser whether even the cleverest ofwolves, with or without a whole human grandmother inside it, would findit easy to wrap itself up in bedclothes, or whether, seeing that evenwalnut shells subject cats to such extreme discomfort, top-boots wouldnot be even more intolerable to the most faithful of feline retainers.

  [Sidenote: The general importance and influence.]

  The literary influence and importance of the book have never been deniedby any competent criticism which had taken the trouble to inform itselfof the facts. It can be pointed out that while the "Heroics," great aswas their popularity for a time, d
id not keep it very long, and lost itby sharp and long continued--indeed never reversed--reaction, theinfluence of the _Astree_ on this later school itself was great, was noteffaced by that of its pupils, and worked in directions different, aswell as conjoint. It begat or helped to beget the _Precieuses_; it did agreat deal, if not exactly to set, to continue that historical characterwhich, though we have not been able to speak very favourably of itsimmediate exercise, was at last to be so important. Above all, itreformed and reinforced the "sentimental" novel, as it is called. Wehave tried to show that there was much more of this in the mediaevalromance proper than it has been the fashion in recent times to allow.There was a great deal in the _Amadis_ class, but extravaganzaed out ofreason as well as out of rhyme. To us, or some of us, the _Astree_ typemay still seem extravagant, but in comparison it brings things back tothat truth and nature which were granted it by Madame de Sevigne. Itscharms actually soothed the savage breast of Boileau, and it is notsurprising that La Fontaine loved it. Few things of the kind are morecreditable to the better side of Jean Jacques a full century later, thanthat he was not indifferent to its beauty; and there were few greateromissions on the part of _mil-huit-cent-trente_ (which, however, had somuch to do!) than its comparative neglect to stray on to the graciousbanks of the Lignon. All honour to Saint-Marc Girardin (not exactly theman from whom one would have expected it) for having been, as it seems,though in a kind of _palinodic_ fashion, the first to render seriousattention, and to do fair justice, to this vast and curious wildernessof delights.[150]

  [Sidenote: The _Grand Cyrus_.]

  [Sidenote: Its preface to Madame de Longueville.]

  To turn from the Pastoral to the Heroic, the actual readers, English orother, of _Artamene ou le Grand Cyrus_[151] in late years, have probablybeen reckonable rather as single spies (a phrase in this connection ofsome rather special appropriateness) than in battalions. And it is to befeared that many or most, if not nearly all of them, have opened it withlittle expectation of pleasure. The traditional estimates are deadagainst it as a rule; it has constantly served as an example--producedby wiseacres for wiseacres--of the _un_wisdom of our ancestors; and,generous as were Sir Walter's estimates of all literature, andespecially of his fellow-craftsmen's and craftswomen's work, the livelypassage in _Old Mortality_ where Edith Bellenden's reference to the bookexcites the (in the circumstances justifiable) wrath of theMajor--perhaps the only _locus_ of ordinary reading that touches_Artamene_ with anything but vagueness--is not entirely calculated tomake readers read eagerly. But on turning honestly to the book itself,it is possible that considerable relief and even a little astonishmentmay result. Whether this satisfaction will arise at the very dedicationby that vainglorious and yet redoubtable cavalier, Georges de Scudery,in which he characteristically takes to himself the credit due mainly,if not wholly, to his plain little sister Madeleine, will depend upontaste. It is addressed to Anne Genevieve de Bourbon, Duchess ofLongueville, sister of Conde, and adored mistress of many noteworthypersons--the most noteworthy perhaps being the Prince de Marcillac,better known, as from his later title, as Duc de la Rochefoucauld, anda certain Aramis--not so good a man as three friends of his, but a veryaccomplished, valiant, and ingenious gentleman. The blue eyes of Madamede Longueville (M. de Scudery takes the liberty to mention speciallytheir charm, if not their colour) were among the most victorious in thattime of the "raining" and reigning influence of such things: and somehowone succumbs a little even now to her as the Queen of that bevy of fair,frail, and occasionally rather ferocious ladies of the Fronde feminine.(The femininity was perhaps most evident in Madame de Chevreuse, and theferocity in Madame de Montbazon.) Did not Madame de Longueville--did notthey all--figuratively speaking, draw that great philosopher VictorCousin[152] up in a basket two centuries after her death, even as hadbeen done, literally if mythically, to that greater philosopher,Aristotle, ages before? But the governor of Our Lady of the Guard[153]says to her many of these things which that very Aramis delighted tohear (though not perhaps from the lips of rivals) and described,rebuking the callousness of Porthos to them, as fine and worthy of beingsaid by gentlemen. The Great Cyrus himself "comes to lay at herHighness's feet his palms and his trophies." His historian, achieving atonce advertisement and epigram, is sure that as she listened kindly tothe _Death of Caesar_ (his own play), she will do the same to the Lifeof Cyrus. Anne Genevieve herself will become the example of allPrincesses (the Reverend Abraham Adams might have groaned a littlehere), just as Cyrus was the pattern of all Princes. She is not themoon, but the sun[154] of the Court. The mingled blood of Bourbon andMontmorency gives her such an _eclat_ that it is almost unapproachable.He then digresses a little to glorify her brother, her husband, andChapelain, the famous author of _La Pucelle_, who had the good fortuneto be a friend of the Scuderys, as well as, like them, a strong "Heroic"theorist. After which he comes to that personal inventory which has beenreferred to, decides that her beauty is of a celestial splendour, and,in fact, a ray of Divinity itself; goes into raptures, not merely overher eyes, but over her hair (which simply effaces sunbeams); thebrightness and whiteness of her complexion; the just proportion of herfeatures; and, above all, her singularly blended air of modesty andgallantry; her intellectual and spiritual match; her bodily graces; andhe is finally sure that though somebody's misplaced acuteness maydiscover faults which nobody else will perceive (Georges would like tosee them, no doubt), her extreme kindness will pardon them. Acommonplace example of flattery this? Well, perhaps not. One somehowsees, across the rhetoric, the blue eyes of Anne Genevieve and thebristling mustachios and "swashing outside" and mighty rapier ofGeorges; and the thing becomes alive with the life of a not ungraciouspast, the ills of which were, after all, more or less common to alltimes, and its charms (like the charms of all things and personscharming) its own.

  [Sidenote: The "Address to the Reader."]

  But the Address to the Reader, though it discards those "temptations ofyoung ladies" (Madame de Longueville can never have been old) which Dr.Johnson recognised, and also the companion attractions of Cape andSword, is of perhaps directly greater importance for our special andlegitimate purpose. Here the brother and sister (probably the sisterchiefly) develop some of the principles of their bold adventure, andthey are of no small interest. It is allowed that the varying accountsof Cyrus (in which, as almost every one with the slightest tincture ofeducation[155] must be aware, doctors differ remarkably), at least thoseof Herodotus and Xenophon (they do not, or she does not, seem to haveknown Ctesias), are confounded, and selected _ad libitum_ and _secundumartem_ only. Further "lights" are given by the selection of the"Immortal Heliodorus" and "the great Urfe" as patterns and patrons ofthe work. In fact, to any expert in the reading and criticism of novelsit is clear that a great principle has been--imperfectly butsomehow--laid hold of.

  [Sidenote: The opening of the "business."]

  Perhaps, however, "laid hold of" is too strong; we should do better byborrowing from Dante and saying that the author or authors have"glimpsed the Panther,"--have seen that a novel ought not to be a merechronicle, unselected and miscellaneous, but a work which, whether ithas actual unity of plot or not, has unity of interest, and will dealwith its facts so as to secure that interest. At first, indeed, theyplunge us into the middle of matters quite excitingly, though perhapsnot without more definite suggestion, both to them and to us, of the"immortal" Heliodorus. The hero, who still bears his false name ofArtamene,[156] appears at the head of a small army, the troops ofCyaxares of Media; and, at the mouth of a twisting valley, suddenly seesbefore him the town of Sinope in flames, the shipping in the harbourblazing likewise, all but one bark, which seems to be flying from morethan the conflagration. A fine comic-opera situation follows; for whileArtamene is trying to subdue the fire he is attacked by the traitorAribee, general under the King of Assyria, who is himself shut up in atower and seems to be hopelessly cut off from rescue by the fire. Theinvincible hero, however, subdues at once the rebel and the destroyingelement; captures t
he Assyrian, who is not only his enemy and that ofhis master Cyaxares, but his Rival (the word has immense importance inthese romances, and is always honoured with a capital there), and learnsthat the escaping galley carried with it his beloved Mandane, daughterof Cyaxares, of whom he is in quest, and who has been abducted from herabductor and lover by another, Prince Mazare of Sacia.

  [Sidenote: The ups and downs of the general conduct of the story.]

  All this is lively and business-like enough, and one feels rather abrute in making the observation (necessary, however) that Artamene talkstoo much and not in the right way. When things in general are "on theedge of a razor" and one is a tried and skilful soldier, one does not,except on the stage, pause to address the unjust Gods, and inquirewhether they have consented to the destruction of the most beautifulprincess in the world; discuss with one's friends the reduction intocinders[157] of the adorable Mandane, and further enquire, without theslightest chance of answer, "Alas! unjust Rival! hast thou not thoughtrather of thine own preservation than of hers?" However, for a time, theincidents do carry off the verbiage, and for nearly a hundred smallpages there is no great cause for complaint. It is the style of thebook; and if you do not like it you must "seek another inn." But whatsucceeds, for the major part of the first of the twenty volumes,[158] isopen to severer criticisms. We fall into interminable discussions,_recits_, and the like, on the subject of the identity of Artamene andCyrus, and we see at once the imperfect fashion in which the nature ofthe novel is conceived. That elaborate explanation--necessary inhistory, philosophy, and other "serious" works--cannot be cut down toomuch in fiction, is one truth that has not been learnt.[159] That thestuffing of the story with large patches of solid history orpseudo-history is wrong and disenchanting has not been learnt either;and this is the less surprising and the more pardonable in that veryfew, if indeed any, of the masters and mistresses of the novel, laterand greater than Georges and Madeleine de Scudery, have not refused tolearn it or have not carelessly forgotten the learning. Even Scottcommitted the fault sometimes, though never in his very best work.Dumas--when he went out and left the "young men" to fill in, and stayedtoo long, and made them fill in too much--did it constantly. Yet again,that mixture of excess and defect in talking, which has been notedalready, becomes more and more trying in connection with the previouslymentioned faults and others. Of _mere_ talk there is enough andimmensely to spare; but it is practically never real dialogue, stillless real conversation. It is harangue, narrative, soliloquy, what youwill, in the less lively theatrical forms of speech watered out inprose, with "passing of compliments" in the most gentlefolkly manner,and a spice of "Phebus" or Euphuism now and then. But it is never realpersonal talk,[160] while as for conveying the action _by_ the talk asthe two great masters above mentioned and nearly all others of theirkind do, there is no vestige of even an attempt at the feat, or aglimpse of its desirableness.

  Again, one sees before long that of one priceless quality--a sense ofhumour--we shall find, though there is a little mild wit, especially inthe words of the ladies named in the note, no trace in the book, but a"terrible _minus_ quantity." I do not know that the late Sir WilliamGilbert was a great student of literature--of classical literature, tojudge from the nomenclature of _Pygmalion and Galatea_ mentioned above,he certainly was not. But his eyes would surely have glistened at theunconscious and serious anticipation of his own methods at their mostGilbertian, had he ever read pp. 308 _sqq._ of this first volume. Herenot only do Cyrus and a famous pirate, by boarding with irresistiblevalour on each side, "exchange ships," and so find themselves at once tohave gained the enemy's and lost their own, but this remarkablemanoeuvre is repeated more than twenty times without advantage oneither side--or without apparently any sensible losses on either side.From which it would appear that both contented themselves with displaysof agility in climbing from vessel to vessel, and did nothing soimpolite as to use their "javelins, arrows, and cutlasses" (of which,nevertheless, we hear) against the persons of their competitors in suchagility on the other side. It did come to an end somehow after sometime; but one is quite certain that if Mr. Crummles had had the means ofpresenting such an admirable spectacle on any boards, he never wouldhave contented himself without several encores of the whole twentyoperations.

  An experienced reader, therefore, will not need to spend many hoursbefore he appreciates pretty thoroughly what he has to expect--of good,of bad, and of indifferent--from this famous book. It is, though in adifferent sense from Montaigne's, a _livre de bonne foi_. And we mustremember that the readers whom it directly addressed expected from booksof this kind "pastime" in the most literal and generous, if alsohumdrum, sense of the word; noble sentiments, perhaps a little learning,possibly a few hidden glances at great people not of antiquity only. Allthese they got here, most faithfully supplied according to their demand.

  [Sidenote: Extracts--the introduction of Cyrus to Mandane.]

  Probably nothing will give the reader, who does not thus read forhimself, a better idea of the book than some extract translations,beginning with Artamene's first interview with Mandane,[161] going on tohis reflections thereon, and adding a perhaps slightly shortened versionof the great fight recounted later, in which again some evidence of thedamaging absence of humour, and some suggestions as to the originals ofdivers well-known parodies, will be found. (It must be remembered thatthese are all parts of an enormous _recit_ by Chrisante, one ofArtamene's confidants and captains, to the King of Hircania, a monarchdoubtless inured to hardships in the chase of his native tigers, orrequiring some sedative as a change from it.)

  No sooner had the Princess seen my Master than she rose, and prepared to receive him with much kindness and much joy, having already heard, by Arbaces, the service he had done to the King, her father. Artamene then made her two deep bows, and coming closer to her, but with all the respect due to a person of her condition, he kissed [_no doubt the hem of_] her robe, and presented to her the King's letter, which she read that very instant. When she had done, he was going to begin the conversation with a compliment, after telling her what had brought him; but the Princess anticipated him in the most obliging manner. "What Divinity, generous stranger," said she, "has brought you among us to save all Cappadocia by saving its King? and to render him a service which the whole of his servants could not have rendered?" "Madam," answered Artamene, "you are right in thinking that some Divinity has led me hither; and it must have been some one of those beneficent Divinities who do only good to men, since it has procured me the honour of being known to you, and the happiness of being chosen by Fortune to render to the King a slight service, which might, no doubt, have been better done him by any other man." "Modesty," said the Princess (smiling and turning towards the ladies who were nearest her), "is a virtue which belongs so essentially to our own sex, that I do not know whether I ought to allow this generous stranger so unjustly to rob us of it, or--not content with possessing eminently that valour to which we must make no pretension--to try to be as modest when he is spoken to of the fineness of his actions as reasonable women ought to be when they are praised for their beauty. For my part," she added, looking at Artamene, "I confess I find your proceeding a little unfair. And I do not think that I ought to allow it, or to deprive myself of the power of praising you infinitely, although you cannot endure it." "Persons like you," retorted Artamene, but with profound respect, "ought to receive praise from all the earth, and not to give it lightly. 'Tis a thing, Madam, of which it is not pleasant to have to repeat; for which reason I beg you not to expose yourself to such a danger. Wait, Madam, till I have the honour of being a little better known to you."

  There are several pages more of this _carte_ and _tierce_ of compliment;but perhaps a degenerate and impatient age may desire that we shouldpass to the next subject. Whether it is right or not in so desiring mayperhaps be discussed when the t
hree samples have been given.

  Artamene has been dismissed with every mark of favour, and lodged in apavilion overlooking the garden. When he is alone--

  [Sidenote: His soliloquy in the pavilion.]

  After having passed and re-passed all these things over again in his imagination, "Ye gods!" said he, "if, when she is so lovable, it should chance that I cannot make her love me, what would become of the wretched Artamene? But," and he caught himself up suddenly, "since she seems capable of appreciating glory and services, let us continue to act as we have begun! and let us do such great deeds that, even if her inclination resisted, esteem may introduce us, against her will, into her heart! For, after all, whatever men may say, and whatever I may myself have said, one may give a little esteem to what one will never in the least love; but I do not think one can give much esteem to what will never earn a little love. Let us hope, then; let us hope! let us make ourselves worthy to be pitied if we are not worthy to be loved."

  After which somewhat philosophical meditation it is not surprising thathe should be informed by one of his aides-de-camp that the Princess wasin the garden. For what were Princesses made? and for what gardens?

  The third is a longer passage, but it shall be subjected to that kind of_cento_ing which has been found convenient earlier in this volume.

  [Sidenote: The Fight of the Four Hundred.]

  [_The dispute between the kings of Cappadocia on the one hand and of Pontus on the other has been referred to a select combat of two hundred men a side. Artamene, of course, obtains the command of the Cappadocians, to the despair of his explosive but not ungenerous rival, "Philip Dastus." After a very beautiful interview with Mandane (where, once more, the most elegant compliments pass between these gentlefolkliest of all heroes and heroines) and divers preliminaries, the fight comes off._][162] They began to advance with heads lowered, without cries or noise of any kind, but in a silence which struck terror. As soon as they were near enough to use their javelins, they launched them with such violence that [_a slight bathos_] these flying weapons had a pretty great effect on both sides, but much greater on that of the Cappadocians than on the other. Then, sword in hand and covered by their shields, they came to blows, and Artamene, as we were informed, immolated the first victim [_but how about the javelin "effect"?_] in this bloody sacrifice. For, having got in front of all his companions by some paces, he killed, with a mighty sword-stroke, the first who offered resistance. [_Despite this, the general struggle continues to go against the Cappadocians, though Artamene's exploits alarm one of the enemy, named Artane, so much that he skulks away to a neighbouring knoll. At last_] things came to such a point that Artamene found himself with fourteen others against forty; so I leave you to judge, Sir [_Chrisante parle toujours_], whether the party of the King of Pontus did not believe they had conquered, and whether the Cappadocians had not reason to think themselves beaten. But as, in this fight, it was not allowed either to ask or to give quarter, and was necessary either to win or to die, the most despairing became the most valiant. [_The next stage is, that in consequence of enormous efforts on his part, the hero finds himself and his party ten to ten, which "equality" naturally cheers them up. But the wounds of the Cappadocians are the severer; the ten on their side become seven, with no further loss to the enemy, and at last Artamene finds himself, after three hours' fighting, alone against three, though only slightly wounded. He wisely uses his great agility in retiring and dodging; separates one enemy from the other two, and kills him; attacks the two survivors, and, one luckily stumbling over a buckler, kills a second, so that at last the combat is single. During this time the coward Artane abstains from intervening, all the more because the one surviving champion of Pontus is a personal rival of his, and because, by a very ingenious piece of casuistry, he persuades himself that the two combatants are sure to kill each other, and he, Artane, surviving, will obtain the victory for self and country!_]

  He is nearly right; but not quite. For after Artamene has wounded thePontic Pharnaces in six places, and Pharnaces Artamene in four (for wewound "by the card" here), the hero runs Pharnaces through the heart,receiving only a thigh-wound in return. He flourishes both swords, cries"I have conquered!" and falls in a faint from loss of blood. Artanethinks him dead, and without caring to come close and "mak sicker," goesoff to claim the victory. But Artamene revives, finds himself alone,and, with what strength he has left, piles the arms of the deadtogether, writes with his own blood on a silver shield--

  TO JUPITER GUARDIAN OF TROPHIES,

  and lies beside it as well as he can. The false news deceives for ashort time, but when the stipulated advance to the field takes place onboth sides, the discovery of the surviving victor introduces a newcomplication, from which we may for the moment abstain.

  The singlestick rattle of compliment in the interview first given, andthe rather obvious and superfluous meditations of the second, may seem,if not exactly disgusting, tedious and jejune. But the "Fight of theFour Hundred" is not frigid; and it is only fair to say that, after therather absurd passage of _chasse croise_ on ship-board quoted or atleast summarised earlier, the capture of Artamene by numbers and hissurrender to the generous corsair Thrasybulus are not ill told, whilethere are several other good fights before you come to the end of thisvery first volume. There is, moreover, an elaborate portrait of thePrincess, evidently intended to "pick up" that vaguer one of Madame deLongueville in the Preface, but with the blue of the eyes herefearlessly specified. Here also does the celebrated Philidaspes (mostimproperly, if it had not been for the justification to be given later,transmogrified in the above-mentioned passage by Major Bellenden into"Philip Dastus? Philip Devil") make his appearance. The worst of it isthat most, if not the whole, is done by the _recit_ delivered, as notedabove, by Chrisante, one of those representatives of the no lessfaithful than strong Gyas and Cloanthus, whom imitation of the ancientshas imposed on Scudery and his sister, and inflicted on their readers.

  [Sidenote: The abstract resumed.]

  The story of the Cappadocian-Pontic fight[163] is continued in thesecond volume of the First Part by the expected delivery of haranguesfrom the two claimants, and the obligatory, but to Artane veryunwelcome, single combat. He is, of course, vanquished and pardoned byhis foe,[164] making, if not full, sufficient confession; and it is notsurprising to hear that the King of Pontus requests to see no more ofhim. The rest--for it must never be forgotten that all this is "throwingback"--then turns to the rivalry of Artamene and Philidaspes for thelove of Mandane, while she (again, of course) has not the faintest ideathat either is in love with her. Philidaspes, who (still, of course) isnot Philidaspes at all, is a rough customer--(in fact the Major hardlydid him injustice in calling him "Philip Devil"--betraying also perhapssome knowledge of the text), and it comes to a tussle. This ratherresembles what the contemptuous French early Romantics called _uneboxade_ than a formal duel, and Artamene stuns his man with a blow ofthe flat. Cyaxares[165] is very angry, and imprisons them both, not yetrealising their actual fault. It does not matter much to Artamene, whoin prison can think, aloud and in the most beautiful "Phebus," ofMandane. It matters perhaps a little more to the reader; for a courteousjailer, Aglatidas, takes the occasion to relate his own woes in a"History of Aglatidas and Amestris," which completes the second volumeof the First Part in three hundred and fifty mortal pages to itself.

  The first volume of the Second Part returns to the main story, or ratherthe main series of _recits_; for, Chrisante being not unnaturallyexhausted after talking for a thousand pages or so, Feraulas, another ofArtamene's men, takes up the running. The prisoners are let out, andMandane reconciles them, after which--as another but later contemporaryremarks (again of other things, but probably with s
ome reminiscence ofthis)--they become much more mortal enemies than before. Thereflections and soliloquies of Artamene recur; but a not unimportant,although subordinate, new character appears--not as the first example,but as the foremost representative, in the novel, of the great figure ofthe "confidante"--in Martesie, Mandane's chief maid of honour. Nobody,it is to be hoped, wants an elaborate account of the part she plays, butit should be said that she plays it with much more spirit andindividuality than her mistress is allowed to show. Then, according tothe general plan of all these books, in which fierce wars and faithfulloves alternate, there is more fighting, and though Artamene isvictorious (as how should he not be, save now and then to preventmonotony?) he disappears and is thought dead. Of course Mandane cries,and confesses to the confidante, being entirely "finished" by a veryexquisite letter which Artamene has written before going into thedoubtful battle. However, he is (yet once more, of course) not dead atall. What (as that most sagacious of men, the elder Mr. Weller, wouldhave said)'d have become of the other seventeen volumes if he had been?There is one of the _quiproquos_ or misunderstandings which are asnecessary to this kind of novel as the flirtations and the fisticuffs,brought about by the persistence of an enemy princess in taking Artamenefor her son Spithridates;[166] but all comes right for the time, and thehero returns to his friends. The plot, however, thickens. An accidentinforms Artamene that Philidaspes is really Prince of Assyria, sure tobecome King when his mother, Nitocris, dies or abdicates, and that,being as he is, and as Artamene knows already, desperately in love withMandane, he has formed a plot for carrying her off. The difficulties inthe way of preventing this are great, because, though the hero isalready aware that he is Cyrus, it is for many reasons undesirable toinform Cyaxares of the fact; and at last Philidaspes, helped by thetraitor Aribee (_v. sup._), succeeds in the abduction, after aninterlude in which a fresh Rival, with a still larger R, the King ofPontus himself, turns up; and an immense episode, in which Thomyris,Queen of Scythia, appears, not yet in her more or less historical partof victress of Cyrus. She is here only a young sovereign, widowed in herearliest youth, extremely beautiful (see a portrait of her _inf._), whohas never yet loved, but who falls instantly in love with Cyrus himself(when he is sent to her court), and is rather a formidable person todeal with, inasmuch as, besides having great wealth and power, she hasestablished a diplomatic system of intrigue in other countries, whichthe newest German or other empire might envy. By the end of this volume,however, the Artamene-Cyrus confusion is partly cleared up (thoughCyaxares is not yet made aware of the facts), and the hero is sent afterMandane, to be disappointed at Sinope, in the fashion recounted somethousand or two pages before.

  [Sidenote: The oracle to Philidaspes.]

