No More Learning

On the front he inscribed, "Do
what thou wilt; " thus answering the old cry of the Dominican Izarn


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at the stake of the Albigeois, "Believe as you do, and you shall be
burned. " Rabelais is a powerful emancipator of modern thought, and
the natural ancestor of the Voltaires and the Diderots.
But he is at the same time a great and incomparable artist. He
had the gift of creating types and the power of creating a language.
A key to Rabelais has been made and remade twenty times: the
commentators have striven to attach a historic name to every char-
acter. According to the usual opinion, Grangousier is Louis XII. ;
Gargantua, Francis I. ; Pantagruel, Henry II. ; Picrochole, either Maxi-
milien Sforza, Ferdinand of Aragon, or Charles V. ; Brother Jean, the
Cardinal du Bellay; Panurge, the Cardinal of Lorraine, or the
author himself. It singularly lessens and lowers Rabelais to reduce
him to the rôle of a contemporary portrait painter; and thus doing,
one understands nothing of the essence or the scope of his work.
The truth is that Rabelais's imagination transformed the matter
upon which it worked, brought out its essential features,- the figures
worthy of preservation, and composed those imperishable types,
mixtures of fancy and truth, which, rooted in their own time, reach
to the most distant future. And Rabelais is not only an epic genius:
he is also the first of the great comic poets of France. Before Cor-
neille and Molière, no author possessed to such a degree the sense
of action, the art of scenic effect, and that of writing dialogue. The
meeting of Pantagruel and the Limousin student, the visit to Ron-
dibilis, the bargain with Dindenant, the consultation of Panurge with
the philosopher Trouillogan, are scenes of the most living comedy.
Finally, his style, like his thought, is magnificent in contrasts,
in exuberance, in fancy and profoundness, lights and shadows. It
has the opulence of Rubens, the irony of Callot, the sublimity of
Rembrandt. The sentence, capricious and unrestrained, is curiously
chiseled, clear, and finished; it is embellished and embroidered at
pleasure, like the ornamental stone of the Gothic monuments under
the hands of the great artists of the Middle Ages. The vocabulary,
one of unequaled wealth, is a heap of diamonds and of waste matter
for the future to sort out. The syntax is a curious one: complex, mul-
tiform, sheathed in Latin, not quite emancipated from dialect, but
already singularly flexible, agile, undulating; realistic or lyrical, bru-
tal or winged, at his will. Finally, it is French language forged and
shaped from pure Latin and Romance metal, with great blows of the
hammer, by the first, and most vigorous of its workers of genius.
Every great French writer proceeds from Rabelais, as every great
Italian writer proceeds from Dante.
Such is this strong and jovial figure, both comic and serious, like
the spectacle of life itself. Great philosopher, great artist, and great
author, Rabelais compels the admiration of the centuries — in spite
-
-


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FRANÇOIS RABELAIS
of his masks, voluntarily coarse and jocose- as the first complete
type of French genius; of the genius of tolerance, of liberty, of gen-
erous irony, which since Rabelais, and from century to century, has
given us Molière, Voltaire and Diderot, Balzac and Hugo.
Henry Bevingen
THE CHILDHOOD OF GARGANTUA
From The Inestimable Life of the Great Gargantua
G
ARGANTUA, from three years to five, was nourished and in-
structed in all proper discipline by the commandment of
his father, and spent that time like the other little child-
ren of the country,- that is, in drinking, eating, and sleeping;
in eating, sleeping, and drinking; and in sleeping, drinking, and
eating. Still he wallowed in the mire, blackened his face, trod
down his shoes at heel; at the flies he did oftentimes yawn, and
willingly ran after the butterflies, the empire whereof belonged
to his father. He sharpened his teeth with a slipper, washed his
hands with his broth, combed his head with a bowl, sat down
between two stools and came to the ground, covered himself
with a wet sack, drank while eating his soup, ate his cake with-
out bread, would bite in laughing, laugh in biting, hide himself
in the water for fear of rain, go cross, fall into dumps, look de-
mure, skin the fox, say the ape's paternoster, return to his sheep,
turn the sows into the hay, beat the dog before the lion, put the
cart before the horse, scratch where he did not itch, shoe the
grasshopper, tickle himself to make himself laugh, know flies in
milk, scrape paper, blur parchment, then run away, pull at the
kid's leather, reckon without his host, beat the bushes without
catching the birds, and thought that bladders were lanterns. He
always looked a gift-horse in the mouth, hoped to catch larks
if ever the heavens should fall, and made a virtue of necessity.
Every morning his father's puppies ate out of the dish with him,
and he with them. He would bite their ears, and they would
scratch his nose.
The good man Grangousier said to Gargantua's governesses:-
"Philip, King of Macedon, knew the wit of his son Alexander,