  With the beginning of vol. iv. (that is to say, part ii. vol. ii.) wereturn, though still in retrospect, to the direct fate of Mandane.Nitocris is dead, Philidaspes has succeeded to the crown of Assyria, andhas carried Mandane off to his own dominions. The situation with sorobustious a person as this prince may seem awkward, and indeed, as isobserved in a later part of the book, the heroine's repeated sojourns(there are three if not four of them in all[167]) in the complete powerof one of the Rivals, with a large R, are very trying to Cyrus. However,such a shocking thing as violence is hardly hinted at, and the Princessalways succeeds, as the Creole lady in _Newton Forster_ said she didwith the pirates, in "temporising," while her abductors confinethemselves for the most part to the finest "Phebus." Even the fieryPhilidaspes, though he breaks out sometimes, conveys his wish thatMandane should accompany him to Babylon by pointing out that "theEuphrates is jealous of the Tigris for having first had the honour ofher presence," and that "the First City of the World ought clearly topossess the most illustrious princess of the Earth." Of course, if thereis any base person who cannot derive an Aramisian satisfaction (_v.sup._) from such things as this, he had better abstain from the _Cyrus_.But happier souls they please--not exquisitely, perhaps, ortumultuously, but still well--with a mild tickle which is notunvoluptuous. One is even a very little sorry for Philip Dastus when hebegs his cruel idol to write to him the single word ESPEREZ, andmeanwhile kindly puts it in capitals and a line to itself. Almostimmediately afterwards an oracle juggles with him in fashion delightfulto himself, and puzzling to everybody except the intelligent reader,who, it is hoped, will see the double meaning at once.

  Il t'est permis d'esperer De la faire soupirer, Malgre sa haine: Car un jour entre ses bras, Tu rencontreras La fin de ta peine.

  Alas! without going further (upon honour and according to fact), onesees the _other_ explanation--that Mandane will have to perform theuncomfortable duty--often assigned to heroines--of having Philidaspesdie in her lap.

  For the present, however, only discomfiture, not death, awaits him. TheMedes blockade Babylon to recover their princess; it suffers fromhunger, and Philidaspes, with Mandane and the chivalrous Sacian PrinceMazare, whom we have heard of before, escapes to Sinope. Then the eventsrecorded in the very beginning happen, and Mandane, after escaping theflames of Sinope through Mazare's abduction of her by sea, and sufferingshipwreck, falls into the power of the King of Pontus. This calls a haltin the main story; and, as before, a "Troisieme Livre" consists ofanother huge inset--the hugest yet--of seven hundred pages this time,describing an unusually, if not entirely, independent subject--theloves and fates of a certain Philosipe and a certain Polisante. Thisvolume contains a rather forcible boating-scene, which supplies thetheme for the old frontispiece.

  Refreshed as usual by this excursion,[168] the author returns (in vol.v., bk. i., chap. iii.) to Cyrus, who is once more in peril, and in aworse one than ever. Cyaxares, arriving at Sinope, does not find hisdaughter, but does discover that Artamene, whom he does not yet know tobe Cyrus and heir to Persia, is in love with her. Owing chiefly to thewiles of a villain, Metrobate, he arrests the Prince, and is on thepoint of having him executed, despite the protests of the allied kings.But the whole army, with the Persian contingent at its head, assaultsthe castle, and rescues Cyrus, after the traitor Metrobate has tried todouble his treachery and get Cyaxares assassinated. Nobody who remembersthe _Letter of Advice_ already quoted will doubt what the conduct ofCyrus is. He only accepts the rescue in order that he may post himselfat the castle gate, and threaten to kill anybody who attacks Cyaxares.

  After this burst, which is really exciting in a way, we must expectsomething more soporific. Martesie takes the place of her absentmistress to some extent, and a good deal of what might be mistaken for"Passerelle"[169] flirtation takes place, or would do so, if it were notthat Cyrus would, of course, die rather than pay attention to anybodybut Mandane herself, and that Feraulas, already mentioned as one of theFaithful Companions, is detailed as Martesie's lover. She is, however,installed as a sort of Vice-Queen of a wordy tourney between fourunhappy lovers, who fill up the rest of the volume with their stories of"Amants _In_fortunes" (cf. the original title of the _Heptameron_),dealing respectively with and told by--

  (1) A lover who is loved, but separated from his mistress.

  (2) One who is unloved.

  (3) A jealous one.

  (4) One whose love is dead.[170]

  They do it moderately, in rather less than five hundred pages, andMartesie sums up in a manner worthy of any Mistress of the Rolls,contrasting their fates, and deciding very cleverly against the jealousman.

  The first twenty pages or so of the sixth volume (nominally iii. 2)afford a good example of the fashion in which, as may be observed morefully below, even an analysis of the _Grand Cyrus_, though a greatadvance on mere general description of it, must be still (unless it beitself intolerably voluminous) insufficient. Not very much actually"happens"; but if you simply skip, you miss a fresh illustration ofmagnanimity not only in Cyrus, but in a formerly mentioned character,Aglatidas, with reference to the heroine Amestris earlier inset in thetale (_v. sup._). And this is an example of the new and sometimes veryingenious fashion in which these apparent excursions are t
urned intosomething like real episodes, or at any rate supply connecting threadsof the whole, in a manner not entirely unlike that which some criticshave so hastily and unjustly overlooked in Spenser. Then we have animbroglio about forged letters, and a clearing-up of a former chargeagainst the hero, and (still within the twenty pages) a very curiousscene--the last for the time--of that flirtation-without-flirtationbetween Cyrus and Martesie. She wants to have back a picture of Mandane,which she has lent him to worship; and he replies, looking at her"attentively" (one wonders whether Mandane, if present, would have beenentirely satisfied with his "attention"), addresses her as "CruelPerson," and asks her (he is just setting out for the Armenian war) howshe thinks he can conquer when she takes away what should make himinvincible. To which replies Miss Martesie, "You have gained so manyvictories [_ahem!_] without this help, that it would seem you have noneed of it." This is very nice, and Martesie, who is herself, aspreviously observed, quite nice throughout, lets him have the pictureafter all. But Cyrus, for once rather ungraciously, will not allow herlover, and his henchman, Feraulas to escort her home; first, because hewants Feraulas's services himself, and secondly, because it is unjustthat Feraulas should be happy with Martesie when Cyrus is miserablewithout Mandane--an argument which, whether slightly selfish or not, isat any rate in complete keeping with the whole atmosphere of the book.

  [Sidenote: The advent of Araminta.]

  Now, as this is by no means a very exceptional, certainly not a unique,score of pages, and as it has taken almost a whole one of ours to give arather imperfect notion of its contents, it follows that it would takeabout six hundred, if not more, to do justice to the ten or twelvethousand of the original. Which (in one of the most immortal offormulas) "is impossible." We must fall back, therefore, on the systemalready pursued for the rest of this volume, and perhaps even contractits application in some cases. A rash promise of the now entirely, ifnot also rather insanely,[171] generous Prince not to marry Mandanewithout fighting Philidaspes, or rather the King of Assyria, beforehand,is important; and an at last minute description of Cyrus's person andequipment as he sets out (on one of the proudest and finest horses thatever was, with a war-dress the superbest that can be imagined, and withMandane's magnificent scarf put on for the first time) is not quiteomissible. But then things become intricate. Our old friend Spithridatescomes back, and has first love affairs and afterwards an enormous_recit_-episode with a certain Princess of Pontus, whom Cyrus,reminding one slightly of Bentley on Mr. Pope's _Homer_ and Tommy Mertonon Cider, pronounces to be _belle, blonde, blanche et bien faite_, butnot Mandane; and who has the further charm of possessing, for the firsttime in literature if one mistakes not, the renowned name of Araminta. Apair of letters between these two will be useful as specimens, and tosome, it may be hoped, agreeable in themselves.

  SPITHRIDATES TO THE PRINCESS ARAMINTA

  [Sidenote: Her correspondence with Spithridates.]

  I depart, Madam, because you wish it: but, in departing, I am the most unhappy of all men. I know not whither I go; nor when I shall return; nor even if you wish that I _should_ return; and yet they tell me I must live and hope. But I should not know how to do either the one or the other, unless you order me to do both by two lines in your own hand. Therefore I beg them of you, divine Princess--in the name of an illustrious person, now no more, [_her brother Sinnesis, who had been a great friend of his_], but who will live for ever in the memory of

  SPITHRIDATES.

  [_He can hardly have hoped for anything better than the following answer, which is much more "downright Dunstable" than is usual here._]

  ARAMINTA TO SPITHRIDATES

  Live as long as it shall please the Gods to allow you. Hope as long as Araminta lives--she begs you: and even if you yourself wish to live, she orders you to do so.

  [_In other words he says, "My own Araminta, say 'Yes'!" and she does. This attitude necessarily involves the despair of a Rival, who writes thus:_]

  PHARNACES TO THE PRINCESS ARAMINTA

  If Fortune seconds my designs, I go to a place where I shall conquer _and_ die--where I shall make known, by my generous despair, that if I could not deserve your affection by my services, I shall have at least not made myself unworthy of your compassion by my death.

  [_And, to do him justice, he "goes and does it."_]

  This episode, however, did not induce Mademoiselle Madeleine to breakher queer custom of having something of the same kind in the Third Bookof every Part. For though there is some "business," it slips intoanother regular "History," this time of Prince Thrasybulus, a navalhero, of whom we have often heard, and his Alcionide, not a bad name fora sailor's mistress.[172] Finally, we come back to more events of arather troublesome kind: for the _ci-devant_ Philidaspes mostinconveniently insists in taking part in the rescuing expedition,which--saving scandal of great ones--is very much as if Mr. WilliamSikes should insist in helping to extract booty from Mr. Tobias Crackit.And we finally leave Cyrus in a decidedly awkward situation morally, andthe middle of a dark wood physically.

  [Sidenote: Some interposed comments.]

  Here, according to that paulo-post-future precedent which she did somuch to create, the authoress was quite justified in leaving him at theend of a volume; and perhaps the present historian is, to compare smallthings with great, equally justified in heaving-to (to borrow from Mr.Kipling) and addressing a small critical sermon to such crew as he mayhave attracted. We have surveyed not quite a third of the book; but thisought in any case--_teste_ the loved and lost "three-decker" which theallusion just made concerns--to give us a notion of the author's qualityand of his or her _faire_. It should not be very difficult for anybody,unless the foregoing analysis has been very clumsily done, to discernconsiderable method in Madeleine's mild madness, and, what is more, nota little originality. The method has, no doubt, as it was certain tohave in the circumstances, a regular irregularity, which is, or would bein anybody but a novice, a little clumsy: and the originality may wantsome precedent study to discover it. But both are there. The skeleton ofthis vast work may perhaps be fairly constructed from what has alreadybeen dissected of the body; and the method of clothing the skeletonreveals itself without much difficulty. You have the central idea in theloves of Cyrus and Mandane, which are to be made as true as possible,but also running as roughly as may be. Moreover, whether they run roughor smooth, you are to keep them in suspense as long as you possibly can.The means of doing this are laboriously varied and multiplied. Theclumsiest of them--the perpetual intercalation or interpolation of"side-shows" in the way of _Histoires_--annoys modern readersparticularly, and has, as a rule, since been itself beautifully andbeneficently lessened, in some cases altogether discarded, orchanged--in emancipation from the influence of the "Unities"--to theform of second plots, not ostentatiously severed from the main one. But,as has been pointed out, a great deal of trouble is at any rate taken toknit them to the main plot itself, if not actually and invariably toincorporate them therewith; and the means of this are again notaltogether uncraftsmanlike. Sometimes, as in the case of Spithridates,the person, or one of the persons, is introduced first in the mainhistory; his own particular concerns are dealt with later, and, for goodor for evil, he returns to the central scheme. Sometimes, as in that ofAmestris, you have the _Histoire_ before the personage enters the mainstory. Then there is the other device of varying direct narrative, as tothis main story itself, with _Recit_; and always you have a carefulpeppering in of new characters, by _histoire_, by _recit_, or by themain story, to create fresh interests. Again, there is the contrast of"business," as we have called it--fighting and politics--withlove-making and miscellaneous fine talk. And, lastly, there are--what,if they were not whelmed in such an ocean of other things, would attractmore notice--the not unfrequent individual phrases and situations whichhave interest in themselves. It must surely be obvious that in th
esethings are great possibilities for future use, even if the actualinventor has not made the most of them.

  Their originality may perhaps deserve a little more comment.[173] Themixture of secondary plots might, by a person more given to theorisethan the present historian--who pays his readers the compliment ofsupposing that that excessively easy and therefore somewhat negligiblebusiness can be done by themselves if they wish--be traced to anaccidental feature of the later mediaeval romances. In these thecongeries of earlier texts, which the compiler had not the wits, or atleast the desire, to systematise, provided something like it; butrequired the genius of a Spenser, or the considerable craft of aScudery, to throw it into shape and add the connecting links. Many ofthe other things are to be found in the Scudery romance practically forthe first time. And the suffusion of the whole with a new tone andcolour of at least courtly manners is something more to be counted, aswell as the constant exclusion of the clumsy "conjuror's supernatural"of the _Amadis_ group. That the fairy story sprung up, to supply thealways graceful supernatural element in a better form, is a matter whichwill be dealt with later in this chapter. The oracles, etc., of the_Cyrus_ belong, of course, to the historical, not the imaginative sideof the presentation; but may be partly due to the _Astree_, theinfluence of which was, we saw, admitted.

  [Sidenote: Analysis resumed.]

  It may seem unjust that the more this complication of interestsincreases, the less complete should be the survey of them; and yet amoment's thought will show that this is almost a necessity. Moreover,the methods do not vary much; it is only that they are applied to alarger and larger mass of accumulating material. The first volume of theFourth Part, the seventh of the twenty, follows--though with thatabsence of slavish repetition which has been allowed as one of thegraces of the book--the general scheme. Cyrus gets out of the woodliterally, but not figuratively; for when he and the King of Assyriahave joined forces, to pursue that rather paradoxical alliance which isto run in couple with rivalry for love and to end in a personal combat,they see on the other side of a river a chariot, in which Mandaneprobably or certainly is. But the river is unbridged and unfordable, andno boats can be had; so that, after trying to swim it and nearly gettingdrowned, they have to relinquish the game that had been actually insight. Next, two things happen. First, Martesie appears (as usually toour satisfaction), and in consequence of a series of accidents, sharesand solaces Mandane's captivity. Then, on the other side, Panthea, Queenof Susiana, and wife of one of the enemy princes, falls into Cyrus'shands, and with Araminta (who is, it should have, if it has not been,said earlier, sister of the King of Pontus) furnishes valuable hostagefor good treatment of Mandane and other Medo-Persian-Phrygian-Hircanianprisoners.

  Things having thus been fairly bustled up for a time, a _Histoire_ is,of course, imminent, and we have it, of about usual length, concerningthe Lydian Princess Palmis and a certain Cleandre; while, even when thisis done, we fall back, not on the main story, but once more on that ofAglatidas and Amestris, which is in a sad plight, for Amestris (who hasbeen married against her will and is _maumariee_ too) thinks she is awidow, and finds she is not.

  It has just been mentioned that Palmis is a Lydian Princess; and beforethe end of this Part Croesus comes personally into the story, being thehead of a formidable combination to supplant the King of Pontus, detainMandane, and, if possible (as the well-known oracle, in the usualambiguity (_v. inf._), encourages him to hope), conquer the Medo-Persianempire and make it his own. But the _Histoire_ mania--now furtherexcited by consistence in working the personages so obtained ingenerally--is in great evidence, and "Lygdamis and Cleonice" supply alarge proportion of the early and all the middle of the eighth volume,the second of the Fourth Part. There is, however, much more businessthan usual at the end to make up for any slackness at the beginning. Ina side-action with the Lydians both Cyrus and the King of Assyria arecaptured by force of numbers, though the former is at once released bythe Princess Palmis, as well as Artames, son of Cyrus's Phrygian ally,whom Croesus chooses to consider as a rebel, and intends to put todeath. Here, however, the captive Queen and Princess, Panthea andAraminta, come into good play, and exercise strong and successfulinfluence through the husband of the one and the brother of the other.But at the end of book, volume, and part we leave Cyrus once more in thedismals. For though he has actually seen Mandane he cannot get at her,and he has heard three apparently most unfavourable oracles; theBabylonian one, which was quoted above, and which he, like everybodyelse, takes as a promise of success to Philidaspes; the ambiguousDelphic forecast of "the fall of _an_ Empire" to Croesus; and that ofhis own death at the hands of a hostile queen, the only one which,historically, was to be fulfilled in its apparent sense, while theothers were not. He cares, indeed, not much about the two last, butinfinitely about the first.

  At the opening of the Fifth Part (ninth volume) there is a short butcurious "Address to the Reader," announcing the fulfilment of the firsthalf of the promised production, and bidding him not be downhearted, forthe first of the second half (the Sixth Part or eleventh volume of thewhole) is actually at Press. It may be noticed that there is a swaggerabout these _avis_ and such like things, which probably _is_attributable to Georges, and not to Madeleine.[174]

  The inevitable _Histoire_ comes earlier than usual in this division, andis of unusual importance; for it deals with two persons of greatdistinction, and already introduced in the story, Queen Panthea and herhusband Abradates. It is also one of the longer batch, running to somefour hundred pages; and a notable part in it and in the future mainstory is played by one Doralise--a pretty name, which Dryden, making itprettier still by substituting a _c_ for the _s_, borrowed for his mostoriginal and (with that earlier Florimel of _The Maiden Queen_, who issaid to have been studied directly off Nell Gwyn) perhaps his mostattractive heroine, the Doralice of _Marriage a la Mode_. Anotherimportant character, the villain of the sub-plot, is one Mexaris.[175]At the end of the first instalment we leave Cyrus preparing elaboratemachines of war to crush the Lydians.

  Early in Book II. we hear of a mysterious warrior on the enemy side whomnobody knows, who calls himself Telephanes, and whom Cyrus is veryanxious to meet in battle, but for the time cannot. He is alsofrustrated in his challenge of the King of Pontus to fight forMandane--a challenge of which Croesus will not hear. At last Telephanesturns out to be no less a person than Mazare, Prince of Sacia, whom weknow already as one of the ever-multiplying lovers and abductors of theheroine; while, after a good deal of confused fighting, another inset_Histoire_ of him closes the tenth volume (V. ii.). It is, however, onlytwo hundred pages long--a mere parenthesis compared to others, and itleads up to his giving Cyrus a letter from Mandane--an act of generositywhich Philidaspes, otherwise King of Assyria, frankly confesses that he,as another Rival, could never have done. After yet another _Histoire_(now a "four-some") of Belesis, Hermogenes, Cleodare, and Leonice,Abradates changes sides, carrying us on to an "intricate impeach" ofold and new characters, especially Araminta and Spithridates, and to thedeath in battle of the generous King of Susiana himself, and the griefof Panthea. There is, at the close of this volume, a rather interesting_Privilege du Roi_, signed by Conrart ("_le silencieux Conrart_"),sealed with "the great seal of yellow wax in a simple tail" (one ribbonor piece of ferret only?), and bestowing its rights "nonobstant Clameurde Haro, Charte Normande, et autres lettres contraires."

  The first volume of the Sixth Part (the eleventh of the whole and thefirst of what, as so many words of the kind are required, we may callthe Second Division) has plenty of business--showing that the author orher adviser was also a business-like person--to commence the newventure. Cyrus, after being victorious in the field and just about tobesiege Sardis in form, receives a "bolt from the blue" in the shape ofa letter "From the unhappy Mandane to the faithless"--himself! She haslearnt, she tells him, that his feelings towards her are changed,requests that she may no longer serve as a pretext for his ambition,and--rather straining the prerogatives assumed even by her nearestances
tresses in literature, the Polisardas and Miraguardas of the_Amadis_ group, but scarcely dreamt of by the heroines of ancient GreekRomance--desires that he will send back to her father Cyaxares all thetroops that he is, as she implies, commanding on false pretences.

  Now one half expects that Cyrus, in a transport ofAmadisian-Euphuist-heroism, will comply with this very modest request.In fact it is open to any one to contend that, according to thestrictest rules of the game, he ought to have done so and gone mad, orat least marooned himself in some desert island, in consequence. Thesophistication, however, of the stage appears here. After a very naturalsort of "Well, I never!" translated into proper heroic language, he setsto work to identify the person whom Mandane suspects to be herrival--for she has carefully abstained from naming anybody. And heasks--with an ingenious touch of self-confession which does the authorgreat credit, if it was consciously laid on--whether it can be Pantheaor Araminta, with both of whom he has, in fact, been, if not exactlyflirting, carrying on (as the time itself would have said) a "commerceof respectful and obliging admiration." He has a long talk with hisconfidant Feraulas (whose beloved and really lovable Martesie is,unluckily, not at hand to illuminate the mystery), and then he writes as"The Unfortunate Cyrus to the Unjust Mandane," tells her pretty roundly,though, of course, still respectfully, that if she knew how thingsreally were "she would think herself the cruellest and most unjustperson in the world." [I should have added, "just as she is, in fact,the most beautiful."] She is, he says, his first and last passion, andhe has never been more than polite to any one else. But she will kindlyexcuse his not complying with her request to send back his army until hehas vanquished all his Rivals--where, no doubt, in the original, thecapital was bigger and more menacing than ever, and was written with anappropriate gnashing of teeth.

  The traditional balance of luck and love, however, holds; and the armiesof Croesus and the King of Pontus begin to melt away; so that, after ashort but curious pastoral episode, they have to shut themselves up inthe capital. The dead body of Abradates is now found, and his widowPanthea stabs herself upon it. This removes one of Mandane's possiblecauses of jealousy, but Araminta remains; and, as a matter of fact, it_is_ this Princess on whom her suspicion has been cast, arising partly,though helped by makebates, from the often utilised personal resemblancebetween her actual lover, Prince Spithridates, and Cyrus. Thetreacherous King of Pontus has, in fact, shown her a letter fromAraminta (his sister, be it remembered) which seems to encourage theidea.

  All this, however, and more fills but a hundred pages or so, and then weare as usual whelmed in a _Histoire de Timarete et de Parthenie_, whichtakes up four times the space, and finishes the First Book. The Secondopens smartly enough with the actual siege of Sardis; but we cannot getrid of Araminta (it is sad to have to wish that she was not "our ownAraminta" quite so often) and Spithridates. Conversations between thestill prejudiced Mandane and the Lydian Princess Palmis--a sensible andagreeable girl--are better; but from them we are hurled into a _Histoirede Sesostre_ (the Egyptian prince, son of Amasis, who is now an ally ofCyrus) _et de Timarete_, which not only fills the whole of the rest ofthe volume, but swells over into the next, being much occupied with thevillainies of a certain Heracleon, who is at the time a wounded prisonerin Cyrus's Camp. The siege is kept up briskly, but Cyrus's courteousrelease of certain captives adds fuel to Mandane's wrath as having beenprocured by Araminta. He will do anything for Araminta! The releasesthemselves give rise to fresh "alarums and excursions," among which weagain meet a pretty name (Candiope), borrowed by Dryden. Doralise isalso much to the fore; and we have a regular _Histoire_, though ashorter one than usual, of _Arpalice and Thrasimede_, which will, assome say, "bulk largely" later. The length of this part is, indeed,enormous, the double volume running to over fourteen hundred pages,instead of the usual ten or twelve. But its close is spirited andsufficiently interim-catastrophic. Cyrus discovers in the _enceinte_ ofSardis the usual weak point--an apparently impregnable scarped rock,which has been weakly fortified and garrisoned--takes it by escalade inperson with his best paladins, and after it the city.

  But of course he cannot expect to have it all his own way when not quitetwelve-twentieths of the book are gone, and he finds that Mandane isgone likewise; the King of Pontus, who has practically usurped theauthority of Croesus, having once more carried her off--perhaps not soentirely unwilling as before. Cyrus pursues, and while he is absent theKing of Assyria (Philidaspes) shows himself even more of a "PhilipDevil" than usual by putting the captive Lydian prince on a pyre,threatening to burn him if he will not reveal the place of thePrincess's flight, and actually having the torch applied. Of courseCyrus turns up at the nick of time, has the fire put out, rates the Kingof Assyria soundly for his violence, and apologises handsomely toCroesus. The notion of an apology for nearly roasting a man may appearto have its ludicrous side, but the way in which the historic pyre andthe mention of Solon are brought in without discrediting the hero iscertainly ingenious. The Mandane-hunt is renewed, but fruitlessly.

  At the beginning of Part VII. there are--according to the habit noticed,and in rather extra measure as regards "us" if not "them"--someinteresting things. The first is an example--perhaps the best in thebook--of the elaborate description (called in Greek rhetorical technique_ecphrasis_) which is so common in the Greek Romances. The subject is anextraordinarily beautiful statue of a woman which Cyrus sees inCroesus's gallery, and which will have sequels later. It, or part of it,may be given:

  [Sidenote: The statue in the gallery at Sardis.]

  But, among all these figures of gold, there was to be seen one of marble, so wonderful, that it obliged Cyrus to stay longer in admiring it than in contemplating any of the others, though it was not of such precious material. It is true that it was executed with such art, and represented such a beautiful person, as to prevent any strangeness in its charming a Prince whose eyes were so delicate and so capable of judging all beautiful objects. This statue was of life-size, placed upon a pedestal of gold, on the four sides of which were bas-reliefs of an admirable beauty. On each were seen captives, chained in all sorts of fashions, but chained only by little Loves, unsurpassably executed. As for the figure itself, it represented a girl about eighteen years old, but one of surprising and perfect beauty. Every feature of the face was marvellously fine;[176] her figure was at once so noble and so graceful that nothing more elegant[177] could be seen; and her dress was at once so handsome and so unusual, that it had something of each of the usual garbs of Tyrian ladies, of nymphs, and of goddesses; but more particularly that of the Wingless Victory, as represented by the Athenians, with a simple laurel crown on her head. This statue was so well set on its base, and had such lively action, that it seemed actually animated; the face, the throat, the arms, and the hands were of white marble, as were the legs and feet, which were partly visible between the laces of the buskins she wore, and which were to be seen because, with her left hand, she lifted her gown a little, as if to walk more easily. With her right she held back a veil, fastened behind her head under the crown of laurel, as though to prevent its being carried away by the breeze, which seemed to agitate it. The whole of the drapery of the figure was made of divers-coloured marbles and jaspers; and, in particular, the gown of this fair Phoenician, falling in a thousand graceful folds, which still did not hide the exact proportion of her body, was of jasper, of a colour so deep that it almost rivalled Tyrian purple itself. A scarf, which passed negligently round her neck, and was fastened on the shoulder, was of a kind of marble, streaked with blue and white, which was very agreeable to the eye. The veil was of the same substance; but sculptured so artfully that it seemed as soft as mere gauze. The laurel crown was of green jasper, and the buskins, as well as the sash she wore, were, again of different hues. This sash brought together all the folds of the gown over the hips;
below, they fell again more carelessly, and still showed the beauty of her figure. But what was most worthy of admiration in the whole piece was the spirit which animated it, and almost persuaded the spectators that she was just about to walk and talk. There was even a touch of art in her face, and a certain haughtiness in her attitude which made her seem to scorn the captives chained beneath her feet: while the sculptor had so perfectly realised the indefinable freshness, tenderness, and _embonpoint_ of beautiful girls, that one almost knew her age.

  Then come two more startling events. A wicked Prince Phraortes boltswith the unwilling Araminta, and the King of Assyria (_alias_Philidaspes) slips away in search of Mandane on his own account--twothings inconvenient to Cyrus in some ways, but balancing themselves inothers. For if it is unpleasant to have a very violent and ratherunscrupulous Rival hunting the beloved on the one hand, that beloved'sjealousy, if not cured, is at least not likely to be increased by thedisappearance of its object. This last, however, hits Spithridates, whois, as it has been and will be seen, the _souffre-douleur_ of the book,much harder. And the double situation illustrates once more theextraordinary care taken in systematising--and as one might almost say_syllabising_--the book. It is almost impossible that there should notsomewhere exist an actual syllabus of the whole, though, my habit beingrather to read books themselves than books about them, I am not aware ofone as a fact.[178]

  Another characteristic is also well illustrated in this context, and afurther translated extract will show the curious, if not very recondite,love-casuistry which plays so large a part. But these French writers ofthe seventeenth century[179] did not know one-tenth of the matter thatwas known by their or others' mediaeval ancestors, by their English andperhaps Spanish contemporaries, or by writers in the nineteenth century.They were not "perfect in love-lore"; their _Liber Amoris_ was, afterall, little more than a fashion-book in divers senses of "fashion." Butlet them speak for themselves:

  [Sidenote: The judgment of Cyrus in a court of love.]

  [_Menecrate and Thrasimede are going to fight, and have, according to the unqualified legal theory[180] and very occasional actual practice of seventeenth-century France, if not of the Medes and Persians, been arrested, though in honourable fashion. The "dependence" is a certain Arpalice, who loves Thrasimede and is loved by him. But she is ordered by her father's will to marry Menecrate, who is now quite willing to marry her, though she hates him, and though he has previously been in love with Androclee, to whom he has promised that he will not marry the other. A sort of informal_ Cour d'Amour _is held on the subject, the President being Cyrus himself, and the judges Princesses Timarete and Palmis, Princes Sesostris and Myrsilus, with "Toute la compagnie" as assessors and assessoresses. After much discussion, it is decided to disregard the dead father's injunction and the living inconstant's wishes, and to unite Thrasimede and Arpalice. But the chief points of interest lie in the following remarks:_]

  "As it seems to me," said Cyrus, "what we ought most to consider in this matter is the endeavour to make the fewest possible persons unhappy, and to prevent a combat between two gentlemen of such gallantry, that to whichever side victory inclines, we should have cause to regret the vanquished. For although Menecrate is inconstant and a little capricious, he has, for all that, both wits and a heart. We must, then, if you please," added he, turning to the two princesses, "consider that if Arpalice were forced to carry out her father's testament and marry Menecrate, everybody would be unhappy, and he would have to fight two duels,[181] one against Thrasimede and one against Philistion (_Androclee's brother_), the one fighting for his mistress, the other for his sister." "No doubt," said Lycaste, "several people will be unhappy, but, methinks, not all; for at any rate Menecrate will possess _his_ mistress." "'Tis true," said Cyrus, "that he will possess Arpalice's beauty; but I am sure that as he would not possess her heart, he could not call himself satisfied; and his greatest happiness in this situation would be having prevented the happiness of his Rival. As for the rest of it, after the first days of his marriage, he would be in despair at having wedded a person who hated him, and whom he, perhaps, would have ceased to love; for, considering Menecrate's humour, I am the most deceived of all men if the possession of what he loves is not the very thing to kill all love in his heart. As for Arpalice, it is easy to see that, marrying Menecrate, whom she hates, and _not_ marrying Thrasimede, whom she loves, she would be very unhappy indeed; nor could Androclee, on her side, be particularly satisfied to see a man like Menecrate, whom she loves passionately, the husband of another. Philistion could hardly be any more pleased to see Menecrate, after promising to marry his sister, actually marrying another. As for Thrasimede, it is again easy to perceive that, being as much in love with Arpalice as he is, and knowing that she loves him, he would have good reason for thinking himself one of the unhappiest lovers in the world if his Rival possessed his mistress. Therefore, from what I have said, you will see that by giving Arpalice to Menecrate, everybody concerned is made miserable; for even Parmenides [_not the philosopher, but a friend of Menecrate, whose sister, however, has rejected him_], though he may make a show of being still attached to the interests of Menecrate, will be, unless I mistake, well enough pleased that his sister should not marry the brother of a person whom he never wishes to see again, and by whom he has been ill-treated. Then, if we look at the matter from the other side and propose to give Arpalice to Thrasimede, it remains an unalterable fact that these two people will be happy; that Philistion will be satisfied; that justice will be done to Androclee; that nothing disobliging will be done to Parmenides, and that Menecrate will be made by force more happy than he wishes to be; for we shall give him a wife by whom he is loved, and take from him one by whom he is hated. Moreover, things being so, even if he refuses to subject his whim to his reason, he can wish to come to blows with Thrasimede alone, and would have nothing to ask of Philistion; besides which, his sentiments will change as soon as Thrasimede is Arpalice's husband. One often fights with a Rival, thinking to profit by his defeat, when he has not married the beloved object; but one does not so readily fight the husband of one's mistress, as being her lover.[182]"

  Much about the "Good Rival" (as we may call him) Mazare follows, andthere is an illuminative sentence about our favourite Doralise's _humeurenjouee et critique_, which, as the rest of her part does, gives us a"light" as to the origin of those sadly vulgarised lively heroines ofRichardson's whom Lady Mary very justly wanted to "slipper." Doraliseand Martesie are ladies, which the others, unfortunately, are not. Andthen we pay for our _ecphrasis_ by an immense _Histoire_ of the TyrianElise, its original.

  At the beginning of VII. ii. Cyrus is in the doldrums. Many of hisheroes have got their heroines--the personages of bygone_histoires_--and are honeymooning and (to borrow again from Mr. Kipling)"dancing on the deck." He is not. Moreover, the army, like allseventeenth-century armies after victory and in comfortable quarters, isgetting rather out of hand; and he learns that the King of Pontus hascarried Mandane off to Cumae--not the famous Italian Cumae, home of theSibyl whom Sir Edward Burne-Jones has fixed for us, and of manyclassical memories, but a place somewhere near Miletus, defended byunpleasant marshes on land, and open to the sea itself, the element onwhich Cyrus is weakest, and by which the endlessly carried off Mandanemay readily be carried off again. He sends about for help to Phoeniciaand elsewhere; but when, after a smart action by land against the town,a squadron does appear off the port, he is for a time quite uncertainwhether it is friend or foe. Fortunately Cleobuline, Queen of Corinth, ayoung widow of surpassing beauty and the noblest sentiments, who hassworn never to marry again, has conceived a Platonic-romantic admirationfor him, and has
sent her fleet to his aid. She deserves, of course, andstill more of course has, a _Histoire de Cleobuline_. Also theinestimable Martesie writes to say that Mandane has been dispossessed ofher suspicions, and that the King of Pontus is, in the race for herfavour, nowhere. The city falls, and the lovers meet. But if anybodythinks for a moment that they are to be happy ever afterwards,Arithmetic, Logic, and Literary History will combine to prove to himthat he is very much mistaken. In order to make these two lovers happyat all, not only time and space, but six extremely solid volumes wouldhave to be annihilated.

  The close of VII. ii. and the whole of VIII. i. are occupied withimbroglios of the most characteristic kind. There is a certain Anaxaris,who has been instrumental in preventing Mandane from being, according toher almost invariable custom, carried off from Cumae also. To whom,though he is one of the numerous "unknowns" of the book, Cyrus rashlyconfides not only the captainship of the Princess's guards, but variousand too many other things, especially when "Philip Devil" turns up oncemore, and, seeing the lovers in apparent harmony, claims the fulfilmentof Cyrus's rash promise to fight him before marrying. This gets wind ina way, and watch is kept on Cyrus by his friends; but he, thinking ofthe parlous state of his mistress if both her principal lovers werekilled--for Prince Mazare is, so to speak, out of the running, while theKing of Pontus is still lying _perdu_ somewhere--entrusts the secret toAnaxaris, and begs him to take care of her. Now Anaxaris--as is sousual--is not Anaxaris at all, but Aryante, Prince of the Massagetae andactually brother of the redoubtable Queen Thomyris; and he also hasfallen a victim to Mandane's fascinations, which appear to beirresistible, though they are, mercifully perhaps, rather taken forgranted than made evident to the reader. One would certainly rather haveone Doralise or Martesie than twenty Mandanes. However, again in the nowexpected manner, the fight does not immediately come off. For "PhilipDevil," in his usual headlong violence, has provoked another duel withthe Assyrian Prince Intaphernes,[183] and has been badly worsted andwounded by his foe, who is unhurt. This puts everything off, and for along time the main story drops again (except as far as the struggles ofAnaxaris between honour and love are depicted), first to a great deal ofmiscellaneous talk about the quarrel of King and Prince, and then to aregular _Histoire_ of the King, Intaphernes, Atergatis, PrincessIstrine, and the Princess of Bithynia, Spithridates's sister anddaughter of a very robustious and rather usurping King Arsamones, who isa deadly enemy of Cyrus. The dead Queen Nitocris, and the passion forher of a certain Gadates, Intaphernes's father, and also sometimes, ifnot always, called a "Prince," come in here. The story again introducesthe luckless Spithridates himself, who is first, owing to his likenessto Cyrus, persecuted by Thomyris, and then imprisoned by his fatherArsamones because he will not give up Araminta and marry Istrine, whomNitocris had wanted to marry her own son Philidaspes--a good instance ofthe extraordinary complications and contrarieties in which the bookindulges, and of which, if Dickens had been a more "literary" person, hemight have thought when he made the unfortunate Augustus Moddle observethat "everybody appears to be somebody else's." Finally, the volume endswith an account of the leisurely progress of Mandane and Cyrus toEcbatana and Cyaxares, while the King of Assyria recovers as best hecan. But at certain "tombs" on the route evidence is found that the Kingof Pontus has been recently in the land of the living, and is by nomeans disposed to give up Mandane.

  The second volume of this part is one of the most eventless of all, andis mainly occupied by a huge _Histoire_ of Puranius, Prince of Phocaea,his love Cleonisbe, and others, oddly topped by a passage of the mainstory, describing Cyrus's emancipation of the captive Jews. He is for atime separated from the Princess.

  The first pages of IX. i. are lively, though they are partly a _recit_.Prince Intaphernes tells Cyrus all about Anaxaris (Aryante), and how byrepresenting Cyrus as dead and the King of Assyria in full pursuit ofher, he has succeeded in carrying off Mandane; how also he has had thecunning, by availing himself of the passion of another high officer,Andramite, for Doralise, to induce him to join, in order that the maidof honour may accompany her mistress. Accordingly Cyrus, the King ofAssyria himself, and others start off in fresh pursuit; but the King hasat first the apparent luck. He overtakes the fugitives, and a sharpfight follows. But the guards whom Cyrus has placed over the Princess,and who, in the belief of his death, have followed the ravishers, aretoo much for Philidaspes, and he is fatally wounded; fulfilling theoracle, as we anticipated long ago, by dying in Mandane's arms, andhonoured with a sigh from her as for her intended rescuer.

  She herself, therefore, is in no better plight, for Aryante andAndramite continue the flight, with her and her ladies, to a port on theEuxine, destroying, that they may not be followed, all the shipping saveone craft they select, and making for the northern shore. Here after atime Aryante surrenders Mandane to his sister Thomyris, as he cannotwell help doing, though he knows her violent temper and her tigress-likepassion for Cyrus, and though, also, he is on rather less than brotherlyterms with her, and has a party among the Massagetae who would gladlysee him king. Meanwhile the King of Pontus and Phraortes, Araminta'scarrier-off, fight and kill each other, and Araminta is given up--a lossfor Mandane, for they have been companions in quasi-captivity, and thereis no longer any subject of jealousy between them.

  Having thus created a sort of "deadlock" situation such as she loves,and in the interval, while Cyrus is gathering forces to attack Thomyris,the author, as is her fashion likewise, surrenders herself to the joysof digression. We have a great deal of retrospective history of Aryante,and at last the famous Scythian philosopher, Anacharsis, is introduced,bringing with him the rest of the Seven Ancient Sages--with whom wecould dispense, but are not allowed to do so. There is a Banquet of themall at the end of the first volume of the Part; and they overflow intothe second, telling stories about Pisistratus and others, and discussing"love in the _aib_-stract," as frigidly as might be expected, on suchpoints as, "Can you love the same person _twice_?"[184] But the lasthalf of this IX. ii. is fortunately business again. There is much hardfighting with Thomyris, who on one occasion wishes to come to actualsword-play with Cyrus, and of whom we have the liveliest _ecphrasis_, orset description, in the whole romance.

  [Sidenote: Thomyris on the warpath.]

  As for Thomyris, she was so beautiful that day that there was no one in the world save Mandane, who could have disputed a heart with her[185] without the risk of losing. This Princess was mounted on a fine black horse, trapped with gold; her dress was of cloth of gold, with green panels shot with a little carnation, and was of the shape of that of Pallas when she is represented as armed. The skirt was caught up on the hip with diamond clasps, and showed buskins of lions' muzzles made to correspond with the rest. Her head-dress was adorned with jewels, and a great number of feathers--carnation, white and green--hung over her beautiful fair tresses, while these, fluttering at the wind's will, mixed themselves with the plumes as she turned her head, and with their careless curls gave a marvellous lustre to her beauty. Besides, as her sleeves were turned up, and caught on the shoulder, while she held the bridle of her horse with one hand and her sword with the other, she showed the loveliest arms in the world. Anger had flushed her complexion, so that she was more beautiful than usual; and the joy of once more seeing Cyrus, and seeing him also in an action respectful towards her,[186] effaced the marks of her immediately preceding fury so completely that he could see nothing but what was amiable and charming.

  Thomyris, however, is as treacherous and cruel as she is beautiful; andpart of her reason for seeming milder is that more of her troops mayturn up and seize him.

  On another occasion, owing to false generalship and disorderly advanceon the part of the King of Hyrcania, Cyrus is in no small danger, but he"makes good," though at a disastrous expense, and with still greaterdangers to meet. Thomyris's youthful son (for young and beautiful widowas she is, she has been an early mar
ried wife and a mother),Spargapises, just of military age, is captured in battle, suffers fromhis captors' ignorance what has been called "the indelible insult ofbonds," and though almost instantly released as soon as he is known,stabs himself as disgraced. His body is sent to his mother with allsorts of honours, apologies, and regrets, but she, partly out of naturalfeeling, partly from her excited state, and partly because her mind ispoisoned by false insinuations, sends, after transports of maternal andother rage, a message to Cyrus to the effect that if he does not puthimself unreservedly in her hands, she will send him back Mandane dead,in the coffin of Spargapises. And so the last double-volume but one endswith a suitable "fourth act" curtain, as we may perhaps call it.

  The last of all, X. i. and ii., exhibits, in a remarkable degree, thegeneral defects and the particular merits and promise of this curiousand (it cannot be too often repeated) epoch-making book. In the latterrespect more especially it shows the "laborious orient ivory sphere insphere" fashion in which the endless and, it may sometimes seem, aimlessepisodes, and digressions, and insets are worked into the general theme.The defects will hardly startle, though they may still annoy, any onewho has worked through the whole. But if another wickedly contentedhimself with a sketch of the story up to this point, and thought to makeup by reading this Part of two volumes carefully, he would probably feelthese defects very strongly indeed. We--we corrupt moderns--do expect aquickening up for the run-in. The usual beginning may seem to thenon-experts to promise this, or at least to give hopes of it; for thoughthere is a vast deal of talking--with Anacharsis as a go-between andGelonide (a good confidante), endeavouring to soften Thomyris, one canbut expect it--the situation itself is at once difficult and exciting.The position of Aryante in particular is really novel-dramatic. As he isin love with Mandane, he of course does not want his sister to murderher. But inasmuch as he fears Cyrus's rivalry, he does not want him tobe near Mandane for two obvious reasons: first, the actual proximity,and, secondly, the danger of Thomyris's temper getting the better (orworse) of her when both the lovers are in her power. So he sends privatemessengers to the Persian Prince, begging him _not_ to surrender. Cyrus,however, still thinks of exchanging himself for Mandane. At this pointthe neophyte's rage may be excited by being asked to plunge into theregular four-hundred page _Histoire_ of a certain Arpasie, who has twolovers--a Persian nobleman Hidaspe, and a supposed Assyrian championMeliante, who has come with reinforcements for Thomyris. And no doubtthe proportion _is_ outrageous. But "wait and see," a phrase, it may beobserved, which was not, as some seem to think, invented by Mr. Asquith.

  At last the business does begin again, and a tremendous battle takesplace for the possession of certain forests which lie between the twoarmies, and are at first held by the Scythians. Cyrus, however, availshimself of the services of an engineer who has a secret of combustibles,sets the forests ablaze, and forces his way through one or two opendefiles, with little loss to himself and very heavy loss to the enemy,whose main body, however, is still unbroken. This affords a fine subjectfor one of the curious frontispieces known to all readers of seventeenthcentury books. A further wait for reinforcements takes place, and theauthor basely avails herself of it for a no doubt to herself verycongenial (they actually called her in "precious" circles by the name ofthe great poetess) and enormous _Histoire_ of no less a person thanSappho, which fills the last 250 pages of the first (nineteenth) volumeand about as much of the second (twentieth) or last. It has very littleconnection with the text, save that Sappho and Phaon (for theself-precipitation at Leucas is treated as a fable) retire to thecountry of the Sauromatae, to live there a happy, united, but unwed andpurely Platonic (in the silly sense) existence. The foolish side of the_precieuse_ system comes out here, and the treatment confirms one'ssuspicion that the author's classical knowledge was not very deep.

  It does come to an end at last, however, and at last also we do get our"run-in," such as it is. The chief excuse for its existence is that itbrings in a certain Mereonte, who, like his quasi-assonant Meliante, isto be useful later, and that the tame conclusion is excused by a Sapphictheory--certainly not to be found in her too fragmentary works--that"possession ruins love," a doctrine remembered and better put by Drydenin a speech of that very agreeable Doralice, whose name, though notoriginally connected with this part of it, he also, as has been noted,borrowed from the _Grand Cyrus_.

  The actual finale begins (so to speak) antithetically with the lastmisfortune of the unlucky Spithridates. His ill-starred likeness toCyrus, assisted by a suit of armour which Cyrus has given to him, makethe enemy certain that he is Cyrus himself, and he is furiouslyassaulted in an off-action, surrounded, and killed. His head is takento Thomyris, who, herself deceived, executes upon it the famous"blood-bath" of history or legend.[187] Unfortunately it is not only inthe Scythian army that the error spreads. Cyrus's troops are terrifiedand give way, so that he is overpowered by numbers and captured.Fortunately he falls into the hands, not of Thomyris's own people or ofher savage allies, the Geloni (it is a Gelonian captain who has acted asexecutioner in Spithridates's case), but of the supposed Assyrian leaderMeliante, who is an independent person, admires Cyrus, and, furtherpersuaded by his friend Mereonte (_v. sup._), resolves to let himescape. The difficulties, however, are great, and the really safest,though apparently the most dangerous way, seems to lie through the"Royal Tents" (the nomad capital of Thomyris) themselves. Meanwhile,Aryante is making interest against his sister; some of Cyrus's specialfriends, disguised as Massagetae, are trying to discover and rescue him,and the Sauromatae are ready to desert the Scythian Queen. One of hertransports of rage brings on the catastrophe. She orders the Gelonianbravo to poniard Mandane, and he actually stabs by mistake hermaid-of-honour Hesionide--the least interesting one, luckily. Cyrushimself, after escaping notice for a time, is identified, attacked, andnearly slain, when the whole finishes in a general chaos of rebellion,arrival of friends, flight of Thomyris, and a hairbreadth escape ofCyrus himself, which unluckily partakes more of the possible-improbablethan of the impossible-probable. The murders being done, the marriageswould appear to have nothing to delay them; but an evil habit, theorigin of which is hard to trace, and which is not quite extinct, stillputs them off. Meliante has got to be rewarded with the hand of Arpasie,which is accomplished after he has been discovered, in a manner notentirely romantic, to be the son of the King of Hyrcania, and both hismarriage and that of Cyrus are interfered with by a supposed Law of theMedes and of certain minor Asiatic peoples, that a Prince or Princessmay not marry a foreigner. Fresh discoveries get rid of this inMeliante's case, while in that of Cyrus a convenient Oracle declaresthat he who has conquered every kingdom in Asia cannot be considered aforeigner in any. So at last the long chart is finished, Doraliseretaining her character as lightener of this rather solid entertainmentby declaring that she cannot say she loves her suitor, Prince Myrsilus,because every phrase that occurs to her is either too strong or tooweak. So we bless her, and stop the water channels--or, as the Limousinstudent might have more excellently said, "claud the rives."

  * * * * *

  [Sidenote: General remarks on the book and its class.]

  If the reader, having tolerated this long analysis (it is perhaps mostprobable that he will _not_ have done so), asks what game one pretendsto have shown for so much expenditure or candle, it is, no doubt, noteasy to answer him without a fresh, though a lesser, trial of hispatience. You cannot "ticket" the _Grand Cyrus_, or any of its fellows,or the whole class, with any complimentary short description, such as acertain school of ancient criticism loved, and corresponding to ourmodern advertisement labels--"grateful and comforting," "necessary inevery travelling bag," and the like. They are, indeed, as I haveendeavoured to indicate indirectly as well as directly, by no means sodestitute of interest of the ordinary kind as it has generally been thefashion to think them. From the charge of inordinate length it is, ofcourse, impossible to clear the whole class, and _Artamene_ moreparticularly.[188] Le
ngth "no more than reason" is in some judgments apositive advantage in a novel; but this _is_ more than reason. I believe(the _moi_, I trust, is not utterly _haissable_ when it is necessary)that I myself am a rather unusually rapid, without being a careless orunfaithful, reader; and that I have by nature a very little of thatfaculty with which some much greater persons have been credited, ofbeing able to see at a glance whether anything on a page needs morethan that glance or not, a faculty not likely to have been renderedabortive (though also not, I hope, rendered morbid) by infinite practicein reviewing. I do not say that, even now, I have read every word ofthis _Artamene_ as I should read every word of a sonnet of Shakespeareor a lyric of Shelley, even as I should read every word of a page ofThackeray. I have even skimmed many pages. But I have never found, evenin a time of "retired leisure," that I could get through more thanthree, or at the very utmost four, of the twenty volumes or half-volumeswithout a day or two of rest or other work between. On the other hand,the book is not significantly piquant in detail to enable me to readattentively fifty or a hundred pages and then lay it down.[189] You do,in a lazy sort of way, want to know what happened--a tribute, no doubt,to Mlle. Madeleine--and so you have to go on ploughing the furrow. Butseveral weeks' collar-work[190] is a great deal to spend on a singlebook of what is supposed to be pastime; and the pastime becomesoccasionally one of doubtful pleasure now and then. In fact, it is, ashas been said, best to read in shifts. Secondly, there may, no doubt, becharged a certain unreality about the whole: and a good many othercriticisms may be, as some indeed have been already, made withoutinjustice.