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by his skillful managing of a horse; for the said horse was so
fierce and unruly that none durst adventure to ride him, because
he gave a fall to all his riders, breaking the neck of this man,
the leg of that, the brain of one, and the jawbone of another.
This by Alexander being considered, one day in the hippodrome
(which was a place appointed for the walking and running of
horses) he perceived that the fury of the horse proceeded merely
from the fear he had of his own shadow; whereupon, getting on
his back he ran him against the sun, so that the shadow fell
behind, and by that means tamed the horse and brought him to
his hand. Whereby his father recognized the divine judgment
that was in him, and caused him most carefully to be instructed
by Aristotle, who at that time was highly renowned above all the
philosophers of Greece. After the same manner I tell you, that
as regards my son Gargantua, I know that his understanding
doth participate of some divinity,— so keen, subtle, profound, and
clear do I find him; and if he be well taught, he will attain to a
sovereign degree of wisdom. Therefore will I commit him to.
some learned man, to have him indoctrinated according to his
capacity, and will spare no cost. "
Whereupon they appointed him a great sophister-doctor, called
Maître Tubal Holophernes, who taught him his A B C so well
that he could say it by heart backwards; and about this he was
five years and three months. Then read he to him Donat,
Facet, Theodolet, and Alanus in parabolis. About this he was
thirteen years, six months, and two weeks. But you must remark
that in the mean time he did learn to write in Gothic characters,
and that he wrote all his books,- for the art of printing was not
then in use. After that he read unto him the book 'De Modis
Significandi,' with the commentaries of Hurtebise, of Fasquin, of
Tropditeux, of Gaulehaut, of John le Veau, of Billonio, of Brelin-
gandus, and a rabble of others; and herein he spent more than
eighteen years and eleven months, and was so well versed in it
that at the examination he would recite it by heart backwards,
and did sometimes prove on his fingers to his mother quod de
modis significandi non erat scientia. Then did he read to him
the 'Compost,' on which he spent sixteen years and two months,
and that justly at the time his said preceptor died, which was
in the year one thousand four hundred and twenty. Afterwards
he got another old fellow with a cough to teach him, named
Maître Jobelin Bridé, who read unto him Hugutio, Hebrard's


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FRANÇOIS RABELAIS
'Grécisme,' the Doctrinal,' the 'Parts,' the 'Quid Est,' the
'Supplementum'; Marmotret 'De Moribus in Mensa Servandis';
Seneca De Quatuor Virtutibus Cardinalibus'; Passavantus 'Cum
Commento and Dormi Securé,' for the holidays; and some
other of such-like stuff, by reading whereof he became as wise
as any we have ever baked in an oven.
At the last his father perceived that indeed he studied hard,
and that although he spent all his time in it, he did neverthe-
less profit nothing, but which is worse, grew thereby foolish, sim-
ple, doted, and blockish: whereof making a heavy regret to
Don Philip des Marays, Viceroy of Papeligosse, he found that
it were better for him to learn nothing at all than to be taught
such-like books under such schoolmasters; because their knowl-
edge was nothing but brutishness, and their wisdom but toys,
bastardizing good and noble spirits and corrupting the flower of
youth. "That it is so, take," said he, "any young boy of the
present time, who hath only studied two years: if he have not a
better judgment, a better discourse, and that expressed in better
terms, than your son, with a completer carriage and civility to
all manner of persons, account me forever a chawbacon of La
Brène. "
(
This pleased Grangousier very well, and he commanded that
it should be done. At night at supper, the said Des Marays
brought in a young page of his from Ville-gouges, called Eude-
mon, so well combed, so well dressed, so well brushed, so sweet
in his behavior, that he resembled a little angel more than a
human creature. Then he said to Grangousier, "Do you see
this child? He is not as yet full twelve years old. Let us try,
if it pleaseth you, what difference there is betwixt the knowledge
of the doting dreamers of old time and the young lads that are
now. "
The trial pleased Grangousier, and he commanded the page
to begin. Then Eudemon, asking leave of the viceroy, his mas-
ter, so to do, with his cap in his hand, a clear and open coun-
tenance, ruddy lips, his eyes steady, and his looks fixed upon
Gargantua, with a youthful modesty, stood up straight on his
feet and began to commend and magnify him, first, for his vir-
tue and good manners; secondly, for his knowledge; thirdly,
for his nobility; fourthly, for his bodily beauty; and in the
fifth place, sweetly exhorted him to reverence his father with all
observancy, who was so careful to have him well brought up.


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In the end he prayed him that he would vouchsafe to admit of
him amongst the least of his servants; for other favor at that
time desired he none of heaven, but that he might do him some
grateful and acceptable service.
All this was by him delivered with gestures so proper, pro-
nunciation so distinct, a voice so eloquent, language so well
turned, and in such good Latin, that he seemed rather a Grac-
chus, a Cicero, an Æmilius of the time past, than a youth of
his age.
But all the countenance that Gargantua kept was, that
he fell to crying like a cow, and cast down his face, hiding it
with his cap; nor could they possibly draw one word from him.
Whereat his father was so grievously vexed that he would have
killed Maître Jobelin; but the said Des Marays withheld him
from it by fair persuasions, so that at length he pacified his
wrath. Then Grangousier commanded he should be paid his
wages, that they should make him drink theologically, after which
he was to go to all the devils. "At least," said he, "to-day shall
it not cost his host much, if by chance he should die as drunk
as an Englishman. "
Maître Jobelin being gone out of the house, Grangousier con-
sulted with the viceroy what tutor they should choose for Gar-
gantua; and it was betwixt them resolved that Ponocrates, the
tutor of Eudemon, should have the charge, and that they should
all go together to Paris, to know what was the study of the
young men of France at that time.
THE EDUCATION OF GARGANTUA
[The mare on which Gargantua rode to Paris was as big as six elephants:
she was brought by sea in three corvettes and a brigantine. With the whisk-
ing of her tail she laid low a whole forest. Mounted on her, Gargantua was
received with great admiration by the Parisians, who, says Rabelais, are more
easily drawn together by a fiddler or a mule with bells than by an evangel-
ical preacher,-a peculiarity which they still preserve. The young giant re-
warded their admiration by carrying away the bells of Notre Dame to hang
round the neck of his mare. To recover these bells the Parisians sent their
most esteemed orator, Maître Janotus de Bragmardo, who came, like the Vice-
Chancellor of Cambridge, duly preceded by three bedells, and followed by
six Masters of Arts - Artless Masters, "Maistres Inerts,» Rabelais calls them.
His oration is a parody on the pretensions of the old-fashioned scholars, the
ostentatious parade of bad Latin, and the learned discourses of doctors. The
bells are restored and the orator rewarded. Then we leave the realms of