  The fact is that not only was the time not yet, but something which wasvery specially of the time stood in the way of the other thing coming,despite the strong _nisus_ in its favour excited by various influencesspoken of at the beginning of this chapter. This was thedevotion--French at almost all times, and specially French at this--tothe type. There are some "desperate willins" (as Sam Weller called thegreengrocer at the swarry) who fail to see much more than types inRacine, though there is something more in Corneille, and a very greatdeal more in Moliere. In the romances which charmed at home theaudiences and spectators of these three great men's work abroad, thereis nothing, or next to nothing, else at all. The spirit of the _Epistleto the Pisos_, which acted on the Tragedians in verse, which acted onBoileau in criticism and poetry, was heavier on the novelist than on anyof them. Take sufficient generosity, magnanimity, adoration, bravery,courtesy, and so forth, associate the mixture with handsome flesh androyal blood, clothe the body thus formed with brilliant scarfs andshining armour, put it on the best horse that was ever foaled, or kneelit at the feet of the most beautiful princess that ever existed, and youhave Cyrus. For the princess herself take beauty, dignity, modesty,graciousness, etc., _quant. suff._, clothe _them_ in garments againmagnificent, and submit the total to extreme inconveniences, somedangers, and an immense amount of involuntary travelling, but nothing"irreparable," and you have Mandane. For the rest, with the rare andslight exceptions mentioned, they flit like shadows ticketed with moreor less beautiful names. Even Philidaspes, the most prominent malecharacter after the hero by far, is, whether he be "in cog" as thatpersonage or "out of cog" as Prince and King of Assyria, merely apetulant hero--a sort of cheap Achilles, with no idiosyncrasy at all. Itis the fault, and in a way the very great fault, of all the kind: andthere is nothing more to do with it but to admit it and look forsomething to set against it.

  How great a thing the inception (to use a favourite word of the presentday, though it be no favourite of the writer's) of the "psychological"treatment of Love[191] was may, of course, be variously estimated. Thegood conceit of itself in which that day so innocently and amusinglyindulges will have it, indeed, that the twentieth century has inventedthis among other varieties of the great and venerable art of extractingnourishment from eggs. "We have," somebody wrote not long ago--the exactwords may not be given, but the sense is guaranteed--"perceived thatLove is not merely a sentiment, an appetite, or a passion, but a greatmeans of intellectual development." Of course Solomon did not know this,nor Sappho, nor Catullus, nor the fashioners of those "sentiments" ofthe Middle Ages which brought about the half-fabulous Courts of Loveitself, nor Chaucer, nor Spenser, nor Shakespeare, nor Donne. It wasreserved for--but one never names contemporaries except _honoris causa_.

  It is--an "of course" of another kind--undeniable that the fashion oflove-philosophy which supplies so large a part of the "yarn" ofMadeleine de Scudery's endless rope or web is not _our_ fashion. But itis, in a way, a new variety of yarn as compared with anything usedbefore in prose, even in the Greek romances[192] and the _Amadis_ group(nay, even in the _Astree_ itself). Among other things, it connectsitself more with the actual society, manners, fashions of its day thanhad ever been the case before, and this is the only interesting side ofthe "key" part of it. This was the way that they did to some extent talkand act then, though, to be sure, they also talked and acted verydifferently. It is all very well to say that the Hotel de Rambouillet isa sort of literary-historical fiction, and the _Precieuses Ridicules_ adelightful farce. The fiction was not wholly a fiction, and the farcewas very much more than a farce--would have been, indeed, not a farce atall if it had not satirised a fact.

  It is, however, in relation to the general history and development ofthe novel, and therefore in equally important relation to the present_History_, that the importance of the _Grand Cyrus_, or rather of theclass of which it was by far the most popular and noteworthy member, ismost remarkable. Indeed this importance can hardly be exaggerated, andis much more likely to be--indeed has nearly always been--undervalued.Even the jejune and partial analysis which has been given must haveshown how many of the elements of the modern novel are here--sometimes,as it were, "in solution," sometimes actually crystallised. For any onewho demands plot there is one--of such gigantic dimensions, indeed, thatit is not easy to grasp it, but seen to be singularly well articulatedand put together when it is once grasped. Huge as it is, it is not inthe least formless, and, as has been several times pointed out, hardlythe most (as it may at first appear) wanton and unpardonable episode,digression, or inset lacks its due connection with and "orientation"towards the end. The contrast of this with the more or less formlesschronicle-fashion, the "overthwart and endlong" conduct, of almost allthe romances from the Carlovingian and Arthurian[193] to the _Amadis_type, is of the most unmistakable kind.

  Again, though character, as has been admitted, in any real live sense,is terribly wanting still; though description is a little general andwants more "streaks in the tulip"; and though conversation is formal andstilted, there is evident, perhaps even in the first, certainly in thesecond and third cases, an effort to treat them at any ratesystematically, in accordance with some principles of art, and perhapseven not without some eye to the actual habits, manners, demands of thetime--things which again were quite new in prose fiction, and, in fact,could hardly be said to be anywhere present in literature outside ofdrama.

  To set against these not so very small merits in the present, and veryconsiderable seeds of promise for the future, there are, of course,serious faults or defects--defaults which need, however, lessinsistence, because they are much more generally known, much moreobvious, and have been already admitted. The charge of excessive lengthneed hardly be dealt with at all. It has already been said that the mostinteresting point about it is the opportunity of discovering how it was,in part, a regular, and, in fact, almost the furthest possible,development of a characteristic which had been more or less observablethroughout the progress of romance. But it may be added that the law ofsupply and demand helped; for people evidently were not in the leastbored by bulk, and that the fancy for having a book "on hand" has onlylately, if it has actually, died out.[194] Now such a "book on hand" asthe _Grand Cyrus_ exists, as far as my knowledge goes, in no Westernliterature, unless you count collections of letters, which is not fair,or such memoirs as Saint-Simon's, which do not appeal to quite the sameclass of readers.


  A far more serious default or defect--not exactly blameworthy, _because_the time was not yet, but certainly to be taken account of--is thealmost utter want of character just referred to. From Cyrus and Mandanedownwards the people have qualities; but qualities, though they arenecessary to character, do not constitute it. Very faint approaches maybe discerned, by very benevolent criticism, in such a personage asMartesie with her shrewdness, her maid-of-honour familiarity with theways and manners of courtly human beings, and that very pardonable,indeed agreeable, tendency, which has been noticed or imagined, to flirtin respectful fashion with Cyrus, while carrying on more regularbusiness with Feraulas. But it is little more than a suggestion, and ithas been frankly admitted that it is perhaps not even that, but animagination merely. And the same observation may apply to her "secondstring," Doralise. No others of the women have any character at all, andwe have already spoken of the men.

  Now these things, in a book very widely read and immensely admired,could not, and did not, fail to have their effect. Nobody--we shall seethis more in detail in the next chapter--can fail to perceive that the_Princesse de Cleves_ itself is, from one point of view, only a_histoire_ of the _Grand Cyrus_, taken out of its preposterous _matrix_of other matter, polished, charged with a great addition of internalfire of character and passion, and left to take its chance alone andunencumbered. Nobody, on the other hand, who knows Richardson andMademoiselle de Scudery can doubt the influence of the French book--acentury old as it was--on the "father of the English novel." Now anyinfluence exerted on these two was, beyond controversy, an influenceexerted on the whole future course of the kind, and it is as exercisingsuch an influence that we have given to the _Great Cyrus_ so great aspace.

  * * * * *

  [Sidenote: The other Scudery romances--_Ibrahim_.]

  After the exhaustive account given of _Artamene_, it is probably notnecessary to apologise for dealing with the rest of Mlle. de Scudery'snovel work, and with that of her comrades in the Heroic romance, at novery great length. _Ibrahim ou L'Illustre Bassa_ has sometimes beencomplimented as showing more endeavour, if not exactly at "localcolour," at technical accuracy, than the rest. It is true that theFrench were, at this time, rather amusingly proud of being the onlyWestern nation treated on something like equal terms by the SublimePorte, and that the Scuderys (possibly Georges, whose work theDedication to Mlle. de Rohan, daughter of the famous soldier, prettycertainly is) may have taken some pains to acquire knowledge. "Sandjak"(or "Sanjiac"), not for a district but for its governor, is a littleunlucky perhaps; but "Aderbion" is much nearer "Azerbaijan" than onegenerally expects in such cases from French writers of the seventeenthor even of other centuries. The Oriental character of the story,however, is but partial. The Illustrious Pasha himself, though FirstVizir and "victorious" general of Soliman the Second, is not a Turk atall, but a "Justinian" or Giustiniani of Genoa, whose beloved Isabelleis a Princess of Monaco, and who at the end, after necessarydangers,[195] retires with her to that Principality, with a punctiliousexplanation from the author about the Grimaldis. The scene is partlythere and at Genoa--the best Genoese families, including the Dorias,appearing--partly at Constantinople: and the business at the latterplace is largely concerned with the intrigues, jealousies, and crueltiesof Roxelane, who is drawn much more (one regrets to say) as historypaints her than as the agreeable creature of Marmontel's subsequentfancy. The book is a mere cockboat beside the mighty argosy of the_Cyrus_, running only to four volumes and some two thousand pages. Butthough smaller, it is much "stodgier." The _Histoires_ break out at oncewith the story of a certain Alibech--much more proper for the youngperson than that connected with the same name by Boccaccio,--and thosewho have acquired some knowledge of Mlle. Madeleine's ways will knowwhat it means when, adopting the improper but defensible practice of"looking at the end," they find that not merely "Justinian" andIsabelle, but a Horace and a Hypolite, a Doria and a Sophronie, anAlphonse and a Leonide are all married on the same day, while a "FrenchMarquis" and an Emilie vow inviolable but celibate constancy to eachother; they will know, that is to say, that in the course of the bookall these will have been duly "historiated." To encourage them, a singlehint that Leonide sometimes plays a little of the parts of Martesie andDoralise in the _Cyrus_ may be thrown in.

  There is, however, one sentence in the second volume of _Ibrahim_ whichis worth quotation and brief comment, because it is a text for the wholemanagement and system of these novels, and accounts for much in theirsuccessors almost to the present day. Emilie is telling the _Histoire_of Isabelle, and excuses herself for not beginning at the beginning:"Puisque je sais que vous n'ignorez pas l'amour du Prince de Masseran,les violences et les artifices de Julie, la trahison de Feliciane, legenereux ressentiment de Doria [this is another Doria], la mort de cetamant infortune, et ensuite celle de Julie." In other words, all thesethings have been the subject of previous histories or of the main text.And so it is always. Diderot admired, or at least excused, thatprocedure of Richardson's which involved the telling of the conversationof an average dinner-party in something like a small volume. But the"Heroic" method would have made it necessary to tell the previousexperiences of the lady you took down to dinner, and the man that youtalked to afterwards, while, if extended from aristocratic to democraticideas, it would have justified a few remarks on the cabmen who broughtboth, and the butcher and fishmonger who supplied the feast. Theinconvenience of this earlier practice made itself felt, and by degreesit dropped off; but it was succeeded by a somewhat similar habit ofgiving the subsequent history of personages introduced--a thing which,though Scott satirised it in Mrs. Martha Buskbody's insistence oninformation about the later history of Guse Gibbie,[196] by no meansceased with his time. Both were, in fact, part of the general refusal toaccept the conditions of ordinary life. If "tout _passe_" is anexaggeration, it is an exaggeration of the truth: and in fiction, as infact, the minor shapes must dissolve as well as arise without too muchfuss being made about them.[197]

  [Sidenote: _Almahide._]

  _Almahide_ is, I think, more readable than _Ibrahim_; but the _English_reader must disabuse himself of the idea (if he entertains it) that hewill find much of the original of _The Conquest of Granada_. The bookdoes, indeed, open like the play, with the faction-fights ofAbencerrages and Zegrys, and it ends with Boabdelin's jealousy of hiswife Almahide, while a few of the other names in both are identical. But_Almahide_ contains nothing, or hardly anything, of the character ofAlmanzor, and Dryden has not attempted to touch a hundredth part of thecopious matter of the French novel, the early history of Almahide, theusual immense digressions and side-_histoires_, the descriptions (which,as in _Ibrahim_, play, I think, a larger relative part than in the_Cyrus_), and what not.

  [Sidenote: _Clelie._]

  [Sidenote: Perhaps the liveliest of the set.]

  Copious as these are, however, in both books, they do not fill them outto anything like the length of the _Cyrus_ itself, or of its rival insize, and perhaps superior in attraction, the _Clelie_. I do not pleadguilty to inconsistency or change of opinion in this "perhaps" when itis compared with the very much larger space given to the earlier novel._Le Grand Cyrus_ has been estated too firmly, as the type andrepresentative of the whole class, to be dislodged, and there is, as weshall see presently, a good deal of repetition from it in _Clelie_itself. But this latter is the more amusing book of the two; it is,though equally or nearly as big, less labyrinthine; there is somewhatlivelier movement in it, and at the same time this is contrasted with aset or series of interludes of love-casuistry, which are better, Ithink, than anything of the kind in the _Cyrus_.[198] The most famousfeature of these is, of course, the well-known but constantly misnamed"Carte de Tendre" ("Map of the Country of Tenderness"--not of"Tenderness in the _aib_stract," as _du_ Tendre would be). Thediscussion of what constitutes Tenderness comes quite early; there islater a notable discourse on the respective attractions of Love and ofGlory or Ambition; a sort of Code and Anti-code of lovers[199] occu
rs as"The Love-Morality of Tiramus," with a set of (not always) contrarycriticism thereof; and a debate of an almost mediaeval kind as to therespective merits of merry and melancholy mistresses. Moreover, there isa rather remarkable "Vision of Poets"--past, present, and to come--whichshould be taken in connection with the appearance, as an actualpersonage, of Anacreon. All this, taken in conjunction with the"business" of the story, helps to give it the superior liveliness withwhich it has, rightly or wrongly, been credited here.

  [Sidenote: Rough outline of it.]

  Of that business itself a complete account cannot, for reasons givenmore than once, be attempted; though anybody who wants such a thing,without going to the book itself, may find it in the places also abovementioned. There is no such trick played upon the educated but notwideawake person as (_v. inf._) in La Calprenede's chief books. Clelieis the real Clelia, if the modern historical student will pass "real"without sniffing, or even if he will not. Her lover, "Aronce," althoughhe probably may be a little disguised from the English reader by hisspelling, is so palpably the again real "Aruns," son of Porsena, thatone rather wonders how his identity can have been so long concealed inFrench (where the pronunciations would be practically the same) from thereaders of the story. The book begins with a proceeding not quite solike that of the _Cyrus_ as some to be mentioned later, but still prettyclose to the elder overture. "The illustrious Aronce and the adorableClelia" are actually going to be married, when there is a fearful storm,an earthquake, and a disappearance of the heroine. She has, of course,been carried off; one might say, without flippancy, of any heroine ofMadeleine de Scudery's not only that she was, as in a famous and alreadyquoted saying, "very liable to be carried off," but that it was not innature that she should not be carried off as early and as often aspossible. And her abductor is no less a person than Horatius--our ownHoratius Cocles--the one who kept the bridge in some of the best knownof English verses, not he who provoked, from the sister whom hemurdered, the greatest speech in all French tragedy before, and perhapsnot merely before, Victor Hugo. Horatius is the Philidaspes of _Clelie_,but, as he was bound to be, an infinitely better fellow and of a betterfate. Of course the end knits straight on to the beginning. Clelie andAronce are united without an earthquake, and Porsena, with obliginggallantry, resigns the crown of Clusium (from which he has himself longbeen kept out by a "Mezentius," who will hardly work in with Virgil's),not to Aronce, but to Clelie herself. The enormous interval between (thebook is practically as long as the _Cyrus_) is occupied by the same, or(_v. sup._) nearly the same tissue of delays, digressions, and othermaze-like devices for setting you off on a new quest when you seem to bequite close to the goal. A large part of the scene is in Carthage,where, reversing the process in regard to Mezentius, Asdrubals andAmilcars make their appearance in a very "mixedly" historical fashion. APrince of Numidia (who had heard of Numidia in Tarquin's days?) fights alively water-combat with Horatius actually as he is carrying Clelie off,over the Lake of Thrasymene. All the stock legends of the Porsena siegeand others are duly brought in: and the atrocious Sextus, not contentedwith his sin against Lucrece, tries to carry off Clelie likewise, but isfortunately or wisely prevented. Otherwise the invariable proprietywhich from the time of the small love-novels (_v. sup._ pp. 157-162) haddistinguished these abductions might possibly have been broken through.These outlines might be expanded (and the process would not be verypainful to me) into an abstract quite as long as that of Cyrus; but "ItCannot Be."

  One objection, foreshadowed, and perhaps a little more, already, must beallowed against _Clelie_. That tendency to resort to repetition ofsituations and movements--which has shown itself so often, and whichpractically distinguishes the very great novelists from those not sogreat by its absence or presence--is obvious here, though the huge sizeof the book may conceal it from mere dippers, unless they be experts.The similarity of the openings is, comparatively speaking, a usualthing. It should not happen, and does not in really great writers; butit is tempting, and is to some extent excused by the brocard about _lepremier pas_. It is so nice to put yourself in front of yourbeginning--to have made sure of it! But this charity will hardly extendto such a thing as the repetition of Cyrus's foolish promise to fightPhilidaspes before he marries Mandane in the case of Aronce, Horatius,and Clelie. The way in which Aronce is kept an "unknown" for some time,and that in which his actual relationship to Porsena is treated, havealso too much of the _replica_; and though a lively skirmish with apirate which occurs is not quite so absurd as that ready-made series ofencores which was described above (pp. 181-2), there is something alittle like it in the way in which the hero and his men alternatelyreduce the enemy to extremity, and run over the deck to rescue friendswho are in the pirates' power from being butchered or flung overboard."Sapho's" invention, though by no means sterile, was evidently somewhatindiscriminate, and she would seem to have thought it rather a pity thata good thing should be used only once.

  Nevertheless the compliment given above may be repeated. If I were sentto twelve months' imprisonment of a mild description, and allowed tochoose a library, I should include in it, from the heroic or semi-heroicdivision, _Clelie_, La Calprenede's two chief books, Gomberville's_Polexandre_, and Gombauld's _Endimion_ (this partly for the pictures),with, as a matter of course, the _Astree_, and a choice of one other. Byreading slowly and "savouring" the process, I should imagine that, withone's memories of other things, they might be able to last for a year.And it would be one of the best kind of fallows for the brain. Inanticipation, let us see something of these others now.

  [Sidenote: La Calprenede: his comparative cheerfulness.]

  It has seemed, as was said, desirable to follow the common opinion ofliterary history in giving Madeleine de Scudery the place of honour, andthe largest as well as the foremost share in our account of thiscurious stage in the history of the novel. But if, to alter slightly afamous quotation, I might "give a short hint to an impartial _reader_,"I should very strongly advise him to begin his studies (or at least hisenjoyment) thereof, not with "Sapho," but with Gauthier de Costes,Seigneur de la Calprenede, himself according to Tallemant almost theproverbial "Gascon _et demi_"; a tragic dramatist, as well as a romanticwriter; a favourite of Mme. de Sevigne, who seldom went wrong in herpreferences, except when she preferred her very disagreeable daughter toher very agreeable son; and more than any one else the inventor, or atleast perfecter, of the hectoring heroic style which we associate withDryden's plays. Indeed the Artaban of _Cleopatre_ is much more theoriginal of Almanzor and Drawcansir than anything in Madeleine, though_Almahide_ was actually the source of Dryden's story, or heroine.Besides this, though La Calprenede has rather less of theintricate-impeach character than his she-rival, there is much morebustle and "go" in him; he has, though his books are proper enough, muchless fear of dealing with "the kissing and that sort of thing," as itwas once discreetly put; and he is sometimes positively exciting in hisimbroglios, as when the beautiful Amazon princess Menalippe fights areal duel on horseback with Prince, afterwards King, Alcamenes ofScythia, under the impression that he has killed a certain Alcimedon,who was her lover; discovers, after no small time and considerabledamage, that he is Alcimedon himself; and, like a sensible and agreeablegirl, embraces him heartily in the sight of men and angels.

  [Sidenote: _Cleopatre_--the Cypassis and Arminius episode.]

  This is among the numerous _divertissements_ of _Cleopatre_ (not theearliest, but perhaps the chief of its author's novels[200]), theheroine of which is not

  The laughing queen that caught the world's great hands

  herself, but her daughter by Antony, who historically married Juba ofMauretania, and is here courted by him under the name of Coriolanus,while he is in disgrace with Augustus. La Calprenede (all theseromancers are merciful men and women to the historically unlucky, andcruel only, or for the most part, to fictitious characters) saves herhalf-brother Caesarion from his actual death, and, after the duethousands of pages, unites him happily to Queen Candace of AEthiopia.Ther
e is the same odd muddle (which made a not unintelligent Jesuitlabel this class of books "historia _mixta_") with many other persons.Perhaps the most curious of all episodes of this kind is the use made ofOvid's "fusca Cypassis." If Mrs. Grundy could be supposed ever to haveread the _Amores_, the mere sight of the name of that dusky handmaid--towhom Ovid behaved, by his own confession, in such an exceedingly shabbyas well as improper fashion--would make her shudder, if not shriek. ButLa Calprenede's Cypassis, though actually a maid of honour to Julia, asher original was a handmaid to Corinna, is of unblemished morality,flirted with certainly by Ovid, but really a German princess, Ismenia,in disguise, and beloved by, betrothed to, and in the end united with noless a compatriot than Arminius. This union gives also an illustrationof the ingenious fashion in which these writers reconcile and yet omit.La Calprenede, as we have seen, does not give Arminius's wife her usualname of Thusnelda, but, to obviate a complaint from readers who haveheard of Varus, he invents a protest on "Herman sla lerman" part againstthat general, who has trepanned him into captivity and gladiatorship,and makes him warn Augustus that he will be true to the Romans _unless_Varus is sent into his country.[201]

  [Sidenote: The book generally.]

  This episode is, in many ways, so curious and characteristic, that itseemed worth while to dwell on it for a little; but the account itselfmust have shown how impossible it is to repeat the process of generalabstract. There are, I think, in the book (which took twelve years topublish and fills as many volumes in French, while the Englishtranslation is an immense folio of nearly a thousand pages in doublecolumn, also entitled _Hymen's Praeludia_[202]) fewer separate_Histoires_, though there are a good many, than in the _Cyrus_, but theintertwined love-plots are almost more complicated. For instance, theHerod-and-Mariamne tragedy is brought in with a strictly "proper" lover,Tiridates, whom Salome uses to provoke Herod's patience, and who has, atthe very opening of the book, proved himself both a natural philosopherof no mean order by seeing a fire at sea, and "judging with muchlikelihood that it comes from a ship," and a brave fellow by rescuingfrom the billows no less a person than the above-mentioned QueenCandace. From her, however, he exacts immediate, and, as some modernsmight think, excessive, payment by making her listen to his own_Histoire_.

  Not the least attractive part of _Cleopatre_ to some people will be thatvery "Phebus," or amatory conceit, which made the next ages scorn it.When one of the numerous "unknowns" of both sexes (in this case a girl)is discovered (rather prettily) lying on a river bank and playing withthe surface of the water, "the earth which sustained this fair bodyseemed to produce new grass to receive her more agreeably"--a phrasewhich would have shocked good Bishop Vida many years before, as much asit would have provoked the greater scorn of Mr. Addison about as manyafter. There are many "ecphrases" or set descriptions of this kind, andthey show a good deal of stock convention. For instance, the wind isalways "most discreetly, most discreetly" ready, as indeed it was inMlle. de Scudery's own chaste stories, to blow up sleeves or skirts alittle, and achieve the distraction of the beholders by what it reveals.But on the whole, as was hinted above, Gauthier de Costes de LaCalprenede is the most natural creature of the heroic band.