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FRANÇOIS RABELAIS
the miraculous and become human again. Gargantua ceases, except at inter-
vals, to be a giant; and Rabelais develops-it is the best, the wisest, the most
useful chapter of his book-his theory of what the education of a prince
should be. ]
Po
ONOCRATES appointed that for the beginning, he should do as
he had been accustomed; to the end he might understand
by what means, for so long a time, his old masters had
made him so foolish, simple, and ignorant. He disposed, there-
fore, of his time in such fashion that ordinarily he did awake
between eight and nine o'clock, whether it was day or not; for
so had his ancient governors ordained, alleging that which David
saith, Vanum est vobis ante lucem surgere. Then did he tumble
and wallow in the bed some time, the better to stir up his vital
spirits, and appareled himself according to the season; but will-
ingly he would wear a great long gown of thick frieze, lined
with fox fur. Afterwards he combed his head with the German
comb, which is the four fingers and the thumb; for his pre-
ceptors said that to comb himself otherwise, to wash and make
himself neat, was to lose time in this world.
Then to suppress
the dew and bad air, he breakfasted on fair fried tripe, fair
grilled meats, fair hams, fair hashed capon, and store of sippet
brewis. Ponocrates showed him that he ought not to eat so soon
after rising out of his bed, unless he had performed some exer-
cise beforehand. Gargantua answered: "What! have not I suffi-
ciently well exercised myself? I rolled myself six or seven turns
in my bed before I rose. Is not that enough? Pope Alexander
did so, by the advice of a Jew, his physician; and lived till his
dying day in despite of the envious. My first masters have used
me to it, saying that breakfast makes a good memory; where-
fore they drank first. I am very well after it, and dine but the
better. And Maître Tubal, who was the first licentiate at Paris,
told me that it is not everything to run a pace, but to set forth
well betimes: so doth not the total welfare of our humanity
depend upon perpetual drinking atas, atas, like ducks, but on
drinking well in the morning; whence the verse-
"To rise betimes is no good hour,
To drink betimes is better sure. > >>
After he had thoroughly broken his fast, he went to church;
and they carried for him, in a great basket, a huge breviary.
There he heard six-and-twenty or thirty masses. This while, to


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I 2011
the same place came his sayer of hours, lapped up about the
chin like a tufted whoop, and his breath perfumed with good
store of syrup.
With him he mumbled all his kyriels, which he
so curiously picked that there fell not so much as one grain to
the ground. As he went from the church, they brought him,
upon a dray drawn by oxen, a heap of paternosters of Sanct
Claude, every one of them being of the bigness of a hat-block;
and thus walking through the cloisters, galleries, or garden, he
said more in turning them over than sixteen hermits would have
done. Then did he study for some paltry half-hour with his
eyes fixed upon his book; but as the comic saith, his mind was
in the kitchen. Then he sat down at table; and because he was
naturally phlegmatic, he began his meal with some dozens of
hams, dried neats' tongues, mullet's roe, chitterlings, and such
other forerunners of wine. In the meanwhile, four of his folks
did cast into his mouth, one after another continually, mustard
by whole shovelfuls. Immediately after that he drank a horrific
draught of white wine for the ease of his kidneys. When that
was done, he ate according to the season meat agreeable to his
appetite, and then left off eating when he was like to crack for
fulness. As for his drinking, he had neither end nor rule. For
he was wont to say, that the limits and bounds of drinking were
when the cork of the shoes of him that drinketh swelleth up half
a foot high.
Then heavily mumbling a scurvy grace, he washed his hands
in fresh wine, picked his teeth with the foot of a pig, and talked
jovially with his attendants. Then the carpet being spread, they
brought great store of cards, dice, and chessboards.
After having well played, reveled, passed and spent his time,
it was proper to drink a little, and that was eleven goblets the
man; and immediately after making good cheer again, he would
stretch himself upon a fair bench, or a good large bed, and there
sleep two or three hours together without thinking or speaking
any hurt.
After he was awakened he would shake his ears a
little. In the mean time they brought him fresh wine. Then he
drank better than ever. Ponocrates showed him that it was an
ill diet to drink so after sleeping. "It is," answered Gargantua,
"the very life of the Fathers; for naturally I sleep salt, and my
sleep hath been to me instead of so much ham. " Then began he
to study a little, and the paternosters first, which the better and
more formally to dispatch, he got up on an old mule which had


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FRANÇOIS RABELAIS
served nine kings; and so mumbling with his mouth, doddling
his head, would go see a coney caught in a net. At his return
he went into the kitchen, to know what roast meat was on the
spit; and supped very well, upon my conscience, and commonly
did invite some of his neighbors that were good drinkers; with
whom carousing, they told stories of all sorts, from the old to the
new. After supper were brought in upon the place the fair
wooden gospels-that is to say, many pairs of tables and cards
—with little small banquets, intermined with collations and reer-
suppers. Then did he sleep without unbridling, until eight
o'clock in the next morning.
When Ponocrates knew Gargantua's vicious manner of living,
he resolved to bring him up in another kind; but for a while he
bore with him, considering that nature does not endure sudden
changes without great violence. Therefore, to begin his work
the better, he requested a learned physician of that time, called
Maître Theodorus, seriously to perpend, if it were possible, how
to bring Gargantua unto a better course. The said physician
purged him canonically with Anticyran hellebore, by which med-
icine he cleansed all the alteration and perverse habitude of his
brain. By this means also Ponocrates made him forget all that
he had learned under his ancient preceptors. To do this better,
they brought him into the company of learned men who were
there, in emulation of whom a great desire and affection came to
him to study otherwise, and to improve his parts. Afterwards he
put himself into such a train of study that he lost not any hour
in the day, but employed all his time in learning and honest
knowledge. Gargantua awaked then about four o'clock in the
morning. Whilst they were rubbing him, there was read unto
him some chapter of the Holy Scripture aloud and clearly, with
a pronunciation fit for the matter; and hereunto was appointed
a young page born in Basché, named Anagnostes. According
to the purpose and argument of that lesson, he oftentimes gave
himself to revere, adore, pray, and send up his supplications to
that good God whose word did show his majesty and marvelous
judgments. Then his master repeated what had been read, ex-
pounding unto him the most obscure and difficult points. They
then considered the face of the sky, if it was such as they had
observed it the night before, and into what signs the sun was
entering, as also the moon for that day. This done, he was
appareled, combed, curled, trimmed, and perfumed, during which