  [Sidenote: _Cassandre._]

  His earlier _Cassandre_ is not much inferior to _Cleopatre_, and has alittle more eccentricity about it. The author begins his Second Part bymaking the ghost of Cassandra herself (who is not the Trojan Cassandraat all) address a certain Calista, whom she mildly accuses of "draggingher from her grave two thousand years after date," adding, as a boast ofhis own in a Preface, that the very name "Cassandre" has never occurredin the _First_ Part--a huge cantle of the work. The fact is that it isan _alias_ for Statira, the daughter of Darius and wife of Alexander,and is kept by her during the whole of her later married life with herlover Oroondates, King of Scythia, who has vainly wooed her in earlydays before her union with the great Emathian conqueror. Here, again,the mere student of "unmixed" history may start up and say, "Why! thisStatira, who was also called Barsine [an independent personage here] wasmurdered by Roxana after Alexander's death!" But, as was also said,these romancers exercise the privilege of mercy freely; and though LaCalprenede's Roxana is naughty enough for anything (she makes, ofcourse, the most shameless love to Oroondates), she is not allowed tokill her rival, who is made happy, after another series of endlessadventures of her own, her lover's, and other people's. The book openswith a lively interest to students of the English novel; for the famoustwo cavaliers of G. P. R. James appear, though they are not actuallyriding at the moment, but have been, and, after resting, see two othersin mortal combat. Throughout there is any amount of good fighting, as,for the matter of that, there is in _Cleopatre_ also; and there is lessduplication of detail here than in some other respects, for LaCalprenede is rather apt to repeat his characters and situations. Forinstance, the fight between Lysimachus and Thalestris (La Calprenede isfond of Amazons), though _not_ in the details, is of course in the ideaa replica of that between Alcamenes and Menalippe in _Cleopatre_; andnames recur freely. Moreover, in the less famous story, the wholesituation of hero and heroine is exactly duplicated in respect of theabove-mentioned Lysimachus and Parisatis, Cassandra's younger sister,who is made to marry Hephaestion at first, and only awarded, in the samefashion as her elder sister, at last to her true lover.

  By the way, the already-mentioned "harmonising" is in few places moreoddly shown than by the remark that Plutarch's error in representingStatira as killed was due to the fact that he did not recognise herunder her later name of Cassandra--a piece of Gascon half-naivete,half-jest which Mlle. de Scudery's Norman shrewdness[203] would hardlyhave allowed. There is also much more of the supernatural in these booksthan in hers, and the characters are much less prim. Roxana, who, ofcourse, is meant to be naughty, actually sends a bracelet of her hair toOroondates! which, however, that faithful lover of another instantlyreturns.

  [Sidenote: _Faramond._]

  La Calprenede's third novel, _Faramond_, is unfinished as his work, andthe continuation seems to have more than one claimant to its authorship.If the "eminent hand" was one Vaumoriere, who independently accomplisheda minor "heroic" in _Le Grand Scipion_, he was not likely to infuse muchfire into the ashes of his predecessor. As it stands in La Calprenede'sown part, _Faramond_ is a much duller book than _Cassandre_ or_Cleopatre_. It must, of course, be remembered that, though patriotismhas again and again prompted the French to attack these mistyMerovingian times (the _Astree_ itself deals with them in the liberalfashion in which it deals with everything), the result has rarely, ifever, been a success. Indeed I can hardly think of any one--except ourown "Twin Brethren" in _Thierry and Theodoret_--who has made anythinggood out of French history before Charlemagne.[204] The reader,therefore, unless he be a very thorough and conscientious student, hadbetter let _Faramond_ alone; but its elder sisters are much pleasantercompany. Indeed the impolite thought will occur that it is much morelike the Scudery novels, part of which it succeeded, and may possiblyhave been the result--not by any means the only one in literature--of anunlucky attempt to beat a rival by copying him or her.

  [Sidenote: Gomberville--_La Caritee_.]

  If any one, seeking acquaintance with the works of Marin le Roy,Seigneur de Gomberville, begins at the beginning with his earliest work,and one of the earliest of the whole class, _La Caritee_ (not"Carit_ie_," as in some reference books), he may not be greatlyappetised by the addition to the title, "contenant, sous des temps, despersonnes, et des noms supposes, plusieurs rares et veritables histoiresde notre temps." For this is a proclamation, as Urfe had _not_proclaimed it,[205] of the wearisome "key" system, which, thoughundoubtedly it has had its partisans at all times, is loathsome as wellas wearisome to true lovers of true literature. To such persons everylovable heroine of romance is, more or less, suggestive of more or fewerwomen of history, other romance, or experience; every hero, more orless, though to a smaller extent, recognisable or realisable in the sameway; and every event, one in which such readers have
been, might havebeen, or would have liked to be engaged themselves; but they do not carethe scrape of a match whether the author originally intended her for thePrincess of Kennaquhair or for Polly Jones, him and it for correspondingrealities. Nor is the sequel particularly ravishing, though it isdedicated to "all fair and virtuous shepherdesses, all generous andperfect shepherds." Perhaps it is because one is not a generous andperfect shepherd that one finds the "Great Pan is Dead" story lessimpressive in Gomberville's prose than in Milton's verse at no distantperiod; is not much refreshed by getting to Rome about the death ofGermanicus, and hearing a great deal about his life; or later still byEgyptian _bergeries_--things in which somehow one does not see aconcatenation accordingly; and is not consoled by having the Phoenixbusiness done--oh! so differently from the fashion of Shakespeare oreven of Darley. And when it finishes with a solemn function for the riseof the Nile, the least exclusively modern of readers may prefer Moore orGautier.

  [Sidenote: _Polexandre._]

  But if any one, deeming not unjustly that he had drunk enough of_Caritee_, were to conclude that he would drink no more of any of thewaters of Gomberville, he would make a mistake. _Cytheree_[1] I cannotyet myself judge of, except at second-hand; but the first part of_Polexandre_, if not also the continuation, _Le Jeune Alcidiane_,[206]may be very well spoken of. It, that is to say the first part of it, wastranslated into English by no less a person than William Browne, just atthe close of his life; and, perhaps for this reason, the British Museumdoes not contain the French original; but those who cannot attain tothis lose the less, because the substance of the book is the principalthing. This makes it one of the liveliest of the whole group, and onedoes not feel it an idle vaunt when at the end the author observescheerfully of his at last united hero and heroine, "Since we have solong enjoyed _them_, let us have so much justice as to think it fittingnow that _they_ should likewise enjoy each other." Yet the unresting andunerring spirit of criticism may observe that even here the verbositywhich is the fault of the whole division makes its appearance. For whynot suppress most of the words after "them," and merely add, "let themnow enjoy each other"?

  The book is, in fact, rather like a modernised "number" of the _Amadis_series,[207], and the author has had the will and the audacity toexchange the stale old Greeks and Romans--not the real Greeks, who cannever be stale, or the real Romans, who can stand a good deal ofstaling, but the conventional classics--as well as the impossibleshadows of the Dark Ages, for Lepanto and the Western Main, Turks andSpaniards and Mexicans, and a Prince of Scotland. Here also we find inthe hero something more like Almanzor than Artamene, if not thanArtaban: and of the whole one may say vulgarly that "the pot boils."Now, with the usual Heroic it too often fails to attain even a gentlesimmer.

  [Sidenote: Camus--_Palombe_, etc.]

  Jean Camus [de Pontcarre?],[208] Bishop of Belley and of Arras--friendof St. Francis of Sales and of Honore d'Urfe; author of many "Christian"romances to counteract the bad effects of the others, of a famous_Esprit de Saint Francois de S._, and of a very great number ofmiscellaneous works,--seems to have been a rather remarkable person,and, with less power and more eccentricity, a sort of Fenelon of thefirst half of the century. His best known novel, _Palombe_, standspractically alone in its group as having had the honour of a modernreprint in the middle of the nineteenth century.[209] The title-giver isa female, not a male, human dove, and of course a married one. Camus wasa divine of views which one does not call "liberal," because the wordhas been almost more sullied by ignoble use in this connection than inany other--but unconventional and independent; and he provoked greatwrath among his brethren by reflecting on the abuses of the conventualsystem. _Palombe_ appears to be not uninteresting, but after all it isbut one of those parasitic exercises which have rarely been great exceptin the hands of very great genius. Historically, perhaps, the much lessfamous _Evenemens Singuliers_ (2 vols., 1628) are more important, thoughthey cannot be said to be very amusing. For (to the surprise, perhaps,of a reader who comes to the book without knowing anything about it) itis composed of pure Marmontel-and-Miss-Edgeworth Moral Tales about_L'Ami Desloyal_, _La Prudente Mere_, _L'Amour et la Mort_,_L'Imprecation Maternelle_, and the like. Of course, as one would expectfrom the time, and the profession of the author, the meal of themorality is a little above the malt of the tale; but the very titles are"germinal."

  * * * * *

  [Sidenote: Hedelin d'Aubignac--_Macarise._]

  Francois Hedelin, Abbe d'Aubignac, is one of those unfortunate butrarely quite guiltless persons who live in literary history much more bythe fact of their having attacked or lectured greater men thanthemselves, and by witticisms directed against them, than by their ownactual work, which is sometimes not wholly contemptible. He concerns ushere only as the author of a philosophical-heroic romance, ratheragreeably entitled _Macarise ou La Reine des Iles Fortunees_, where thebland naivete of the pedantry would almost disarm the present members ofthat Critical Regiment, of which the Abbe, in his turn, was not so mucha chaplain as a most combatant officer. The very title goes on toneutralise its attractiveness by explaining--with that benignantcondescension which is natural to at least some of its author'sclass--that it "contains the Moral Philosophy of the Stoics under theveil of several agreeable adventures in the form of a Romance"; and thatwe may not forget this, various side-notes refer to passages in an_Abrege_ of that philosophy. The net is thus quite frankly set in thesight of the bird, and if he chooses to walk into it, he has onlyhimself to blame. The opening is a fine example of that plunge into themiddle of things which Hedelin had learnt from his classical masters tothink proper: "Les cruels persecuteurs d'Arianax l'ayant reduit a lanecessite de se precipiter[210] dans les eaux de la Sennatele avec sonfrere Dinazel...." The fact that the presupposed gentle reader knowsnothing of the persons or the places mentioned is supposed to arouse inhim an inextinguishable desire to find out. That he should be at oncegratified is, of course, unthinkable. In fact his attention will soonbe diverted from Arianax and Dinazel and the banks of the Sennatelealtogether by the very tragical adventures of a certain Clearte. He,with a company of friends, visits the country of a tyrant, who isaccustomed to welcome strangers and heap them with benefits, till a timecomes (the allegory is something obvious) when he demands it all back,with their lives, through a cruel minister (again something "speakingly"named) "Thanate." The head of this company, Clearte, on receiving thesentence, talks Stoicism for many pages, and when he is exhausted,somebody else takes up the running in such a fascinating manner that it"seemed as if he had only to go on talking to make the victimsimmortal!" But the atrocious Thanate cuts, at the same moment, thethread of the discourse and the throat of Clearte--who is, however,transported to the dominions of Macarise,--and _histoires_ and"ecphrases" and interspersions of verse follow as usual. But the Abbe isnowise infirm of purpose; and the book ends with the strangest mixtureof love-letters and not very short discourses on the various schools ofphilosophy, together with a Glossary or Onomasticon interpreting theproper names which have been used after the following fashion:"Alcarinte. _La Crainte_, du mot francais par anagramme sans aucunchangement," though how you can have an anagram without a change is notexplained.

  [Sidenote: Gombauld--_Endimion._]

  Perhaps one may class, if, indeed, classification is necessary, with thereligious romances of Camus and the philosophical romance of Hedelind'Aubignac, the earlier allegorical ones of the poet Gombauld,_Endimion_ and _Amaranthe_. The latter I have not yet seen. _Endimion_is rather interesting; there was an early English translation of it; andI have always been of those who believe that Keats, somehow or other,was more directly acquainted with seventeenth-century literature thanhas generally been allowed.[211] The wanderings of the hero are asdifferent as possible in detail; but the fact that there _are_wanderings at all is remarkable, and there are other coincidences withKeats and differences from any classical form, which it might be out ofplace to dwell on here. Endymion is waked from his Latmian s
leep by theinfernal clatter of the dwellers at the base of the mountain, who useall the loudest instruments they possess to dispel an eclipse of themoon: and is discovered by his friend Pyzandre, to whom he tells thevicissitudes of his love and sleep. The early revealings of herself byDiana are told with considerable grace, and the whole, which is not toolong, is readable. But there are many of the _naivetes_ andawkwardnesses of expression which attracted to the writers of this timethe scorn of Boileau and others down to La Harpe. The Dedication to theQueen may perhaps be excused for asserting, in its first words, that asEndymion was put to sleep by the Moon, so he has been reawakened by theSun,[212] _i.e._ her Majesty. But a Nemesis of this Phebus follows. For,later, it is laid down that "La Lune doit _toujours_ sa lumiere auSoleil." From which it will follow that Diana owed her splendour to Anneof Austria, or was it Marie de Medicis?[213] It was fortunate forGombauld that he did not live under the older dispensation. Artemis wasnot a forgiving goddess like Aphrodite.

  Again, when Diana has disappeared after one of her graciousnesses, herlover makes the following reflection--that the gods apparently candepart _sans etre en peine de porter necessairement les pieds l'undevant l'autre_--an observation proper enough in burlesque, for the ideaof a divine goose-step or marking time, instead of the _incessus_, isludicrous enough. But there is not the slightest sign of humour anywherein the book. Yet, again, this is a thing one would rather not have said,"Diane cessant de m'etre favorable, Ismene[214] _me pouvait tenir lieude Deesse_." Now it is sadly true that the human race does occasionallyentertain, and act upon, reflections of this kind: and persons like Mr.Thomas Moore and Gombauld's own younger contemporary, Sir John Suckling,have put the idea into light and lively verse. But you do not expect itin a serious romance.

  Nevertheless it may be repeated that _Endimion_ is one of the mostreadable of the two classes of books--the smaller sentimental and thelonger heroic--between which it stands in scope and character. Theauthor's practice in the "other harmony" makes the obligatoryverse-insertions rather less clumsy than usual; and it may be permittedto add that the illustrations of the original edition, which areunusually numerous and elaborate, are also rather unusually effective."Peggy's face" is too often as "wretched" as Thackeray confessed his ownattempts were; but the compositions are not, as such, despicable--evenin the case of the immortal and immortalising kiss-scene itself. The"delicious event," to quote the same author in another passage, is notactually coming off--but it is very near. But it was perhaps a pity thateither Gombauld or Keats ever _waked_ Endymion.

  [Sidenote: Mme. de Villedieu.]

  The most recent book[215] but one about Mme. de Villedieu contains (and,oddly enough, confesses itself to contain) very little about her novels,which the plain man might have thought the only reason for writing abouther at all. It tells (partly after Tallemant) the little that is knownabout her (adding a great deal more about other people, things, andplaces, and a vast amount of conjecture), and not only takes the verydubious "letters" published by herself for gospel, but attributes toher, on the slightest evidence, if any, the anonymous _Memoires sur laVie de Henriette Sylvie de Moliere_, and, what is more, accepts them asautobiographic; quotes a good deal of her very valueless verse and thatof others, and relates the whole in a most marvellous style, thesmallest and most modest effervescences of which are things like this:"La religion arrose son ame d'une eau parfumee, et les fleurs noirs durepentir eclosent" or "Soixante ans pesaient sur son crane ennuage d'uneperruque."[216] A good bibliography of the actual work, and not a littleuseful information about books and MS. relating to the period, mayreconcile one class of readers to it, and a great deal of scandalanother; but as far as the subject of this history goes no one will bemuch wiser when he closes the volume than he was when he opened it.

  The novelist-heroine's actual name was Marie Catherine Hortense desJardins, and she never was really Mme. de Villedieu at all, though therewas a real M. de Villedieu whom she loved, went through a marriageceremony and lived with, left, according to some, or was left by,according to others. But he was already married, and this marriage wasnever dissolved. Very late in life she seems actually to have married aMarquis de Chaste, who died soon. But most of the time was spent inrather scandalous adventures, wherein Fouquet's friend Gourville, theminister Lyonne, and others figure. In fact she seems to have been acounterpart as well as a contemporary of our own Afra, though she nevercame near Mrs. Behn in poetry or perhaps in fiction. Her first novel,_Alcidamie_, not to be confounded with the earlier _Alcidiane_, was ascarcely concealed utilising of the famous scandal about Tancrede deRohan (Mlle. des Jardins' mother had been a dependant on the Rohanfamily, and she herself was much befriended by that formidable andsombre-fated enchantress, Mme. de Montbazon). In fact, common as is thereal or imputed "key"-interest in these romances from the _Astree_onwards, none seems to have borrowed more from at least gossip thanthis. Her later performances, _Les Annales Galantes de la Grece_ (saidto be very rare), _Carmente_, _Les Amours des Grands Hommes_, _LesDesordres de l'Amour_, and some smaller pieces, all rely more or lesson this or that kind of scandal. Collections appeared three or fourtimes in the earlier eighteenth century.

  [Sidenote: _Le Grand Alcandre Frustre._]

  Since M. Magne wrote (and it is fair to say that the main purpose of hisbook was frankly avowed by its appearance as a member of a seriesentitled _Femmes Galantes_), a somewhat more sober account, definitelydevoted in part to the novels, has appeared.[217] But even this is notexhaustive from our point of view. The collected editions (of which thatof 1702, in 10 vols., said to be the best, is the one I have used) mustbe consulted if one really wishes to attain a fair knowledge of what"this questionable Hortense" (as Mr. Carlyle would probably have calledher) really did in literature; and no one, even of these, appears tocontain the whole of her ascribed compositions. What used sometimes tobe quoted as her principal work, _Le Grand Alcandre Frustre_ (the lastword being often omitted), is, in fact, a very small book, containing abit of scandal about the Grand Monarque, of the same kind as those whichmyriad anonyms of the time printed in Holland, and of which any one whowants them may find specimens enough in the _Bibliotheque Elzevirienne_edition of Bussy-Rabutin. Its chief--if not its only--attraction is anexceedingly quaint frontispiece--a cavalier and lady standing withjoined hands under a chandelier, the torches of which are held by a ringof seven Cupids, so that the lower one hangs downwards, and thedisengaged hand of the cavalier, which is raised, seems to be grabbingat him.

  [Sidenote: The collected love-stories.]

  Most of the rest, putting aside the doubtful _Henriette de Moliere_already referred to, are collections of love-stories, which theirtitles, rather than their contents, would seem to have represented tothe ordinary commentator as loose. There is really very littleimpropriety, except of the mildest kind, in any of them,[218] and theychiefly consist of the kind of quasi-historic anecdote (only bettertold) which is not uncommon in English, as, for instance, in Croxall's_Novelist_. They are rather well written, but for the most part consistof very "public" material, scarcely made "private" by any strikingmerit, and distinguished by curious liberties with history, if not withmorals.

  [Sidenote: Their historic liberties.]

  [Sidenote: _Carmente_, etc.]

  For instance, in one of her _Amours Galantes_ theElfrida-Ethelwold-Edgar story is told, not only with "_Edward I._ ofEngland" for the deceived and revengeful king, but with a further andmore startling intrusion of Eleanor of Guyenne! That of Inez de Castrois treated in a still more audacious manner. Also (with what previousexample I know not, but Hortense was exceedingly apt to have previousexamples) the names of the heretic to whom Dante was not merciful and ofhis beloved Margaret--names to which Charles Kingsley made the atonementof two of the most charming of his neglected poems--appear as "Dulcin"and "Marguerite," King and Queen of Lombardy, but guilty of moreoffensive lubricity than the sternest inquisitor ever charged on thehistorical Dolcino and his sect. For this King and Queen set up, in coldblood, two courts
of divorce, in one of which each is judge, with thedirect purpose of providing themselves with a supply of temporary wivesand husbands. Some have maintained that no less a thing than the_Princesse de Cleves_ itself was suggested by something of Mme. deVilledieu's; but this seems to me merely the usual plagiarism-hunter'sblunder of forgetting that the treatment, not the subject, is the _crux_of originality. Of her longer books, _Alcidamie_, the first, has beenspoken of. The _Amours des Grandes Hommes_ and _Cleonice ou le RomanGalant_ belong to the "keyed" Heroics; while the _Journal Amoureux_,which runs to nearly five hundred pages, has Diane de Poitiers for itschief heroine. Lastly, _Carmente_ (or, as it was reprinted, _Carmante_)is a sort of mixed pastoral, with Theocritus himself introduced, after afashion noted more than once before.

  [Sidenote: Her value on the whole.]

  Her most praised things, recently, have been the story of the loves ofHenri IV. and Mme. de Sauve (lightly touched on, perhaps "after" her inboth senses, by Dumas) in the _Amours Galantes_, and a doubtful story(also attributed to the obscure M. de Preschac of the _Cabinet desFees_[219]) entitled _L'Illustre Parisienne_, over which folk havequarrelled as to whether it is to be labelled "realist" or not. Oneregrets, however, to have to say that--except for fresh, if not verystrong, evidence of that "questing" character which we find all over thesubjects of these two chapters--the interest of Mme. de Villedieu's workcan hardly be called great. By a long chapter of accidents, the presentwriter, who had meant to read her some five-and-thirty years ago, neverread her actually till the other day--with all good will, with noextravagant expectation beforehand, but with some disappointment at theresult. She is not a bookmaker of the worst kind; she evidently had witsand literary velleities; and she does illustrate the blind _nisus_ ofthe time as already indicated. But beyond the bookmaking class shenever, I think, gets. Her mere writing is by no means contemptible, andwe may end by pointing out two little points of interest in _Carmente_.One is the appearance of the name "Ardelie," which our own LadyWinchelsea took and anglicised as her coterie title. It may occurelsewhere, but I do not recollect it. The other is yet a freshanticipation of that bold figure of speech which has been cited beforefrom Dickens--one of the characters appearing "in a very cleanshepherd's dress _and a profound melancholy_." Mme. de Villedieu (it isabout the only place she has held hitherto, if she has held any, inordinary Histories of French Literature) has usually been regarded asclosing the Heroic school. We may therefore most properly turn from herdirectly to the last and most cheerful division of the subjects of thischapter--the Fairy Tale.

  * * * * *

  [Sidenote: The fairy tale.]

  One of the greatest solaces of the writer of this book, and, he wouldfain hope, something of a consolation to its readers, has been thepossibility, and indeed advisability, of abstention from certain stockliterary controversies, or at worst of dismissing them with very briefmention. This solace recurs in reference to the large, vague, and hotlydebated subject of folklore and fairy stories, their connection, and theorigin of the latter. It is true that "the pleasure gives way to asavour of sorrow," to adopt a charming phrase of Mr. Dobson's, when Ithink of the amiable indignation which the absence of what I shall notsay, and perhaps still more the presence of some things that I shallsay, would have caused in my friend, and his friend, the late Mr. AndrewLang.[220] But the irreparable is always with us. Despite the undoubtedomnipresence of the folk-story, with its "fairy" character in thegeneral sense, I have always wanted more proof than I have everreceived, that the thing is of Western rather than of Eastern origin,and that our Western stories of the kind, in so far as they affectedliterature before a very recent period, are independent. But I attach noparticular value to this opinion, and it will influence nothing that Isay here. So with a few more half-words to the wise, as that Mme.d'Aulnoy had been in Spain, that the Crusades took place in the eleventhcentury, that, independently thereof, Scandinavians had been"Varangians" very early at Constantinople, etc. etc., let us come to thetwo great literary facts--the chorus of fairy tale-telling proper at theend of the century (of which the coryphaei are the lady alreadymentioned and Perrault), and the epoch-making translation of _TheArabian Nights_ by Galland.

  [Sidenote: Its _general_ characteristics--the happy ending.]

  In a certain sense, no doubt, the fairy tale may be said to be merely avariety of the age-old _fabliau_ and _nouvelle_. But it is, for literarypurposes, a distinctly and importantly new variety--new not merely insubject, even in the widest possible sense of that rather disputable(or at least disputed) word, but in that _nescio quid_ between subjectand treatment for which I know no better term than the somewhat vagueone "atmosphere." It has the priceless quality of what may be calledgood childishness; it gives not merely Fancy but Imagination the freestplay, and, till it has itself created one, it is free from anyconvention. It continued, indeed, always free from those "previous"conventions which are so intolerable. For it is constantly forgottenthat a convention in its youth is often positively healthy, and aconvention in the prime of its life a very tolerable thing. It is the_old_ conventions which, as Mahomet rashly acknowledged about somethingelse (saving himself, however, most dexterously afterwards), cannot betolerated in Paradise. Moreover, besides creating of necessity a sort offresh dialect in which it had to be told, and producing a set ofpersonages entirely unhackneyed, it did an immense service byintroducing a sort of etiquette, quite different from the conventionsabove noticed,--a set of manners, as it may almost be called, which hadthe strongest and most beneficial influence--though, like all strong andgood things, it might be perverted--on fiction generally. In this allsorts of nice things, as in the original prescription for what girls aremade of, were included--variety, gaiety, colour, surprise, a completecontempt of the contemptible, or of that large part of it which containspriggishness, propriety, "prunes, and prism" generally. Moreover (andhere I fear that the above promised abstinence from the contentious mustbe for a little time waived) it confirmed a great principle of novel andromance alike, that if you can you should "make a good end," as, _teste_Romance herself, Guinevere did, though the circumstances weremelancholy.