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12013
time they repeated to him the lessons of the day before. He
himself said them by heart, and upon them grounded practical
cases concerning the estate of man; which he would prosecute
sometimes two or three hours, but ordinarily they ceased as soon
as he was fully clothed. Then for three good hours there was
reading. This done, they went forth, still conferring of the sub-
stance of the reading, and disported themselves at ball, tennis, or
the pile trigone; gallantly exercising their bodies, as before they
had done their minds. All their play was but in liberty, for
they left off when they pleased; and that was commonly when
they did sweat, or were otherwise weary. Then were they very
well dried and rubbed, shifted their shirts, and walking soberly,
went to see if dinner was ready. Whilst they stayed for that,
they did clearly and eloquently recite some sentences that they
had retained of the lecture. In the mean time Master Appetite
came, and then very orderly sat they down at table. At the
beginning of the meal there was read some pleasant history of
ancient prowess, until he had taken his wine. Then if they
thought good, they continued reading, or began to discourse
merrily together; speaking first of the virtue, propriety, efficacy,
and nature of all that was served in at that table; of bread, of
wine, of water, of salt, of flesh, fish, fruits, herbs, roots, and of
their dressing. By means whereof, he learned in a little time all
the passages that on these subjects are to be found in Pliny,
Athenæus, Dioscorides, Julius Pollux, Galen, Porphyrius, Oppian,
Polybius, Heliodorus, Aristotle, Ælian, and others. Whilst they
talked of these things, many times, to be more the certain, they
caused the very books to be brought to the table; and so well
and perfectly did he in his memory retain the things above said,
that in that time there was not a physician that knew half so
much as he did. Afterwards they conferred of the lessons read
in the morning; and ending their repast with some conserve of
quince, he washed his hands and eyes with fair fresh water, and
gave thanks unto God in some fine canticle, made in praise of
the Divine bounty and munificence. This done, they brought in
cards, not to play, but to learn a thousand pretty tricks and new
inventions, which were all grounded upon arithmetic. By this
means he fell in love with that numerical science; and every
day after dinner and supper he passed his time in it as pleas-
antly as he was wont to do at cards and dice: so that at last he
understood so well both the theory and practice thereof, that


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FRANÇOIS RABELAIS
Tonstal the Englishman, who had written very largely of that
purpose, confessed that verily in comparison of him he under-
stood nothing but double Dutch; and not only in that, but in
the other mathematical sciences, as geometry, astronomy, music.
For while waiting for the digestion of his food, they made a
thousand joyous instruments and geometrical figures, and at the
same time practiced the astronomical canons.
After this they recreated themselves with singing musically,
in four or five parts, or upon a set theme, as it best pleased
them. In matter of musical instruments, he learned to the
lute, the spinet, the harp, the German flute, the flute with nine
holes, the violin, and the sackbut. This hour thus spent, he be-
took himself to his principal study for three hours together, or
more, as well to repeat his matutinal lectures as to proceed in
the book wherein he was; as also to write handsomely, to draw
and form the antique and Roman letters. This being done, they
went out of their house, and with them a young gentleman of
Touraine, named Gymnast, who taught him the art of riding.
Changing then his clothes, he mounted on any kind of a horse,
which he made to bound in the air, to jump the ditch, to leap
the palisade, and to turn short in a ring both to the right and
left hand. There he broke not his lance; for it is the great-
est foolishness in the world to say, I have broken ten lances at
tilts or in fight. A carpenter can do even as much. But it is
a glorious and praiseworthy action with one lance to break and
overthrow ten enemies. Therefore with a sharp, strong, and stiff
lance would he usually force a door, pierce a harness, uproot a
tree, carry away the ring, lift up a saddle, with the mail-coat.
and gauntlet. All this he did in complete arms from head to
foot. He was singularly skillful in leaping nimbly from one
horse to another without putting foot to ground. He could like-
wise from either side, with a lance in his hand, leap on horse-
back without stirrups, and rule the horse at his pleasure without
a bridle; for such things are useful in military engagements.
Another day he exercised the battle-axe, which he so dexterously
wielded that he was passed knight of arms in the field and at all
essays.
Then tossed he the pike, played with the two-handed sword,
with the back sword, with the Spanish tuck, the dagger, pon-
iard, armed, unarmed, with a buckler, with a cloak, with a target.
Then would he hunt the hart, the roebuck, the bear, the fallow


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12015
deer, the wild boar, the hare, the pheasant, the partridge, and
the bustard. He played at the great ball, and made it bound in
the air, both with fist and foot. He wrestled, ran, jumped, not
at three steps and a leap, nor a hopping, nor yet at the German
jump; "for," said Gymnast, "these jumps are for the wars alto-
gether unprofitable, and of no use:" but at one leap he would
skip over a ditch, spring over a hedge, mount six paces upon a
wall, climb after this fashion up against a window, the height of
a lance. He did swim in deep waters on his face, on his back,
sidewise, with all his body, with his feet only, with one hand in
the air, wherein he held a book, crossing thus the breadth of the
river Seine without wetting, and dragging along his cloak with
his teeth, as did Julius Cæsar; then with the help of one hand
he entered forcibly into a boat, from whence he cast himself
again headlong into the water, sounded the depths, hollowed the
rocks, and plunged into the pits and gulfs. Then turned he
the boat about, governed it, led it swiftly or slowly with the
stream and against the stream, stopped it in its course, guided
it with one hand, and with the other laid hard about him with
a huge great oar, hoisted the sail, hied up along the mast by
the shrouds, ran upon the bulwarks, set the compass, tackled the
bowlines, and steered the helm. Coming out of the water, he ran
furiously up against a hill, and with the same alacrity and swift-
ness ran down again. He climbed up trees like a cat, leaped
from the one to the other like a squirrel. He did pull down the
great boughs and branches, like another Milo: then with two
sharp well-steeled daggers, and two tried bodkins, would he run
up by the wall to the very top of a house like a rat; then sud-
denly come down from the top to the bottom, with such an even
disposal of members that by the fall he would catch no harm.
He did cast the dart, throw the bar, put the stone, practice
the javelin, the boar-spear or partisan, and the halbert. He
broke the strongest bows in drawing, bended against his breast
the greatest cross-bows of steel, took his aim by the eye with the
hand-gun, traversed the cannon; shot at the butts, at the pape-
gay, before him, sidewise, and behind him, like the Parthians.
They tied a cable-rope to the top of a high tower, by one end
whereof hanging near the ground he wrought himself with his
hands to the very top; then came down again so sturdily and
firmly that you could not on a plain meadow have run with
more assurance. They set up a great pole fixed upon two trees.


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There would he hang by his hands, and with them alone, his feet
touching at nothing, would go back and fore along the aforesaid
rope with so great swiftness, that hardly could one overtake him
with running.
Then to exercise his breast and lungs, he would shout like all
the devils. I heard him once call Eudemon from the Porte St.
Victor to Montmartre. Stentor never had such a voice at the
siege of Troy.
Then for the strengthening of his nerves, they made him two
great pigs of lead, each in weight 8,700 quintals. Those he took
up from the ground, in each hand one, then lifted them up over
his head, and held them so without stirring three quarters of an
hour or more, which was an inimitable force.
He fought at barriers with the stoutest; and when it came to
the cope, he stood so sturdily on his feet that he abandoned
himself unto the strongest, in case they could remove him from
his place, as Milo was wont to do of old,-in imitation of whom
he held a pomegranate in his hand, to give it unto him that
could take it from him.
The time being thus bestowed, and himself rubbed, cleansed,
and refreshed with other clothes, they returned fair and softly;
and passing through certain meadows, or other grassy places,
beheld the trees and plants, comparing them with what is writ-
ten of them in the books of the ancients, such as Theophrastus,
Dioscorides, Marinus, Pliny, Nicander, Macer, and Galen, and
carried home to the house great handfuls of them, whereof a
young page called Rhizotomos had charge - together with hoes,
picks, spuds, pruning-knives, and other instruments requisite for
herbarizing. Being come to their lodging, whilst supper was
making ready, they repeated certain passages of that which has
been read, and then sat down at table. Here remark, that his
dinner was sober and frugal, for he did then eat only to prevent
the gnawings of his stomach; but his supper was copious and
large, for he took then as much as was fit to maintain and
nourish him: which indeed is the true diet prescribed by the art
of good and sound physic, although a rabble of fond physicians
counsel the contrary. During that repast was continued the les-
son read at dinner as long as they thought good; the rest was
spent in good discourse, learned and profitable. After that they
had given thanks, they set themselves to sing musically, and play
upon harmonious instruments, or at those pretty sports made with


## p. 12017 (#51) ###########################################

FRANÇOIS RABELAIS
12017
cards, dice, or cups, thus made merry till it was time to go to
bed; and sometimes they would go make visits unto learned men,
or to such as had been travelers in strange countries. At full
night they went unto the most open place of the house to see
the face of the sky, and there beheld the comets, if any were, as
likewise the figures, situations, aspects, oppositions, and conjunc-
tions of the stars.
-
Then with his master did he briefly recapitulate, after the
manner of the Pythagoreans, that which he had read, seen,
learned, done, and understood in the whole course of that day.
Then prayed they unto God the Creator, falling down before
him, and strengthening their faith towards him, and glorifying
him for his boundless bounty; and giving thanks unto him for
the time that was past, they recommended themselves to his
Divine clemency for the future. Which being done, they entered
upon their repose.
If it happened that the weather were rainy and inclement,
the forenoon was employed according to custom, except that they
had a good clear fire lighted, to correct the distempers of the
air. But after dinner, instead of their wonted exercitations, they
did abide within, and by way of Apotherapie, did recreate them-
selves in bottling hay, in cleaving and sawing wood, and in
threshing sheaves of corn at the barn.
Then they studied the art of painting or carving; or brought
into use the antique game of knucklebones, as Leonicus hath
written of it, and as our good friend Lascaris playeth at it.
While playing, they examined the passages of ancient authors
wherein the said play is mentioned, or any metaphor drawn
from it.
They went likewise to see the drawing of metals, or the cast-
ing of great ordnance: they went to see the lapidaries, the gold-
smiths and cutters of precious stones, the alchemists, coiners
of money, upholsterers, weavers, velvet-workers, watchmakers,
looking-glass-makers, printers, organists, dyers, and other such
kind of artificers; and everywhere giving them wine, did learn
and consider the industry and invention of the trades.
They went also to hear the public lectures, the solemn Acts,
the repetitions, the declamations, the pleadings of the gentle law.
yers, and sermons of evangelical preachers.
He went through the halls and places appointed for fencing,
and there played against the masters of all weapons, and showed
them by experience that he knew as much in it as, yea, more
XXI-752