  The termination of a fairy tale rarely is, and never should be, anythingbut happy. For this reason I have always disliked--and though some ofthe mighty have left their calm seats and endeavoured to annihilate mefor it, I still continue to dislike--that old favourite of some part ofthe public, _The Yellow Dwarf_. That detestable creature (who does noteven amuse me) had no business to triumph; and, what is more, I don'tbelieve he did. Not being an original writer, I cannot tell the truehistory as it might be told; but I can criticise the false. I do notobject to this version because of its violation of poetical justice--inwhich, again, I don't believe. But this is neither poetical, nor just,nor amusing. It is a sort of police report, and I have never much caredfor police reports. I should like to have set Maimoune at the YellowDwarf: and then there would have been some fun.

  It is probably unnecessary to offer any translations here, because thematter is so generally known, and because the books edited by thatregretted friend of mine above mentioned have spread it (with much othermatter of the same kind) more widely than ever. But the points mentionedabove, and perhaps some others, can never be put too firmly to thecredit of the fairy tale as regards its influence on fiction, and onFrench fiction particularly. It remains to be seen, in the next chapter,how what a few purists may call its contamination by, but what we maysurely be permitted to call its alliance with, "polite literature" wasstarted, or practically started, through the direct agency of noFrenchman, but of a man who can be claimed by England in the larger andnational sense, by Scotland and Ireland and England again in thenarrower and more parochial--by Anthony Hamilton. His work, however,must be left till that next chapter, though in this we may, after the"blessed originals" just mentioned, take in their sometimes degeneratesuccessors for nearly a hundred years after Perrault's time.

  [Sidenote: Perrault and Mme. d'Aulnoy.]

&nbs
p; Well, however, as the simpler and purer fairy-tales may be known to allbut twentieth-century children (who are said not to like them), it isdoubtful whether many people have considered them in the light in whichwe have to regard them here, so as to see in them both a link in thesomewhat complicated chain of novel development, and also one which isnot dead metal, but serves as a medium for introducing powerful currentsof influence on the chain itself. We have dwelt on one point--thedesirableness, if not necessity, of shortness in them--as speciallyvaluable at the time. No doubt they need not all be as short asPerrault's, though even among his there are instances (not to mention_L'Adroite Princesse_ for the moment), such as _Peau d'Ane_, of morethan twenty pages, as against the five of the _Chaperon Rouge_ and theten of _Barbe Bleue_, _Le Chat Botte_, and _Cendrillon_. Mme. d'Aulnoy'srun longer; but of course the longest[221] of all are mites to themammoths of the Scudery romance. A fairy story must never "drag,"and in its better, and indeed all its genuine, forms it never does.Further (it must be remembered that "Little Red Riding Hood,"in its unadulterated and "_un_happy ending" form, is not a fairystory at all, for talking animals are not peculiar to that), "fairiness,"the actual presence of these gracious or ungracious but alwaysbetween-human-and-divine-creatures, is necessary,[222] and their agencymust be necessary too. In this and other ways it is interesting tocontrast two stories (which are neighbours to each other, with _Peaud'Ane_ between them, in the convenient one-volume collection of FrenchFairy Tale classics published by Gamier), Mme. d'Aulnoy's _Gracieuse etPercinet_ and _L'Adroite Princesse ou Les Aventures de Finette_, whichappeared with Perrault's, but which I can hardly believe to be his. Theyare about the same length, but the one is one of the best and the otherone of the worst examples of its author and of the general style. It maybe worth while to analyse both very briefly. As for Perrault's betterwork, such analysis should be as unnecessary as it would be irreverent.

  [Sidenote: Commented examples--_Gracieuse et Percinet_.]

  That _Gracieuse et Percinet_ is of an essentially "stock" character isnot in the least against it, for so it ought to be: and the "stock"company that plays its parts plays them well. The father is perhapsrather excessively foolish and unnatural, but then he almost had to be.The wicked and ugly stepmother tops, but does not overtop, _her_ part,and her punishment is not commonplace. Gracieuse herself deserves hername, not only "by her comely face and by her fair bodie," but by hergood but not oppressive wits, and her amiable but not faultlessdisposition. She ought not to have looked into the box; but then weshould not have liked her nearly as much if she had not done so. She wasfoolishly good in refusing to stay with Percinet; but we are by no meanscertain that we should like her better if she had thrown herself intohis arms at the first or second time of asking. Besides, where wouldhave been the story? As for Percinet, he escapes in a wonderful fashion,though partly by help of his lady's little wilfulnesses, the dangers ofthe handsome, amiable, in a small way always successful, and almostomnipotent hero. There is a sort of ironic tenderness, in his lettingGracieuse again and again go her wilful way and show her foolishfiliality, which saves him. He is always ready, and does his spiritingin the politest and best manner, particularly when he shepherds allthose amusing but rebellious little people into their box again--a featwhich some great novelists have achieved but awkwardly in their owncases. There is even pathos in the apparently melancholy statement thatthe fairy palace is dead, and that Gracieuse will never see it till sheis buried. I should like to have been Percinet, and I shouldparticularly like to have married Gracieuse.

  Moreover, the thing is full of small additional seasonings of incidentand phrase to the solid feast of fairy working which it provides.Gracieuse's "collation," with its more than twenty pots of differentjams, has a delightful realty (which is slightly different from reality)even for those to whom jam has never been the very highest of humandelights, because they prefer savouries to sweets. Even the abominableduchess seems to have had a splendid cellar, before she took to fillingthe casks with mere gold and jewels to catch the foolish king. It isimpossible to imagine a scene more agreeably compounded of politenessand affection than Percinet's first introduction of himself to thePrincess: and it is extraordinarily nice to find that they knew allabout each other before, though we have had not the slightest previousinformation as to the acquaintance. I am very much afraid that he madehis famous horse kick and plunge when Grognon was on him; but it must beremembered that he had been made to lead that animal against his will.The description of the hag's flogging Gracieuse with feathers instead ofscourges is a quite admirable adaptation of some martyrological stories;and when, in her dilapidated condition, she remarks that she wishes hewould go away, because she has always been told that she must not bealone with young gentlemen, one feels that the martyrdom must have beentransferred, in no mock sense, to Percinet himself. If she borrowsPsyche's trials, what good story is not another good storyrefreshed?[223]

  [Sidenote: _L'Adroite Princesse._]

  But if almost everything is good and well managed in _Gracieuse_, it mayalso be said that almost everything is badly managed in _Finette_.[224]To begin with, there is that capital error which has been noticed above,that it is not really a fairy tale at all. Except the magic_quenouilles_, which themselves are of the smallest importance in thestory, there is nothing in it beyond the ways of an ordinary adventurous_nouvelle_. The touch of _grivoiserie_ by which the PrincessesNonchalante and Babillarde allow the weaknesses ticketed in their namesto hand them over as a prey to the cunning and blackguard PrinceRiche-Cautele, under pretence of entirely unceremonised and unwitnessed"marriage," is in no way amusing. Finette's escapes from the same fateare a little better, but the whole is told (as its author seems to havefelt) at much too great length; and the dragging in of an actual fairyat the end, to communicate to the heroine the exceedingly novel andrecondite maxim that "Prudence is the mother of safety," is almostidiotic. If the thing has any value, it is as an example, not of a realfairy tale nor of a satire on fairy tales (for which it is much too much"out of the rules" and much too stupid), but of something which may savean ordinary reader, or even student, from attacking, as I fear we shallhave to do, the _Cabinet des Fees_ at large, and discovering, by painfulexperience, how excessively silly and tedious the corruption of thiswise and delightful kind may be.

  One might, of course, draw lessons from others of the original batches,but this may suffice for the specimen batch under immediate review._Peau d'Ane_, one of the most interesting to "folklorists" andorigin-hunters, is, of course, also in itself interesting to students ofliterature. Its combination of the old theme of the incestuous passionof a father for his daughter, with the special but not invariable shadowof excuse in the selfish vanity of the mother's dying request, is quiteout of the usual way of these things. So is the curious series of fairyfailures--things apparently against the whole set of the game--beginningwith the unimaginative conception of dresses, weather-, or sky-, moon-,and sun-colour, rendered futile by the success of the artists, andending in the somewhat banal device of making yourself ugly and runningaway, with the odd conclusion-contrast of Peau d'Ane's squalidappearance in public and her private splendour in the fairy garments.

  [Sidenote: The danger of the "moral."]

  Still, the lessons of correction, warning, and instruction to be drawnfrom these gracious little things, for the benefit of their younger andmore elaborate successors, are not easily exhausted. They are, on thewhole, very moral, and it is well that morality, rightly understood,should animate fiction. But they are occasionally much _too_ moral, andthen they warn off instead of cheering on. Take, for instance, two otherneighbours in the collection just quoted, _Le Prince Cheri_ and theever-delightful _La Belle et La Bete_. Both of these are moral; but thelatter is just moral enough, while _Cheri_, with one or two alleviations(of which, perhaps, more presently), is hardly anything if _not_ moral,and therefore disgusts, or at any rate bores. On the other hand,"Beauty" is as _bonne_ as she is _belle_; her only fault, that ofoverstaying her t
ime, is the result of family affection, and her rewardand the punishment of the wicked sisters are quite copy-book. But it isnot for this part that we love what is perhaps the most engaging of allthe tales. It is for Beauty's own charm, which is subtly conveyed; forthe brisk and artistic "revolutions and discoveries"; above all, for thefar from merely sentimental pathos of the Beast's all but death _for_love, and the not in the least mawkish bringing of him to life again_by_ love.[225]

  [Sidenote: Yet often redeemed.]

  One may perhaps also make amends to Prince Cheri for the abuse justbestowed on him. His story has at least one touch which is sovereign fora fiction-fault common in the past, and only too probable in the future,at whatever time one takes the "present" of the story. When he is notunjustly turned into a monster of the most allegorical-composite orderof monster architecture--a monster to whom dragons and wyverns andchimaeras dire are as ordinary as kittens--what do they do with him?They put him "with the other monsters." _Ce n'est pas plus raide queca._ The present writer need hardly fear to be thought ananti-mediaevalist, but he is very much afraid that an average mediaevalromancer might have thought it necessary to catalogue these othermonsters with the aid of a Bestiary. On the other hand, there have beentimes--no matter which--when this abrupt introduction and dismissal ofmonsters as common objects (for which any respectable community willhave proper stables or cages) would have been disallowed, or explainedaway, or apologised for, or, worst of all, charged with a sort of winkor sneer to let the reader know that the author knew what he was about.Here there is nothing of this superfluous or offensive sort. Theappropriate and undoubting logic of the style prevails over all tooreasonable difficulties. There are monsters, or how could Cheri be madeinto one? If there are monsters there must, or in the highestprobability may, be other monsters. Put him with them, and make no fussabout it. If all novelists had had this _aplomb_, we should have beenspared a great deal of tediousness, some positive failures, and thespoiling, or at least the blotting and marring, of many excellentsituations. But to praise the good points of fairy stories, from thebrief consummateness of _Le Chat Botte_ to the longer drawn but stillperfectly golden matter of _La Biche au Bois_, would really besuperfluous. One loathes leaving them; but one has to do it, so far asthe more unsophisticated part of them is concerned. Yet the duty of thehistorian will not let him be content with these, and, to vary "TheBrave Lord Willoughby" a little, "turning to the [_others_] a thousandmore," he must "slay," or at least criticise.

  [Sidenote: The main _Cabinet des Fees_--more on Mme. d'Aulnoy.]

  He who ventures on the complete _Cabinet des Fees_[226] in its more thanforty volumes, will provide himself with "cabin furniture" of nearly asgood pastime-quality, at least to my fancy (and yet I may claim to besomething of a Balzacian), as the slightly larger shelf-ful whichsuggested itself to the fancy of Mr. Browning and provoked (_as_ "cabinfurniture") the indignation of Mr. Swinburne. But he had better lookover the contents before he takes it on board, or he will find himself,if his travelling library is anything like as large as that of thepatriarch Photius, in danger of duplication. For the _Cabinet_ holds,not merely the _Arabian Nights_ in the original translation of Galland,but also Hamilton: as well, of course, as much of what we may call theclassical fairy matter proper on which we have already dwelt, and whichis known to all decent people. Still, he will find more of Mme. d'Aulnoythan, unless he is already something of an expert, he already knows, andperhaps he will not be entirely rejoiced at the amplification. She wrotemore or less regular heroic romances,[227] which are very inferior toher fairy tales; and though these are not in the _Cabinet_, shesometimes "mixes the kinds" rather disastrously in shorter pieces. Theframework of _Don Gabriel Ponce de Leon_, which enshrines the sad butcharming "Golden Sheep," and a variant of _Cendrillon_, is poor stuff;and _Les Chevaliers Errans_ only shows what we knew before, that thejunction of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries is not the time orthe place in which to find the loved one, if that loved one ismediaeval. Still, this invaluable lady does generally reck and exemplifyher own immortal rede. "Il me semble," says Prince Marcassin to thefairies, "a vous entendre, qu'il ne faut pas meme croire ce qu'on voit."And they reply, "La regle n'est pas toujours generale; _mais il estindubitable que l'on doit suspendre son jugement sur bien des choses, etpenser qu'il peut entrer quelque chose de Feerie dans ce que nous paroitde plus certain_."

  [Sidenote: Warning against disappointment.]

  Alas! it was precisely this _quelque chose de Feerie_ which is wantingin the majority of the minor fairy-tale writers. That they should attainthe wonderful simplicity, freshness, and charm of Perrault at his bestwas not to be expected; hardly that they should reach the moresophisticated grace of Hamilton; but it might have been hoped that somewould come more or less near the lower, and much more unequal, butoccasionally very successful art or luck of Mme. d'Aulnoy herself.Unfortunately very few of them do. It was easy enough to begin _Iletait autrefois un roi et une reine_, to put in a Prince Charming and aPrincess Graciosa, and good fairies and bad fairies, and magicians andogres and talking beasts, and the like. It was not so easy to make allthese things work together to produce the peculiar spell which belongsto the true land of Faery, and to that land alone. Still moreunfortunately, wrong ways of attempting the object (or some otherobject) were as easy as the right ways were difficult. They cannot avoidmuddling the fairy tale with the heroic romance: and with thehalf-historical sub-variety of this latter which Mme. de La Fayetteintroduced. The worst enchanter that ever fairies had to fight with isnot such an enemy of theirs as History and Geography--two mostrespectable persons in their proper places, but fatal here. They willmake King Richard of England tell fairy tales to Blondel out of theAustrian tower, and muddle up things about his wicked brother the Countof Mortagne. They will talk of Lemnos and Memphis and other _patatis_and _patatas_ of the classical dictionary and the _Grand Cyrus_. In afashion not perhaps so instantly suicidal, but in a sufficientlyannoying fashion, they will invent clumsy "speaking" names, or dog-Latinand cat-Greek ones. And, perhaps worst of all, they prostitute thedelicate charms of the fairy tale to clumsy adulation of the reigningmonarch, and tedious half-veiled flattery or satire of less exaltedpersons, or, if "prostitute" be too harsh a word here, attempt to forcea marriage between these charms and the dullest moralising. In fact, itis scarcely extravagant to say that, in regard to too many of them--tosome of them at least--everything that ought not to be, such as thethings just mentioned and others, is there, and everything that ought tobe--lightness, brightness, the sense of the impossible in which it isdelightful to believe, the dream-feeling, the magic of gratified wishand realised ideal--is not.

  [Sidenote: Mlle. de la Force and others.]

  Of course, in these other and minor writers that the _Cabinet_ has togive, all these disappointments do not always occur, and the crop ismixed. Mlle. de la Force[228] was one of those _dames_ or _demoisellesde compagnie_ who figure so largely in the literary history of theFrench eighteenth century, and whose group is illustrated by such namesas those of Mlle. Delaunay and Mlle. de Lespinasse. Her full name wasCharlotte Rose de Caumont de la Force, and she was, if not anadventuress, a person of adventures, who also wrote manyquasi-historical romances in the _Princesse de Cleves_ manner. Her fairytales are thin, and marred by weak allegory of the "Carte de Tendre"kind. A "Pays des Delices," very difficult to reach, and constantlypersonated by a "Pays des Avances," promises little and performs less.

  The eleven (it is an exact eleven) called _Les Illustres Fees_ isscarcely so illustrious as the All England and the United were, in thememory of some of us, in another and better played kind of cricket. Thestories are not very long; they run to a bare eighteen small pagesapiece; but few readers are likely to wish them longer. _Blanche-Belle_introduces the _sylphes_--an adulteration[229] which generally producesthe effect that Thackeray deplored when his misguided friend would have_puree_ mixed with _julienne_. _Le Roi Magicien_ is painfully destituteof personality; we want names, and pretty names, for a
fairy tale. _LePrince Roger_ is a descendant of Melusine, and one does not think shewould be proud of him. _Fortunio_ is better, and _Quiribirini_, one ofthe numerous stories which turn on remembering or failing to remember anodd name,[230] perhaps better still; but the rest deserve little praise,and the last, _L'Ile Inaccessible_, appears to be, if it is anything butpure dulness, a flat political allegory about England and France.

  The style picks up a little in the miscellany called (not without atouch of piquancy) _La Tyrannie des Fees Detruite_, by a Mme.d'_Auneuil_, whom persons of a sceptical turn might imagine to be a sortof factitious rival to Mme. d'Aulnoy.[231] It returns to the Greek orpseudo-Greek names of the heroic romance, and to its questionable deviceof _histoires_ stuck like plums in a pudding. Nor are the _SansParangon_ and the _Fee des Fees_ of the Sieur de Preschac utterly bad.But _Les Aventures d'Abdalla_, besides rashly incurring the danger (tobe exemplified and commented on more fully a little later) of vying withthe _Arabian Nights_, substitutes for the genuine local colourand speech the _fade_ jargon of French eighteenth-century"sensibility"--_autels_ and _flammes_ and all the rest of the trumpery.But it does worse still--it tries to be instructive, and informs us ofthe difference between male and female _dives_ and _peris_, of thecustom of suttee, and of the fact that there are many professionalsingers and dancers among Indian girls. This is simply intolerable.[232]

  [Sidenote: The large proportion of Eastern Tales.]

  [Sidenote: _Les Voyages de Zulma._]

  The great prominence of the Eastern Tale, indeed, in this collection islikely to be one of the most striking things in it to a new-comer. Hewould know, of course, that such tales are not uncommon in contemporaryEnglish; he would certainly be acquainted with Addison's, Johnson's,Goldsmith's experiments in them, perhaps with those of Hawkesworth andothers.[233] He could see for himself that the "accaparation" by Franceof the peerless _Arabian Nights_ themselves must have led to a stillgreater fancy for them there; and he might possibly have heard thetradition (which the present writer[234] never traced to its source, orconnected with any real evidence either way) that no less a person thanLesage assisted Galland in his task. But though the _Nights_ themselvesform the most considerable single group in the _Cabinet_, the unitedbulk of their congeners or imitations occupies a still larger space.There are the rather pale and "moon-like" but sometimes notuninteresting _Thousand and One Days_, and the obviously and ratherfoolishly pastiched _Thousand and One Quarters of an Hour_. There arePersian Tales--origin of a famous and characteristic jibe at "NambyPamby" Philips--and Turkish Tales which are a fragment of one of thenumerous versions of the _Seven Sages_ scheme. The just mentioned_Adventures of Abdallah_ betray their source and their nature at once;the hoary fables of Bidpai and Lokman are modernised to keep companywith these "fakings," and there are more definitely literary attempts tofollow. _Les Voyages de Zulma_, again an incomplete thing which actuallytails off towards its failure of an end, shows some ingenuity in itsconception, but suffers, even in the beginning, from that mixing ofkinds which has been pointed out and reprobated. An attempt is made tosystematise the fairy idea by representing these gracious creatures asoffspring of Destiny and the Earth, with a cruel brother Time, and anoffset of mischievous sisters who exactly correspond to the goodones--Disgracieuse to Gracieuse, and so on--and have a queenLaide-des-Laides, who answers to the good fairy princess,Belle-des-Belles. A mortal--Zulma--is, for paternal rather than personalmerits, chosen by Destiny to enjoy the privilege of entering andunderstanding the fairy world, and Gracieuse is the fairy assigned ashis guide. The idea is, as has been said, rather ingenious; but it istoo systematic, and like other things in other parts of the collection,"loses the grace and liberty of the composition" in system. Moreover,the morality, as is rather the wont of these imitators when they are not(as a few of the partly non-cabinetted ones are) deliberately naughty,is much too scrupulous.[235] It is clear that Zulma is in love withGracieuse, that she responds to some extent, and that Her Majesty QueenBelle-des-Belles is a little jealous and inclined to cut Gracieuse out.But nothing in the finished part of the story gives us any of the nicelove-making that we want.

  [Sidenote: Fenelon.]

  Madame le Marchand's _Boca_ is a story which begins in Peru but finishesin an "Isle of Ebony," where the names of Zobeide and Abdelazis seemrather more at home; it is not without merit. As for the fables andstories which Fenelon composed for that imperfect Marcellus, the Duke ofBurgundy, they have all the merits of style, sense, and good feelingwhich they might be expected to have, and it would be absurd to ask ofthem qualities which, in the circumstances, they could not display.

  The _Chinese Tales_ are about as little Chinese as may be, consisting ofaccounts of his punitive metempsychoses by the Mandarin Fum Hoam (a nameafterwards borrowed in better known work), who seems to have beenexcluded from the knowledge of anything particularly Celestial.[236] Butthey are rather smartly told. On the other hand, _Florine ou la BelleItalienne_, which is included in the same volume with the sham_Chinoiseries_, is one of the worst instances of the confusion of kindsnoted above. It honestly prepares one for what is coming by a referencein the Preface to Fenelon; but a list of _dramatis_ (or _fabulae_)_personae_, which follows, would have tried the saintliness even of himof Cambrai almost as much as a German occupation of his archiepiscopalsee. "Agatonphisie," for a personage who represents, we are told, "LeBon Sens," might break the heart of Clenardus, if not the head ofPriscian.

  _The Thousand and One Quarter Hours_, or _Contes Tartares_, have aslittle of the Tartar as those above mentioned of the Chinese, but ifsomewhat verbose, they are not wholly devoid of literary quality. Thesubstance is, as in nearly all these cases, _Arabian Nights_ rehashed;but the hashing is not seldom done _secundum artem_, and they have, withthe _Les Sultanes de Gujerate_ and _Nouveaux Contes Orientaux_, whichfollow them, the faculty of letting themselves be read.

  The best of these[237] (except the French translation of the so-calledSir Charles Morell's (really James Ridley's) _Tales of the Genii_ (seeabove)) is perhaps, on the whole, _Les Sultanes de Gujerate_, where notonly are some of the separate tales good, but the frame-story is farmore artistically worked in and round and out than is usually the case.But taking them all together, there is one general and obvious, as wellas another local and particular objection to them. Although thesub-title (_v. sup._ again) lets them in, the main one regards themwith, at best, an oblique countenance. The differences between theWestern fairy and the Eastern _peri_, _dive_, _djin_, or whatever onechooses to call her, him, or it, though not at all easy to define, areexceedingly easy to feel. The magicians and enchanters of the two kindsare nearer to each other, but still not the same. On the other hand, itis impossible for any one who has once felt the strange charm of the_Arabian Nights_ not to feel the immense inferiority of these rehashesand _croquettes_ and _rissoles_, and so forth, of the noble old haunchor sirloin. Yet again, from the special point of view of this book,though they cannot be simply passed over, they supply practicallynothing which marks, or causes, or even promises an advance in thegeneral development of fiction. They may be said to be simply acontinuation of, or a relapse upon, the pure romance of adventure, withdifferent dress, manners, and nomenclature. There is hardly a singletouch of character in any one; their very morals (and no shame to them)are arch-known; and they do not possess style enough to conferdistinction of the kind open to such things. If you take _Les QuatreFacardins_, before most of them, and _Vathek_[238] (itself, remember,originally French in language), after them all, the want of any kind ofgenius in their composers becomes almost disgustingly apparent. Yet eventhese masterpieces are masterpieces outside the main run of the novel.

  [Sidenote: Caylus.]

  Although, therefore, it would be very ungrateful not to acknowledge thatthey do sometimes comply with the demands of that sensible tyrantalready mentioned, Sultan Hudgiadge, and "either amuse us or send us tosleep," it must be admitted to be with some relief that one turns oncemore, at about the five and twentieth volume, to s
omething like thefairy tale proper, if to a somewhat artificial and sophisticated form ofit. The Comte de Caylus was a scholar and a man of unusual brains;Moncrif showed his mixture of Scotch and French blood in a correspondingblend of quaintness and _esprit_; others, such as Voisenon in one sexand Voltaire's pet Mlle. de Lubert in the other, whatever they were,were at any rate not stupid.

  [Sidenote: _Prince Courtebotte et Princesse Zibeline._]

  To Anne Claude Philippe de Tubieres de Grimoard de Pestels de Levi,Comte de Caylus, one owes particular thanks, at least when one comes tothe history of _Le Prince Courtebotte_, after wrestling with the_macedoine_ of orientalities just discussed. It is not, of course,Perrault, and it is not the best Madame D'Aulnoy. But you are never "putout" by it; the hero, if rather a hero of Scott in the uniform proprietyof his conduct, or of Virgil in his success, is not like Waverley,partly a simpleton, nor like Aeneas, wholly a cad. One likes thePrincess Zibeline both before she had a heart and afterwards; it can bevery agreeable to know a nice girl in both states. Perhaps it was notquite cricket of the good fairy to play that trick[239] on theambassador of King Brandatimor, but it was washed out in fair fight; andKing Biby and his people of poodles are delightful. One wonders whetherDickens, who was better read in this kind of literature than in most,consciously or unconsciously borrowed from Caylus one of his not leastknown touches.[240]

  [Sidenote: _Rosanie._]

  In the next of the Caylus stories there is an Idea--the capital seemsdue because the Count was a man of Science, as science (perhaps better)went then, and because one or his other tales (not the best) is actuallycalled _Le Palais des Idees_. The idea of _Rosanie_ is questionable,though the carrying of it out is all right. Two fairies are fighting forthe (fairy) crown, and the test is who shall produce the most perfectspecimen of the special fairy art of education of mortals. (I may, as a_ci-devant_ member of this craft, be permitted to regret that thebusiness has been so largely taken over by persons who are neitherfairies in one sex, though there may be some exceptions here, norenchanters in the other, where exceptions are very rare indeed.) Thetutoress of the Princess Rosanie pursues her task, and pursues ittriumphantly, by dividing the child into twelve _interim_ personalities,each of whom has a special characteristic--beauty, gentleness, vivacity,discretion, and what not. At the close of the prescribed period they arereunited, and their fortunate lover, who has hitherto been distractedbetween the twelve _eidola_, is blessed with the compound Rosanie.Although it is well known to be the rashest of things for a man to sayanything about women--although certainly sillier things have been saidby men about women than about any other subject, except, of course,education itself--I venture to demur to the fairy method. Both _apriori_ and from experience, I should say that unmixed Beauty wouldbecome intolerably vain; that Discretion would grow into a hypocriticaland unpleasant prude; that Vivacity would develop into Vulgarity; andthat the reincarnation of the twelve would be one of the mostintolerable creatures ever known, if it were not that the impossibilityof the concentrated essences being united in one person, afterseparation in several, would save the situation by annihilating her.

  [Sidenote: _Prince Muguet et Princesse Zaza._]

  Caylus, however, makes up in the third tale, _Le Prince Muguet et laPrincesse Zaza_, where, though the principal fairy, she of the _Hetre_,is rather silly for one of the kind, Muguet is a not quite intolerablecoxcomb, and Zaza is positively charming. Her sufferings with a wickedold woman are common; but her distress when the fairy makes her seemugly to the Prince, who has actually fallen in love with her trueportrait, and the scenes where the two meet under this spell, are amongthe best in the whole _Cabinet_--which is a bold word. The others,though naturally unequal, never or very seldom lack charm, for thereason that Caylus knew what one has ventured to call the secret ofFairyland--that it is the land of the attained Wish--and that he has theart of scattering rememberable and generative phrases and fancies._Tourlou et Rirette_, one of the lightest of all, may notimpossibly--indeed probably--have suggested Jean Ingelow's greatsingle-speech poem of _Divided_; the Princesses Pimprenelle andLumineuse are the right sort of Princesses; _Nonchalante et Papillon_,_Bleuette et Coquelicot_ come and take their places unpretentiously butcertainly; Mignonette and Minutieuse are not "out." Caylus is notHamilton by a long way; but he has something that Hamilton has not. Heis still less Perrault or Madame d'Aulnoy, but he has a sufficientdifference from either. With these predecessors he makes the selectquartette of the fairy-tale tellers of France.

  After him one expects--and meets--a drop. No reasonable person wouldlook for a really great fairy tale from Jean Jacques, because you mustforget yourself to write one; and _La Reine Fantasque_, though not bad,is not good. Madame de Villeneuve may, for ought I know, have been anexcellent person in other ways, but she deserves one of the worstbolgias in the Inferno of literature for lengthening, muddling, andaltogether spoiling the ever-beloved "Beauty and the Beast." Mlle. deLussan, they say,[241] was too fond of eating, and died of indigestion.A more indigestible thing than her own _Les Veillees de Thessalie_,which figure here (she wrote a great deal more), the present writer hasnever come across. And as for _Prince Titi_, which fills a volume and ahalf, it might have been passed without any remark at all if it had notbecome famous in connection with the Battle of Croker and Macaulay overthe body of Boswell's _Johnson_.[242]

  A break takes place at the thirtieth volume of the _Cabinet_, and afresh instalment, later than the first batch, follows, with moreparticulars about authors. Here we find the attributions of the verylarge series of imitative Eastern tales already noticed, and to befollowed in this new parcel by _Soirees Bretonnes_, to Thomas SimonGueulette. The thirty-first opens with the _Funestine_ ofBeauchamps[243]--an ingenious title and heroine-name, for it avoids theunnatural sounds so common, is a quite possible feminine appellation,and though a "speaking" one, is only so to those who understand thelearned languages, and so deserve to be spoken to. Moreover, the idea,though not startlingly original or a mark of genius, is good--that of anunlucky child who attracts the malignity of _all_ fairies, and is ugly,stupid, ill-natured, and everything that is detestable. Her reformationby the genie Clair-Obscur would not be bad if it were cut a great dealshorter.

  It is followed by a series of short tales, beginning with _The LittleGreen Frog_, and not of the first class, which in turn are succeeded bytwo (or, as the latter is in two parts, three) longer stories, sometimesattributed to Caylus--_Le Loup Galeux_ and _Bellinette et Belline_. The_Soirees Bretonnes_ themselves, though apparently the earliest, are notthe happiest of Gueulette's _pastiches_; the speaking names[244]especially are irritating. A certain Madame de Lintot, who does not seemto have had anything to do with the hero of Pope's famous "Ride with aBookseller," is what may be called "neutral," with _Timandre etBleuette_ and others; nor does a fresh instalment of Moncrif's effortsshow the historian of cats at his best. But in vol. xxxiii. Mlle. deLubert, glanced at before, raises the standard. She should have cut hertales down; it is the mischief of these later things that they extendtoo much. But _Lionnette et Coquerico_ is good; _Le Prince Glace et laPrincesse Etincelante_ is not bad; and _La Princesse Camion_ attracts,by dint of extravagance in the literal sense. Fairy trials had gone far;but the necessity of either marrying a beautiful sort of mermaid or elseof _flaying_ her, and the subsequent trial, not of flaying, but brayingher in a mortar as a shrimp, show at least a lively fancy. Nor is theanonymous _Nourjahad_--an extremely moral but not dull tale, whichfollows--at all contemptible.

  The French Bar, inexhaustible in such things, gave another tale-tellerin one Pajon, who, besides the obligatory _polissonneries_, not includedin the _Cabinet_, composed not a few harmless things of some merit. Thefirst, _Eritzine et Paretin_, is perhaps the best. Nor is the complementof vol. xxxiv., the _Bibliotheque des Fees et des Genies_ (the title ofwhich was that of a larger collection, containing much the same matteras the _Cabinet_, and probably in Johnson's mind when he jotted down_Prince Titi_), quite barren. _La Princesse Minon-Minette
et le PrinceSouci_, _Apranor et Bellanire_, _Grisdelin et Charmante_, are none ofthem unreadable. The next volume, too, is better as a whole than any wehave had for a long time. Mme. Fagnan's _Minet Bleu et Louvette_contains, in its fifteen pages, a good situation by no meansill-treated. The pair are under the same spell--that of being ugly andwitty for part of the week, handsome, stupid, and disagreeable for theother part, and of having the times so arranged that each sees the otherat his or her most repulsive to her or his actual state. The way inwhich "Love unconquered in battle" proves, though not without fairyassistance, victorious here also, is very ingeniously managed.

  One of the cleverest of all the later fairy tales is the _Acajou etZirphile_ of Duclos, who, indeed, had sufficient wits to do anythingwell, and was a novelist, though not a very distinguished one, on alarger scale. The tale itself (which is said to have been written "upto" illustrations of Boucher designed for something else) has, indeed,a smatch of vulgarity, but a purely superfluous and easily removableone. It is almost as cleverly written as any thing of Voltaire's: andthe final situation, where the hero, who has gone through all themischiefs and triumphs of one of Crebillon's, recovers his only reallove, Zirphile, in a torment and tornado of heads separated from bodiesand hands separated from arms, is rather capital.

  Not much less so, in the different way of a pretty sentimentality, isthe _Aglae ou Naboline_ of the painter Coypel; while the batch of shortstories from Mme. Le Prince de Beaumont's _Magasin des Enfants_ have hada curious fate. They are rather pooh-poohed by French editors andcritics, and they are certainly _very_ moral, too much so, in fact, ashas been already objected to one of them, _Le Prince Cheri_. Butallowances have been allowed even there, and, somehow or other, _Fatalet Fortune_, _Le Prince Charmant_, _Joliette_, and the rest haverecovered more of the root of the matter than most others, and haveestablished a just popularity in translation.

  And then comes the shortest, I think, of all the stories in the one andforty volumes; the silliest as a composition; the most contemptibly_thought_--but by the accidents of fate endowed later with atragic-satiric _moralitas_ almost if not quite unrivalled in literature.Its author was a certain M. Selis, apparently a very respectableschoolmaster, professor, and bookmaker of not the lowestclass--employments and occupations in respect of all of which not a fewof us have earned our bread and paid our income-tax. Unluckily for him,there was born in his time a Dauphin, and he wrote a little adulatorytale of the birth, and the editors of the _Cabinet_ Appendix thanked himmuch for giving it them. It is not four pages long; it tells how anancestral genie--a great king named Louis--blessed the child, and saidthat he would be called "the father of his people," and another followedsuit with "the father of letters," and a third swore _Ventre SaintGris!_ and named the baby's uncle as "Joseph," and a still greater Louissaid other things, and a fairy named Maria Theresa crowned theblessings. Then came an ogre mounted on a leopard and eating raw meat,who was of Albion, and said he was king of the country, and observed"_God ham_" [_sic_], and was told that he would be beaten and made tolay down his arms by the child.

  And the Dauphin, unless this _signalement_ is strangely delusive, livedto know the worst ogres in the world (their chief was named Simon), whowere of his own people, and to die the most unhappy prince or king inthat world. And he of the Leopard who said _God ham_, would have savedthat Dauphin if he could, and did slay many of his less guiltlessrelations and subjects, and beat the rest "thorough and thorough," andrestored (could they have had the will and wit to profit by it) the raceof Louis and Francis, and of the genie who said "Ventre Saint Gris!" totheir throne. And this was the end of the vaticinations of M. Selis, andsuch are the tears of things.

  The rest of this volume is occupied by a baker's dozen of _ContesChoisis_, the first of which, _Les Trois Epreuves_, seems to imitateVoltaire, and is smartly written, while some of the others are not bad.

  Volume xxxvi. is occupied (not too appositely, though inoffensively initself) by a translation of Wieland's _Don Silvia de Rosalva_, which isa German _Sir Launcelot Greaves_ or _Spiritual Quixote_, with fairytales substituted for romances of chivalry. The author of _Oberon_ wasseldom, if ever, unreadable, and he is not so here; but the thing isneither a tale proper (seeing that it fills a whole volume), nor a realfairy tale, nor French, so we may let it alone.

  Then this curious collection once more comes to an end, which is not anend, with a very useful though not too absolutely trustworthy volume of_Notices des Auteurs_, containing not only "bio-bibliographical"articles on the actual writers collected, but references to others,great and small, from Marivaux, Lesage, Prevost, and Voltaire downwards,and glances, sometimes with actual _comptes rendus_, at pieces of theclass not included. That it is conducted on the somewhat irresponsibleand indolent principles of its time might be anticipated from previousthings, such as the clause in the Preface to Wieland's just noticedbook, that the author had "gone to Weimar, where perhaps he is still,"an observation which, from the context, seems not to be so much anattempt at _persiflage_ as a pure piece of lazy _naivete_. The volume,however, contains a great deal of information such as it is; somesketches, ingeniously draped or Bowdlerised, of the "naughty" talesexcluded from the collection itself, and a few amusing stories.[245]

  As, however, has been said, there was to be still another joint to thiscrocodile, and the four last volumes, xxxviii. to xli. (_not_, as iswrongly said by some, xxxvii. to xl.), contain a somewhat rashcontinuation of the _Arabian Nights_ themselves, with which Cazotte[246]appears to have had a good deal to do, though an actual Arab monk ofthe name of Chavis is said to have been mainly concerned. They are notbad reading; but even less of fairy tales than Gueulette'sorientalities.

  * * * * *

  Not much apology is needed, it may be hoped, for the space given to thiscurious kind; the bulk of its production, the length of its popularity,and the intrinsic merit of some few of its better examples vindicate itsposition here. But a confession should take the place of the unnecessaryexcuse already partly made. The artificial fairy tale of the moreregular kind was not, by the law of its being, prevented almostunavoidably from doing service to the novel at large, as the Easternstory was; but, as a matter of fact, it did little except what will bementioned in the next paragraph. That it helped to exemplify afresh whathad been shown over and over again for centuries, the singularrecreative faculty of the nation and the language, was about all. Butanother national characteristic, the as yet incurable set of the Frenchmind towards types--which, if the second volume of this work everappears, will, it is hoped, be shown to have spared the laternovel--seized on these tales. They are "as like as my fingers to myfingers," and they are not very pretty fingers as a rule. Incidentallythey served as frameworks to some of the worst verse in the world, nor,for the most part, did they even encourage very good prose. You may getsome good out of them; but unless you like hunting, and are not vexed byfrequent failures to "draw," the _Cabinet des Fees_ is best left toexploration at second-hand.

  * * * * *

  To collect the results of this long chapter, we may observe that inthese three departments--Pastoral, Heroic, and Fairy--various importantelements of _general_ novel material and construction are provided in amanner not yet noticed. The Pastoral may seem to be the most obsolete,the most of a mere curiosity. But the singular persistence and, in away, universality of this apparently fossil convention has been alreadypointed out; and it is perhaps only necessary to shift the pointer tothe fact that the novels with which one of the most modern, in perhapsthe truest sense of that word, of modern novelists, though one of theeldest, Mr. Thomas Hardy, began to make his mark--_Under the GreenwoodTree_ and _Far from the Madding Crowd_--may be claimed by the pastoralwith some reason. And it has another and a wider claim--that it keepsup, in its own way, the element of the imaginative, of the fanciful--letus say even of the unreal--without which romance cannot live, withoutwhich novel is almost repulsive, and which the increasing advances ofrealism
itself were to render more than ever indispensable. As for theHeroic, we have already shown how much, with all its faults, it did forthe novel generally in construction and in other ways. It has been shownlikewise, it is hoped, how the Fairy story, besides that additionalprovision of imagination, fancy, and dream which has just been said tobe so important--mingled with this a kind of realism which was totallylacking in the others, and which showed itself especially in oneimmensely important department wherein they had been so much to seek.Fairies may be (they are not to my mind) things that "do not happen";but the best of these fairies are fifty times more natural, not merelythan the characters of Scudery and Gomberville, but than those (I holdto my old blasphemy) of Racine. Animals may not talk; but the animalsof Perrault and even of Madame d'Aulnoy talk divinely well, and, what ismore, in a way most humanly probable and interesting. Never was theresuch a triumph of the famous impossible-probable as a good fairy story.Except to the mere scientist and to (of course, quite a differentperson) the unmitigated fool, these stories, at least the best of them,fully deserve the delightful phrase which Southey attributes to a friendof his. They are "necessary and voluptuous and right." They were, to theFrench eighteenth century and to French prose, almost what the balladwas to the English eighteenth century and to English verse; almost whatthe _Maerchen_ was to the prose and verse alike of yet un-PrussianisedGermany. They were more than twice blessed: for they were charming inthemselves; they exercised good influence on other literary productions;and they served as precious antidotes to bad things that they could notimprove, and almost as precious alternatives to things good inthemselves but of a different kind from theirs.

  What, however, none of the kinds discussed in this chapter gaveentirely, while only the fairy story gave in part, and that in strongcontrast to another part of itself, was a history of ordinarylife--high, low, or middle--dealing with characters more or lessrepresenting live and individual personages; furnished with incidents ofa possible and probable character more or less regularly constructed;furnished further with effective description of the usual scenery,manners, and general accessories of living; and, finally, giving suchconversation as might be thought necessary in forms suitable to "men ofthis world," in the Shakespearian phrase. In other words, none of themattained, or even attempted to fulfil, the full definition of the novel.The scattered books to be mentioned in the next chapter did not,perhaps, in any one case--even Madame de la Fayette's--quite achievethis; but in all of them, even in Sorel's, we see more or less consciousor unconscious attempt at it.

  FOOTNOTES:

  [124] Herr Koerting (_v. sup._ p. 133) gave considerable space toBarclay's famous _Argenis_, which also appeared fairly early in thecentury. To treat, however, a Latin book, written by a Scotsman, withadmittedly large if not main reference to European politics, as a"French novel," seems a literary solecism. I do not know whether it isrash to add that the _Argenis_ itself seems to me to have been wildlyoverpraised. It is at any rate one of the few books--one of the stillfewer romances--which have defied my own powers of reading at more thanone attempt.

  [125]

  [Sidenote: Note on marked influence of Greek Romance.]

  The repetition, in the seventeenth century, of something very like aphenomenon which we noticed in the twelfth, is certainly striking, andmay seem at first sight rather uncanny. But those who have made someattempt to "find the whole" in literature, and in that attempt have atleast found out something about the curious laws of revolution andrecurrence which take the place of any progress in a straight line, willdeem the thing natural enough. We declined, in the earlier case, toadmit much, if any, direct influence of the accomplished Greek Romanceon the Romance of the West; but we showed how classical subjects,whether pure or tinctured with Oriental influence, induced an immenselyimportant development of this same Western Romance in twodirections--that of manners, character, and passion, and that of marvel.In the later period classical influences of all sorts are again at work;but infinitely the larger part of that work is done by the GreekRomances themselves--pastoral, adventurous, and sentimental,--the datesof the translations of which will be given presently. And the newerOriental kind--coming considerably later still and sharing its naturecertainly, and perhaps its origin, not now with classical mythology, butagain, in the most curious way, with Western folk stories--supplementsand diversifies the reinforcement.

  [126] Scudery writes "Urfe," and this confirms the _obiter dictum_ ofSainte-Beuve, that with the Christian name, the "Monsieur," or someother title you must use the "_de_," otherwise not. But in thisparticular instance I think most French writers give the particle.

  [127] I myself, in writing a _Short History of French Literature_ manyyears ago, had to apologise for incomplete knowledge; and I will notundertake even now to have read every romance cursorily mentioned inthis chapter--indeed, some are not very easy to get at. But I have donemy best to extend my knowledge, assisted by a rather minute study of thecontemporary English heroic romance in prose and verse; and I believe Imay say that I do now really know the _Grand Cyrus_, though even now Iwill again not say that I have read every one of its perhaps two millionwords, or even the whole of every one of its more than 12,000 pages. Inregard to the _Astree_ I have been less fortunately situated; but "Ihave been there and still would go."

  [128] The above remarks are most emphatically _not_ intended to refer tothe work of Mr. Greg.

  [129] The sheep, whether as a beast of most multitude or for morerecondite reasons, has, of course, the preference; but it may bepermissible to say that no guardian of animals is excluded. Goat-herdsin the Greek ran the shepherd hard; neat-herds and swine-herds aboundeverywhere except, as concerns the last, in Jewry; even the goose-girlfigures, and has in Provencal at least a very pretty name--_auquiera_.

  [130] The mediaeval _pastourelle_ is no doubt to some extentconventional and "made in moulds." But it is by no means so unreal as(whether Greek was so or not) Roman pastoral pretty certainly was, andas modern has been beyond possibility of doubt. How good it could be,without any convention at all, Henryson showed once for all in our ownlanguage by _Robene and Makyne_.

  [131] _Theagenes and Chariclea_ had preceded it by thirteen years,though a fresh translation appeared in the same year, as did the firstof _Hysminias and Hysmine_. Achilles Tatius (_Cleitophon and Leucippe_)had been partly done in 1545, but waited till 1568 for completion.

  [132] _Op. cit. sup._

  [133] They are almost always _Amours_ after their Greek prototypes,sometimes simple, often qualified, and these most frequently by suchadjectives as "Infortunees et chastes," "Constantes et infortunees,""Chastes et heureuses," "Pudiques," etc. etc. Not a few are taken directfrom episodes of Ariosto or other elders; otherwise they are "loves" ofLaoniphile, Lozie, Poliphile and Mellonimphe, Pegase (who has somehow orother become a nymph) and Leandre, Dachmion and Deflore (a ratherunlucky heroine-name), etc. etc. Their authors are nearly as numerous astheir titles; but the chief were a certain Sieur de Nerveze, whosenumerous individual efforts were collected more than once to the numberat least of a good baker's dozen, and a Sieur des Escuteaux, who had thesame fortune. Sometimes the Hellenism went rather to seed in such titlesas _Erocaligenese_, which supposed itself to be Greek for "Naissanced'un bel amour." It is only (at least in England) in the very largestlibraries, perhaps in the British Museum alone, that there is any chanceof examining these things directly; some of them escaped even the mightyhunt of M. Reynier himself. What the present writer has found is treatedshortly in the text.

  [134] M. Reynier (most justly, but of course after many predecessors)points out that the common filiation of these things on Marini andGongora is chronologically impossible. We could, equally of course,supply older examples still in English; and persons of any reading cancarry the thing back through sixteenth- and fifteenth-century examplesto the Dark Ages and the late Greek classics--if no further.

  [135] It is fair to say that the first is "make-weighted" with apastoral play entitled _Athlette_, from the heroine
's rather curiousname.

  [136] It _has_ two poems and some miscellanea. Something like this isthe case with another bookmaker of the class, Du Souhait.

  [137] It may be childish, but the association in this group ofladies--three of them bearing some of the greatest historic names ofFrance, and the fourth that of the admirable critic with no othernamesake of whom I ever met--seemed to me interesting. It is perhapsworth adding that Isabel de Rochechouart seems to have been not merelydedicatee but part author of the first tale.

  [138] The habit is common with these authors.

  [139] He gives more analysis than usual, but complains of the author's"affectation and bad taste." I venture to think this relatively ratherharsh, though it is positively too true of the whole group.

  [140] _La Vie et les Oeuvres de Honore d'Urfe._ Par le Chanoine O. C.Reure, Paris, 1910.

  [141] The Abbe Reure, to whom I owe my own knowledge of the translationand dedication, says nothing more.

  [142] M. Reynier, in the useful book so often quoted, has shown that, asone would expect, this influence is not absent from the smaller Frenchlove-novels which preceded the _Astree_; indeed, as we saw, it isobvious, though in a form of more religiosity, as early as the_Heptameron_. But it was not till the seventeenth century in France, ortill a little before it in some cases with us, that "Love in fantastictriumph sat" between the shadowing wings of sensual and intellectualpassion.

  [143] They had, indeed, neither luck nor distinction after Honore'sdeath: and the last of the family died, like others of the renegadenobles of France, by his own hand, to escape the guillotine which hehimself had helped to establish.

  [144] The more orthodox "laws of love" which Celadon puts up in his"Temple of Astraea" are less amusing.

  [145] He constantly plays this part of referee and moraliser. But he isby no means exempt from the pleasing fever of the place, and some havebeen profane enough to think his mistress, Diane, more attractive thanthe divine Astree herself.

  [146] Very delicate persons have been shocked by the advantages affordedto Celadon in his disguise as the Druid's daughter, and the consequentfamiliarity with the innocent unrecognising heroine. But _honi soit_will cover them.

  [147] There is plenty of this, including a regular siege of the capital,Marcilly.

  [148] The constant confusion, in these quasi-classical romances, ofmasculine and feminine names is a rather curious feature. But the lateSir W. Gilbert played some tricks of the kind in _Pygmalion andGalatea_, and I remember an English novelist, with more pretensions toscholarship than Gilbert, making the particularly unfortunate blunder ofattributing to Longus a book called "_Doris_ and Chloe."