## p. 12018 (#52) ###########################################

12018
FRANÇOIS RABELAIS
than they. And instead of herbarizing, they visited the shops of
druggists, herbalists, and apothecaries, and diligently considered
the fruits, roots, leaves, gums, seeds, and strange unguents, as
also how they did compound them.
He went to see jugglers, tumblers, mountebanks, and quack-
salvers, and considered their cunning, their shifts, their summer-
saults, and their smooth tongues; especially of those of Chauny
in Picardy, who are naturally great praters, and brave gibers of
fibs, in manner of green apes.
At their return they did eat more soberly at supper than at
other times, and meats more desiccative and extenuating; to the
end that the intemperate moisture of the air, communicated to
the body by a necessary confinity, might by this means be cor-
rected, and that they might not receive any prejudice for want
of their ordinary bodily exercise.
Thus was Gargantua governed; and kept on in this course of
education, from day to day profiting, as you may understand
such a young man of good sense, with such discipline so contin-
ued, may do. Which, although at the beginning it seemed diffi-
cult, became a little after so sweet, so easy, and so delightful,
that it seemed rather the recreation of a king than the study of a
scholar. Nevertheless, Ponocrates, to divert him from this vehe-
ment intention of spirit, thought fit, once in a month, upon some
fair and clear day, to go out of the city betimes in the morn-
ing, either towards Gentilly or Boulogne, or to Montrouge, or
Charenton-bridge, or to Vanves, or St. Cloud, and there spend
all the day long in making the greatest cheer that could be
devised; sporting, making merry, drinking healths, playing, sing-
ing, dancing, tumbling in some fair meadow, unnestling of spar-
rows, taking of quails, and fishing for frogs and crayfish. But
though that day was passed without books or lecture, yet was it
not spent without profit; for in the said meadows they repeated
certain pleasant verses of Virgil's 'Agriculture,' of Hesiod, and
of Politian's Husbandry'; would set abroach some witty Latin
epigrams, then immediately turned them into rondeaux and bal-
lades in the French language. In their feasting they would some-
times separate the water from the wine that was there with mixed
-as Cato teacheth, De re rustica, and Pliny-with an ivy cup;
would wash the wine in a basin full of water, and take it out
again with a funnel; would make the water go from one glass
to another, and would contrive little automatic engines,- that is
to say, machines moving of themselves.
1


## p. 12019 (#53) ###########################################

FRANÇOIS RABELAIS
12019
THE ABBEY OF THELEMA
THER
HERE was left only the monk to provide for; whom Gargantua
would have made Abbot of Seuillé, but he refused it. He
would have given him the Abbey of Bourgueil, or of Sanct
Florent which was better, or both if it pleased him; but the
monk gave him a very peremptory answer, that he would never
take upon him the charge nor government of monks. "For how
shall I be able," said he, "to rule over others, that have not full
power and command of myself? If you think I have done
you, or may hereafter do you, any acceptable service, give me
leave to found an abbey after my own mind and fancy. " The
motion pleased Gargantua very well; who thereupon offered him
all the country of Thelema by the river Loire, till within two
leagues of the great forest of Port-Huaut. The monk then re-
quested Gargantua to institute his religious order contrary to all
others.
"First, then," said Gargantua, "you must not build a wall
about your convent, for all other abbeys are strongly walled and
mured about. "
Moreover, seeing there are certain convents in the world
whereof the custom is, if any women come in,-I mean honor-
able and honest women,- they immediately sweep the ground
which they have trod upon; therefore was it ordained that if
any man or woman, entered into religious orders, should by
chance come within this new abbey, all the rooms should be
thoroughly washed and cleansed through which they had passed.
And because in other monasteries all is compassed, limited,
and regulated by hours, it was decreed that in this new structure
there should be neither clock nor dial, but that according to the
opportunities, and incident occasions, all their works should be
disposed of;"for," said Gargantua, "the greatest loss of time
that I know is to count the hours. What good comes of it?
Nor can there be any greater folly in the world than for one to
guide and direct his courses by the sound of a bell, and not by
his own judgment and discretion. "
Item, Because at that time they put no women into nun-
neries but such as were either one-eyed, lame, humpbacked, ill-
favored, misshapen, foolish, senseless, spoiled, or corrupt; nor
encloistered any men but those that were either sickly, ill-bred,
clownish, and the trouble of the house:-
――――


## p. 12020 (#54) ###########################################

12020
FRANÇOIS RABELAIS
("Apropos," said the monk,-"a woman that is neither fair
nor good, to what use serves she? " "To make a nun of," said
Gargantua. "Yea," said the monk, "and to make shirts. ")
Therefore, Gargantua said, was it ordained, that into this
religious order should be admitted no women that were not fair,
well-featured, and of a sweet disposition; nor men that were not
comely, personable, and also of a sweet disposition.
Item, Because in the convents of women men come not but
underhand, privily, and by stealth: it was therefore enacted that
in this house there shall be no women in case there be not men,
nor men in case there be not women.
Item, Because both men and women that are received into
religious orders after the year of their novitiate were constrained
and forced perpetually to stay there all the days of their life: it
was ordered that all of whatever kind, men or women, admitted
within this abbey, should have full leave to depart with peace
and contentment whensoever it should seem good to them so
to do.
Item, For that the religious men and women did ordinarily
make three vows, to wit, those of chastity, poverty, and obedi-
ence: it was therefore constituted and appointed that in this con-
vent they might be honorably married, that they might be rich,
and live at liberty. In regard to the legitimate age, the women.
were to be admitted from ten till fifteen, and the men from
twelve till eighteen.
For the fabric and furniture of the abbey, Gargantua caused
to be delivered out in ready money twenty-seven hundred thou-
sand eight hundred and one-and-thirty of those long-wooled
rams; and for every year until the whole work was completed
he allotted threescore nine thousand gold crowns, and as many
of the seven stars, to be charged all upon the receipt of the
river Dive. For the foundation and maintenance thereof he set-
tled in perpetuity three-and-twenty hundred threescore and nine
thousand five hundred and fourteen rose nobles, taxes exempted
from all in landed rents, and payable every year at the gate of
the abbey; and for this gave them fair letters patent.
The building was hexagonal, and in such a fashion that in
every one of the six corners there was built a great round tower,
sixty paces in diameter, and were all of a like form and big-
Upon the north side ran the river Loire, on the bank
whereof was situated the tower called Arctic. Going towards the
ness.