  [149] It is fair to say that Urfe has been praised for these historicalexcursions or incursions of his.

  [150] Its difficulty of access in the French has been noted. The Englishtranslation may be less rare, but it is not a good one even of its kind.And, in face of the most false and misleading statements, never morefrequent than at the present moment, about the efficacy of translations,it may be well to insist on the truth. For science, history philosophy(though in a descending ratio through these three) translations mayserve. The man who knows Greek or Latin or any other _literature_ onlythrough them knows next to nothing of that literature as such, and inits literary quality. The version may be, as in the leading case ofFitzGerald's Omar Khayyam, literature itself of the highest class; butit is quite other literature than the original, and is, in fact, a neworiginal itself. It may, while keeping closer, be as good as Catullus onSappho or as bad as Mr. Gladstone on Toplady in form; but the form, evenif copied, is always again other.

  [151] Some reasons will be given later for taking this first--not theleast being the juxtaposition with the _Astree_. The actual order of thechief "Heroic" authors and books is as follows: Gomberville, _LaCaritee_, 1622; _Polexandre_, 1632; _Citheree_, 1640-42. _LaCalprenede_, _Cassandre_, 1642; _Cleopatre_, 1648; _Faramond_, 1662.Mlle. de Scudery, _Ibrahim_, 1641; _Artamene_, 1649; _Clelie_, 1656;_Almahide_, 1660.

  [152] Cousin relieved his work on "The True, the Good, and theBeautiful" not only with elaborate disquisitions on the ladies of theFronde who, though certainly beautiful were not very very good, but witha long exposition of French society as revealed in the _Grand Cyrus_itself.

  [153] Scudery bore, and evidently rejoiced in, this sounding title,which can never have had a titular to whom it was more appropriate. Theplace seems to have been an actual fortress, though a small one, nearMarseilles.

  [154] I blushed for my namesake when I found, some time afterwards, thathe had copied this unusual (save in German) feminisation of the sun fromGomberville (_v. inf._ p. 240).

  [155] That is classical education: in comparison with which "all othersis cagmaggers."

  [156] I have wavered a little between adopting French or Greek forms ofnames. But as the authors are not consistent, and as some of their morefanciful compounds classicalise badly, I have finally decided to stickto the text in every case, except in those of historical persons whereFrench forms such as "Pisistrate" would jar.

  [157] Like Robina in _Mrs. Lirriper's Legacy_.

  [158] There are ten parts, each divisible into two _volumes_ and threebooks. There is also a division at the end of the fifth "part" and thetenth volume, the first five (ten) having apparently been issuedtogether. The "parts" are continuously paged--running never, I think, toless than 1000 pages and more than once to a little over 1400.

  [159] Drama may have done harm here, if those dramatic critics who saythat you must never "puzzle the audience" are right. The happynovel-reader is of less captious mood and mould: he trusts his authorand hopes his author will pull him through.

  [160] Some exception in the way of occasional flashes may be made fortwo lively maids of honour to be mentioned later, Martesie and Doralise.

  [161] There is an immense "throw-back" after the Sinope affair, in whichthe previous history of Artamene and the circumstances of Mandane'sabduction are recounted up to date--I hope that some readers at leastwill not have forgotten the introduction of Lancelot to Guinevere. Wehave here the Middle Age and the _Grand Siecle_ like philippines in anutshell.

  [162] To understand the account, it must be remembered that the combattakes place in a position secluded from the two armies and strictlyforbidden to lookers-on; also that it is to be absolutely _a outrance_.

  [163] It is not perhaps extravagant to suggest that Sir Walter hadsomething of this fight, as well as of the _Combat des Trente_, in hismind when he composed the famous record of the Clan Chattan and ClanQuhele battle.

  [164] Praed's delightful Medora might have found the practice of the_Grand Cyrus_ rather oppressive; but she would have thoroughly approvedits principles.

  [165] He is King of Cappadocia now, Astyages being alive; and onlysucceeds to Media later. It must never be forgotten that the_Cyropaedia_, not Herodotus, is the chief authority relied upon by theauthors, though they sometimes mix the two.

  [166] There is a very great physical resemblance between the two, andthis plays an important and repeated part in the book.

  [167] The King of Assyria, the King of Pontus, and the later Aryante(_v. inf._). The fourth is the "good Rival" Mazare, who, though he alsois at one time in possession of the prize, and though he never is wearyof "loving unloved," is too honourable a gentleman to force hisattentions on an unwilling mistress.

  [168] It is probably, however, not quite fair to leave the reader, evenfor a time, under the impression that it is _merely_ an excursion. Ofall the huge and numerous loop-lines, backwaters, ramifications,reticulations, episodes, or whatever they may be called, there is hardlyone which has not a real connection with the general plot; and theappearance of Thomyris here has such connection (as will be duly seen)in a capital and vital degree.

  [169] Some readers no doubt will not need to be reminded that this isthe original title of _The Marriage of Kitty_,--literally "gangway," butin the sense of "makeshift" or "_locum tenens_."

  [170] Cf. John Hey
wood's Interlude of _Love_. These stories also remindone of the short romances noticed above.

  [171] No gentleman, of course, could refuse a challenge pure and simple,unless in very peculiar circumstances; but hardly Sir Lucius O'Triggeror Captain M'Turk would oblige a friend to enter into this curious kindof bargain.

  [172] Another instance of the astonishing interweaving of the bookoccurs here; for here is the first mention of Sappho and other personsand things to be caught up sooner or later.

  [173] Such knowledge as I have of the other romances of the "heroic"group shows them to be, with the possible exception of those of LaCalprenede, inferior in this respect, even allowing for the influence ofthe _Cyropaedia_.

  [174] An extract may be worth giving in a note: "For the rest, if thereis anybody who is not acquainted enough with all my authors [_this is avery delightful sweep over literature_] to know what was the Ring ofGyges which is spoken of in this volume, let him not imagine that it isAngelica's, with which I chose to adorn Artamene; and let him, on thecontrary, know that it was Ariosto who stole this famous ring which gavehis Paladins so much trouble; that _he_ took it from those great menwhom I am obliged to follow" [_a sweep of George's plumed hat in thebest Molieresque marquis style to Herodotus, Xenophon, and Cicero (whocomes in shortly) and the others_].

  [175] The opening sentences of this _Histoire_ give a curious picture ofthe etiquette of these spoken narrative episodes, which, from theletters and memoirs of the time, we can see to have been actuallypractised in the days of _Precieuse_ society. [_The story is not ofcourse delivered in the presence of Panthea herself; but she sends aconfidante, Pherenice, to tell it._] "They were no sooner in Araminta'sapartment than, after having made Cyrus sit down, and placed Phereniceon a seat opposite to them, she begged her to begin her narrative andnot to hide from them, if it were possible, the smallest thought ofAbradates and Panthea. Accordingly this agreeable person, having madethem a compliment so as to ask their pardon for the scanty art shebrought to the story she was going to tell, actually began as follows:"

  [176] Observe how _vague_ what follows is. A scholar and a _modiste_,working in happiest conjunction, might possibly "create" the dress; butas for the face it might be any one out of those on one hundredchocolate-boxes.

  [177] This passage gives a key to the degradation of the word "elegant."It has kept the connotation of "grace," but lost that of "nobility."

  [178] _Abstracts_ of all the principal members of this group and othersoccurred in the _Bibliotheque Universelle des Romans_, which appeared asa periodical at Paris in 1778. But what I do not know is whether any oneever arranged an elaborate tabular syllabus of the book like that ofBurton's _Anatomy_. It would lend itself admirably to the process if anyone had time and inclination to do the thing.

  [179] With the exception, already noted, of Urfe; and even he is farbelow Donne.

  [180] There were, though not many, actual instances of capitalpunishment for disregard of the edicts against duelling, andimprisonment was common. But the deterrent effect was very small.Montmorency-Bouteville was the best-known victim.

  [181] It is amusing, as one reads this, to remember Hume's essay inwhich he lays stress on the _contrast_ between Greek and French ideas inthis very matter of the duel.

  [182] A curious and rather doubtful position; well worth theconsideration of anybody who wishes to write the much-wanted _Historyand Philosophy of Duelling_.

  [183] The author uses "Prince," as indeed one might expect, rather inthe Continental than in the English way, and the persons who bear it arenot always sons of kings or members of reigning families. The two mostagreeable _quiproquos_ arising from this difference are probably thefictitious unwillingness of the excellent Miss Higgs to descend from"Princesse de Montcontour" to "Duchesse d'Ivry," and the, it is said,historical contempt of a comparatively recent Papal dignitary for anEnglish Roman Catholic document which had no Princes among thesignatories.

  [184] Nobody, unless I forget, has the wisdom to put thecounter-question, "Can you ever cease loving if you have once reallyloved?" which is to be carefully distinguished from a third, "Can youlove more than once?" But there are more approaches to these _arcana_ inthe _Astree_ than in Mlle. de Scudery.

  [185] A very nice phrase.

  [186] He had refused to cross swords with her, and had lowered his ownin salute.

  [187] Compare the not quite so ingenious adjustment of the intendedburning of Croesus.

  [188] _Clelie_ is about as bad in this respect, _v. inf._: the othersless so.

  [189] I have said that you _can_ do this with the _Astree_, and thatthis makes for superiority in it: but there also I think absolutelycontinuous reading of the whole would become "collar-work."

  [190] That is to say, several weeks occupied in the manner aboveindicated. You may sometimes read two of the volumes in a day, but muchoftener you will find one enough; in the actual process for the presenthistory some intervals must be allowed for digestion and _precis_; and,as above remarked, if other forms of "cheerfulness," in Dr. Johnson'sfriend Mr. Edwards's phrase, do not "break in" of themselves, you mustmake them, to keep any freshness in the task. I fancy the twenty volumeswere, if not "my _sole_ occupation" (like that more cheerful andcharitable one of the head-waiter at Limmer's), my main one for nearlytwice twenty days.

  [191] In this respect the remarks above extend backwards to the_Astree_, and even to some of the smaller and earlier novels mentionedin connection with it. But the "Heroics," especially Mlle. de Scudery,_modernise_ the treatment not inconsiderably.

  [192] Achilles Tatius and the author of _Hysminias and Hysmine_ comenearest. But the first is too ancient and the last too modern.

  [193] We have indeed endeavoured to discover a "form" of the greatestand best kind in the Arthurian, but it has been acknowledged that it maynot have been deliberately reached--or approached--by even a singleartist, and that, if it was, the identity of that artist is not quitecertain.

  [194] The intolerance of anything but scraps is one of the numerous armsand legs of the twentieth century Baal. There are some who have notbowed down to it.

  [195] For Soliman is not indisposed to fall in love with his illustriousBassa's beloved.

  [196] At the close of _Old Mortality_.

  [197] One is lost if one begins quoting from these books. But there isanother passage at the end of the same volume worth glancing at for itsoddity. It is an elaborate chronological "checking" of the age of thedifferent characters; and, odd as it is, one cannot help rememberingthat not a few authors from Walter Map (or whoever it was) to Thackeraymight have been none the worse for similar calculations.

  [198] It is not, I hope, frivolous or pusillanimous, but merely honest,to add that, as I have spent much less time on _Clelie_ than on theother book, it has had less opportunity of boring me.

  [199] Cf. the _Astree_ as noted above.

  [200] He also wrote several plays.

  [201] This would supply the ghost of Varus with a crushing answer to"Give me back my legions!" in such form as "Why did you send me withthem?"

  [202] At another time there might have been a little gentle satire inthis, but hardly then.

  [203] It would seem, however, that the Scuderys were not originallyNorman.

  [204] Chateaubriand hardly counts in strictness.

  [205] Although some say that almost every one of the numerous _personae_of the _Astree_ had a live original.

  [206] These books, having been constantly referred to in this fashion,offer a good many traps, into some of which I have fallen in the past,and may have done so even now. For instance, Koerting rightly points outthat almost every one calls this "_La_ Jeune Alcidiane," whereas A. isthe hero, who bears his mother's name.

  [207] I had made this remark before I knew that Koerting had anticipatedit.

  [208] The more recent books which refer to him, and (I think) theBritish Museum Catalogue, drop this addition. But he was admittedly ofthe Pontcarre family.

  [209] Neither the original,
however, nor this revision seems to haveenjoyed the further honour of a place in the British Museum. Other booksof his which at least sound novelish were _Darie_, _Aristandre_,_Diotrephe_, _Cleoreste_ (of which as well as of _Palombe_ analyses maybe found in Koerting). The last would seem to be the most interesting.But in the bibliography of the Bishop's writings there are at least adozen more titles of the same kind.

  [210] Cf. the "self-precipitation" of Celadon. Perhaps no class ofwriters has ever practised "imitation," in the wrong sense, more thanthese "heroic" romancers.

  [211] I am glad to find the high authority of my friend Sir SidneyColvin on my side here as to the wider position--though he tells me thathe was not, when he read _Endimion_, conscious of any positiveindebtedness on Keats' part.

  [212] _V. sup._ p. 177, note 3.

  [213] Gombauld seems to have been a devotee of both Queens: andcommentators will have it that this whole book is courtship as well ascourtiership in disguise.

  [214] A kind of intermediary nymph--an enchantress indeed--who hasassisted and advised him in his quests for the goddess.

  [215] Emile Magne, _Mme. de V._, Paris, 1907.

  [216] This sometimes causes positive obscurity as to fact. Thus it isimpossible to make out from M. Magne whether Hortense, in her last days,actually married the cousin with whom she had been intimate in youth, ormerely lived with him.

  [217] By M. H. E. Chatenet, Paris, 1911.

  [218] There is a little in the verse, most of which belongs to the"flying" kind so common in the century.

  [219] _V. inf._ upon it.

  [220] His own admirable introduction to Perrault in the Clarendon Pressseries will, as far as our subject is directly concerned, supplywhatever a reader, within reason further curious, can want: and hiswell-known rainbow series of Fairy Books will give infiniteillustration.

  [221] The longest of all, in the useful collection referred to in thetext, are the _Oiseau Bleu_ and the charming _Biche au Bois_, each ofwhich runs to nearly sixty pages. But both, though very agreeable, aredistinctly "sophisticated," and for that very reason useful as gangways,as it were, from the simpler fairy tale to the complete novel.

  [222] Enchanters, ogres, etc. "count" as fairies.

  [223] Apuleius, who has a good deal of the "fairy" element in him, wasnaturally drawn upon in this group. The _Psyche_ indebtedness reappears,with frank acknowledgment, in _Serpentin Vert_.

  [224] If Perrault really wrote this, the Muses, rewarding him elsewherefor the good things he said in "The Quarrel," must have punished himhere for the silly ones. It has, in fact, most of the faults which_neo_-classicism attributed to its opposite.

  [225] For a spoiling of this delightful story _v. inf._ on the_Cabinet_.

  [226] Its full title, "ou Collection Choisie des C. des F. _et autresContes Merveilleux_," should in justice be remembered, when one feelsinclined to grumble at some of the contents.

  [227] This indeed was the case, in one or other kind of longer fictionwriting, with most of the authors to be mentioned. The total of this inthe French eighteenth century was enormous.

  [228] She is even preceded by a Mme. de Murat, a friend of Mme. deParabere, but a respectable fairy-tale writer. It does not seemnecessary, according to the plan of this book, to give many particularsabout these writers; for it is their writings, not themselves, that oursubject regards. The curious may be referred to Walckenaer on the FairyTale in general, and Honore Bonhomme on the _Cabinet_ in particular, aswell as (_v. inf._) to the thirty-seventh volume of the collectionitself.

  [229] There is sometimes alliance and sometimes jealousy on thissubject. In one tale the "Comte de Gabalis" is solemnly "had up," tried,and condemned as an impostor.

  [230] _Ricdin-Ricdon_, one of those which pass between Coeur de Lion andBlondel, is of the same kind, is also good, and is longer.

  [231] She seems, however (see vol. 37 as above), to have been a realperson.

  [232] The would-be anonymous compiler (he was really Gueulette, on whom_v. inf._) of this and the other collections now to be noticed, whenacknowledging his sufficiently evident _supercherie_ and some of hisindebtednesses (_e.g._ to Straparola), defends this on Edgeworthianprinciples. But though it is quite true that a healthy curiosity as tosuch things may be aroused by tales, it should be left to satisfyitself, not forestalled and spoilt and stunted by immediate information.

  [233] The once very popular _Tales of the Genii_ (_v. inf._) which areoften referred to by Scott and other men of his generation, seem to havedropped out of notice comparatively. We shall meet them here in French.

  [234] The late Mr. Henley was at one time much interested in this point,and consulted me about it. But I could tell him nothing; and I do notknow whether he ever satisfied himself on the subject. Lesage _is_ said(though I am not sure that the evidence goes beyond _on dit_) to haverevised the work of Petis de La Croix in the _Days_; and some of his owncertainly corresponds to it.

  [235] Or, as it was once put, with easy epigram, when the artificialfairy tale is not dreadfully improper it is apt to be dreadfully proper.

  [236] Nothing suits the entire group better than the reply of theferocious and sleepless but not unintelligent Sultan Hudgiadge, in the_Nouveaux Contes Orientaux_, when his little benefactress Moradbak saysthat she will have the honour to-morrow of telling him a _histoireMongole_. "Le pays n'y fait rien," says he. And it doesn't.

  [237] All of them, be it remembered, the work of Gueulette (_v. inf._).

  [238] The recently recovered "episodes" of this are rather more like the_Cabinet_ stories than _Vathek_ itself; and perhaps a sense of this mayhave been part of the reason why Beckford never published them.

  [239] He came to ask, or rather demand, Zibeline's hand for his master:and the fairy made his magnificence appear rags and rubbish.

  [240] Mr. Toots's "I'm a-a-fraid you must have got very wet." WhenCourtebotte returns from his expedition, across six months of snow, tothe Ice Mountain on the top of which rests Zibeline's heart, "manythousand persons" ask him, "_Vous avez donc eu bien froid?_"

  [241] She is also said to have been a "love-child" of no less a fatherthan Prince Eugene.

  [242] Anybody who is curious as to this should look up the matter, asmay be done most conveniently in an _excursus_ of Napier's edition,where my "friend of" [more than] "forty years," the late Mr. MowbrayMorris, in a note to his own admirable one-volume "Globe" issue, thoughtthat Macaulay was "proved to be absolutely right." Morris, though hispublished and signed writings were few, and though he pushed to its veryfurthest the hatred of personal advertisement natural to most English"_gentlemen_ of the press," was a man of the world and of letters inmost unusual combination; of a true Augustan taste both in criticism andin composition; of wit and of _savoir vivre_ such as few possess. But,like all men who are good for anything, he had some crazes: and one ofthem was Macaulay. I own that I do not think all the honours were on T.B. M.'s side in this mellay: but this is not the place to reason out thematter. What is quite certain is that in this long-winded and mostlytrivial performance there is a great deal of intended, or at leastsuggested, political satire. But Johnson, though he might well thinklittle of _Titi_, need not have despised the whole _Cabinet_ (or as hecalls it, perhaps using the real title of another issue,_Bibliotheque_), and would not on another occasion. Indeed thediary-notes in which the thing occurs are too much in shorthand to betrustworthy texts.

  [243] Pierre Francois Godard de Beauchamps seems to have been anotherfair example of the half-scholarly bookmakers of the eighteenth century.He wrote a few light plays and some serious _Recherches sur les Theatresde France_ which are said to have merit. He translated the late andcoxcombical but not uninteresting Greek prose romance of _Hysminias andHysmine_, as well as that painful verse-novel, the _Rhodanthe andDosicles_ of Theodoras Prodromus: and he composed, under a pseudonym, ofcourse, a naughty _Histoire du Prince Apprius_ to match his good_Funestine_. The contrasted ways and works of such bookmakers at varioustimes would make a not uninteresting ess
ay of the Hayward type.

  [244] "Engageant," "Adresse," "Parlepeu," etc. The _Avertissement del'Auteur_ is possibly a joke, but more probably an awkward and miss-fire_supercherie_ revealing the usual ignorance of the time as to mattersmediaeval. "Alienore" (though it would be better without the final _e_)is a pretty as well as historic form of one of the most beautiful andprotean of girl's names: but how did her father, a "seigneur _anglais_,"come to be called "Rivalon Murmasson"? And did they know much aboutArabia Felix in Brittany when "Daniel Dremruz" reigned there betweenA.D. 680 and 720? Gueulette himself was a barrister andProcureur-Substitut at the Chatelet. He seems to have imitated Hamilton,to whom the editors of the Cabinet rather idly think him "equal,"though, inconsistently, they admit that Hamilton "stands alone" andGueulette does not. On the other hand, they charge Voltaire withactually "tracing" over Gueulette. ("_Zadig_ est calque sur les _SoireesBretonnes_.") This is again an exaggeration; but Gueulette had,undoubtedly, a pleasant and exceedingly fertile fancy, and a good knackof narrative.

  [245] The best perhaps is of a certain peppery Breton, Saint-Foix, whowas successively a mousquetaire, a lieutenant of cavalry, aide-de-campto "Broglie the War-god," and a long-lived _litterateur_ in Paris. M. deSaint-Foix picked a quarrel in the _foyer_ of the opera with an unknowncountry gentleman, as it seemed, and "gave him a rendezvous." But theother party replied coolly that it "was his custom" to be called on ifpeople had business with him, and gave his address. Saint-Foix goes nextmorning, and is received with the utmost politeness and asked tobreakfast. "That's not the question," says the indignant Breton. "Let usgo out." "I never go out without breakfasting; _it is my custom_," saysthe provincial, and does as he says, politely repeating invitations fromtime to time to his fretting adversary. At last they do go out, toSaint-Foix's great relief; but they pass a _cafe_, and it is once morethe stranger's sacred custom to play a game of chess or draughts afterbreakfast. The same thing happens with a "turn" in the Tuileries, atwhich Saint-Foix does not fume quite so much, because it is on the wayto the Champs Elysees, where fighting is possible. The "turn" achieved,he himself proposes to adjourn there. "What for?" says the strangerinnocently. "What _for_? A pretty question _pardieu_! To fight, ofcourse! Have you forgotten it?" "_Fight!_ Why, sir, what are youthinking of? What would people say of me? A magistrate, a treasurer ofFrance, put sword in hand? They would take us for a couple of fools."Which argument being unanswerable, according to the etiquette of thetime, Saint-Foix leaves the dignitary--who himself takes good care totell the story. It must be remembered--first that no actual _challenge_had passed, merely an ambiguous demand for addresses; secondly, that thetreasurer, as the superior by far in rank, had a right to supposehimself known to his inferiors; and thirdly, that to challenge a"magistrate" was in France equivalent to being, in the words of alampoon quoted by Macaulay, "'Gainst ladies and bishops excessivelyvaliant" in England.

  [246] Although there is a good deal of merit in some of these tales,none of them approaches the charming _Diable Amoureux_ which Cazotteproduced in 1772, twenty years before his famous and tragical deathafter once escaping the Revolutionary fangs. This little story, which isat least as much of a fairy tale as many things "cabinetted," would benearly perfect if Cazotte had not unluckily botched it with a doubleending, neither of the actual closes being quite satisfactory. If, inone of them, he had had the pluck to stop at the outcry of the succubusBiondetta when she has at last attained her object,

  "Je suis le diable! mon cher Alvare, je suis le diable!"

  and let the rest be "wrop in mystery," it would probably have been thebest way. But the bulk of the book is beyond improvement: and there is afluid grace about the autobiographical _recit_ which is very rareindeed, at least in French, except in the unfortunate Gerard de Nerval,who was akin to Cazotte in many ways, and actually edited him. A verycarping critic may object to the not obvious nor afterwards explainedinterposition of a pretty little spaniel between the original diabolicavatar of the hideous camel's head and the subsequent incarnation of thebeautiful Biondetto-Biondetta; especially as the later employment ofanother dog, to prevent Alvare's succumbing to temptation earlier thanhe did, is confusing. But this would be "seeking a knot in a reed."Perhaps the greatest merit of the story, next to the pure tale-tellingcharm above noted, is the singular taste and skill with which Biondetta,except for her repugnance to the marriage ceremony, is prevented fromshowing the slightest diabolic character during her long cohabitationwith Alvare, and her very "comingnesses" are arranged so as to give theidea, not in the least of a temptress, but of an extra-innocent butquite natural _ingenue_. Monk Lewis, of course, knew Cazotte, but he hascoarsened his original woefully. It may perhaps be added that the firstillustrations, reproduced in Gerard's edition as curiosities, are suchin the highest degree. They are ushered with an ironic Preface: and theysometimes make one rub one's eyes and wonder whether Futurism and Cubismare not, like so many other things, merely recooked cabbage.