## p. 12021 (#55) ###########################################

FRANÇOIS RABELAIS
I 2021
east there was another called Calær, the next following Anatole,
the next Mesembrine, the next Hesperia, and the last Criere.
Between each two towers was the space of three hundred and
twelve paces.
The whole edifice was built in six stories, reckon-
ing the cellars underground for one. The second was vaulted
after the fashion of a basket-handle; the rest were coated with
Flanders plaster, in the form of a lamp foot. It was roofed with
fine slates of lead, carrying figures of baskets and animals; the
ridge gilt, together with the gutters, which issued without the
wall between the windows, painted diagonally in gold and blue
down to the ground, where they ended in great canals, which
carried away the water below the house into the river.
This same building was a hundred times more sumptuous and
magnificent than ever was Bonivet; for there were in it nine
thousand three hundred and two-and-thirty chambers, every one.
whereof had a withdrawing-room, a closet, a wardrobe, a chapel,
and a passage into a great hall. Between every tower, in the
midst of the said body of building, there was a winding stair,
whereof the steps were part of porphyry, which is a dark-red
marble spotted with white, part of Numidian stone, and part of
serpentine marble; each of those steps being two-and-twenty feet
in length and three fingers thick, and the just number of twelve
betwixt every landing-place. On every landing were two fair
antique arcades where the light came in; and by those they
went into a cabinet, made even with, and of the breadth of the
said winding, and they mounted above the roof and ended in
a pavilion. By this winding they entered on every side into
a great hall, and from the halls into the chambers. From the
Arctic tower unto the Criere were fair great libraries in Greek,
Latin, Hebrew, French, Italian, and Spanish, respectively dis-
tributed on different stories, according to their languages. In
the midst there was a wonderful winding stair, the entry whereof
was without the house, in an arch six fathoms broad.
It was
made in such symmetry and largeness that six men-at-arms,
lance on thigh, might ride abreast all up to the very top of all
the palace. From the tower Anatole to the Mesembrine were
fair great galleries, all painted with the ancient prowess, his-
tories, and descriptions of the world. In the midst thereof there
was likewise such another ascent and gate as we said there was
on the river-side.


## p. 12022 (#56) ###########################################

12022
FRANÇOIS RABELAIS
In the middle of the lower court there was a stately fountain
of fair alabaster. Upon the top thereof stood the three Graces,
with horns of abundance, and did jet out the water at their
breasts, mouth, ears, and eyes. The inside of the buildings in
this lower court stood upon great pillars of Cassydonian stone,
and porphyry in fair ancient arches. Within these were spacious
galleries, long and large, adorned with curious pictures - the
horns of bucks and unicorns; of the rhinoceros and the hippo-
potamus; the teeth and tusks of elephants, and other things well
worth the beholding. The lodging of the ladies took up all from
the tower Arctic unto the gate Mesembrine. The men possessed
the rest. Before the said lodging of the ladies, that they might
have their recreation, between the two first towers, on the out-
side, were placed the tilt-yard, the hippodrome, the theatre, the
swimming-bath, with most admirable baths in three stages, well
furnished with all necessary accommodation, and store of myrtle-
water. By the river-side was the fair garden of pleasure, and in
the midst of that a fair labyrinth. Between the two other towers
were the tennis and fives courts. Towards the tower Criere stood
the orchard full of all fruit-trees, set and ranged in a quincunx.
At the end of that was the great park, abounding with all sort
of game.
Betwixt the third couple of towers were the butts for
arquebus, crossbow, and arbalist. The stables were beyond the
offices, and before them stood the falconry, managed by falconers
very expert in the art; and it was yearly supplied by the Can-
dians, Venetians, Sarmatians, with all sorts of excellent birds,
eagles, gerfalcons, goshawks, falcons, sparrow-hawks, merlins, and
other kinds of them, so gentle and perfectly well trained that,
flying from the castle for their own disport, they would not fail
to catch whatever they encountered. The venery was a little
further off, drawing towards the park.
All the halls, chambers, and cabinets were hung with tapestry
of divers sorts, according to the seasons of the year. All the
pavements were covered with green cloth. The beds were em-
broidered. In every back chamber there was a looking-glass of
pure crystal, set in a frame of fine gold garnished with pearls,
and of such greatness that it would represent to the full the
whole person.
At the going out of the halls belonging to the
ladies' lodgings were the perfumers and hair-dressers, through
whose hands the gallants passed when they were to visit the


## p. 12023 (#57) ###########################################

FRANÇOIS RABELAIS
12023
ladies. These did every morning furnish the ladies chambers
with rose-water, musk, and angelica; and to each of them gave a
little smelling-bottle breathing the choicest aromatical scents.
The ladies on the foundation of this order were appareled
after their own pleasure and liking. But since, of their own free
will, they were reformed in manner as followeth :-
They wore stockings of scarlet which reached just three inches.
above the knee, having the border beautified with embroideries.
and trimming. Their garters were of the color of their brace-
lets, and circled the knee both over and under. Their shoes and
slippers were either of red, violet, or crimson velvet, cut à barbe
d'écrévisse.
Next to their smock they put on a fair corset of pure silk
camblet; above that went the petticoat of white, red tawny, or
gray taffety. Above this was the cotte in cloth of silver, with
needlework either (according to the temperature and disposition
of the weather) of satin, damask, velvet, orange, tawny, green,
ash-colored, blue, yellow, crimson, cloth of gold, cloth of silver,
or some other choice stuff, according to the day.
Their gowns, correspondent to the season, were either of cloth
of gold with silver edging, of red satin covered with gold purl,
of taffety, white, blue, black, or tawny, of silk serge, silk cam-
blet, velvet, cloth of silver, silver tissue, cloth of gold, velvet, or
figured satin with golden threads.
In the summer, some days, instead of gowns, they wore fair
mantles of the above-named stuff, or capes of violet velvet with
edging of gold, or with knotted cordwork of gold embroidery,
garnished with little Indian pearls. They always carried a fair
plume of feathers, of the color of their muff, bravely adorned with
spangles of gold. In the winter-time they had their taffety
gowns of all colors, as above named, and those lined with the
rich furrings of wolves, weasels, Calabrian martlet, sables, and
other costly furs. Their beads, rings, bracelets, and collars were
of precious stones, such as carbuncles, rubies, diamonds, sap-
phires, emeralds, turquoises, garnets, agates, beryls, and pearls.
Their head-dressing varied with the season of the year. In
winter it was of the French fashion; in the spring of the Span-
ish; in summer of the fashion of Tuscany, except only upon
the holy-days and Sundays, at which times they were accoutred
in the French mode, because they accounted it more honorable,
better befitting the modesty of a matron.


## p. 12024 (#58) ###########################################

12024
FRANÇOIS RABELAIS
The men were appareled after their fashion. Their stockings
were of worsted or of serge, of white, black, or scarlet. Their
breeches were of velvet, of the same color with their stockings,
or very near, embroidered and cut according to their fancy.
Their doublet was of cloth of gold, cloth of silver, velvet, satin,
damask, or taffety, of the same colors, cut, embroidered, and
trimmed up in the same manner. The points were of silk of
the same colors, the tags were of gold enameled. Their coats
and jerkins were of cloth of gold, cloth of silver, gold tissue,
or velvet embroidered, as they thought fit. Their gowns were
every whit as costly as those of the ladies. Their girdles were
of silk, of the color of their doublets. Every one had a gallant
sword by his side, the hilt and handle whereof were gilt, and the
scabbard of velvet, of the color of his breeches, the end in gold,
and goldsmith's work. The dagger of the same.
Their caps
were of black velvet, adorned with jewels and buttons of gold.
Upon that they wore a white plume, most prettily and minion-
like parted by so many rows of gold spangles, at the end where-
of hung dangling fair rubies, emeralds, etc.
But so great was the sympathy between the gallants and the
ladies, that every day they were appareled in the same livery.
And that they might not miss, there were certain gentlemen ap-
pointed to tell the youths every morning what colors the ladies.
would on that day wear; for all was done according to the pleas-
ure of the ladies. In these so handsome clothes, and habiliments
so rich, think not that either one or other of either sex did waste
any time at all; for the masters of the wardrobes had all their
raiments and apparel so ready for every morning, and the
chamber-ladies were so well skilled, that in a trice they would be
dressed, and completely in their clothes from head to foot. And
to have these accoutrements with the more conveniency, there
was about the wood of Thelema a row of houses half a league
long, very neat and cleanly, wherein dwelt the goldsmiths, lapi-
daries, embroiderers, tailors, gold-drawers, velvet-weavers, tapestry-
makers, and upholsterers, who wrought there every one in his
own trade, and all for the aforesaid friars and nuns. They were
furnished with matter and stuff from the hands of Lord Nausi-
clete, who every year brought them seven ships from the Perlas
and Cannibal Islands, laden with ingots of gold, with raw silk,
with pearls and precious stones. And if any pearls began to
grow old, and lose somewhat of their natural whiteness and lus-


## p. 12025 (#59) ###########################################

FRANÇOIS RABELAIS
12025
tre, those by their art they did renew by tendering them to cocks
to be eaten, as they used to give casting unto hawks.
All their life was spent not in laws, statutes, or rules, but
according to their own free will and pleasure. They rose out of
their beds when they thought good; they did eat, drink, labor,
sleep, when they had a mind to it, and were disposed for it.
None did awake them, none did constrain them to eat, drink, nor
do any other thing; for so had Gargantua established it. In all
their rule, and strictest tie of their order, there was but this one
clause to be observed:
_______
FAY CE QUE VOULDRAS
Because men that are free, well born, well bred, and conver-
sant in honest companies, have naturally an instinct and spur
that prompteth them unto virtuous actions and withdraws them
from vice, which is called honor. Those same men, when by
base subjection and constraint they are brought under and kept
down, turn aside from that noble disposition by which they
formerly were inclined to virtue, to shake off and break the bond
of servitude; for it is agreeable with the nature of man to long
after things forbidden, and to desire what is denied.
By this liberty they entered into a very laudable emulation:
to do all of them what they saw did please one. If any of the
gallants or ladies should say, "Let us drink," they would all
drink. If any one of them said, "Let us play," they all played.
If one said, "Let us go for our delight into the fields," they
went all. If it were to go a-hawking or a-hunting, the ladies,
mounted upon well-paced nags, carried on their lovely fists (min-
iardly begloved every one of them) either a sparrow-hawk, or a
laneret, or a merlin, and the gallants carried the other kinds of
birds. So nobly were they taught, that there was not one amongst
them but could read, write, sing, play upon musical instruments,
speak five or six several languages, and compose in them all very
quaintly, both in verse and prose. Never were seen knights
so valiant, so noble and worthy, so dexterous and skillful both
on foot and a-horseback, more active, more nimble and quick, or
better handling all manner of weapons, than were there. Never
were seen ladies so proper, so miniard, less forward, or more
ready with hand and needle in every honest and free action
belonging to that sex, than were there.


## p. 12026 (#60) ###########################################

12026
FRANÇOIS RABELAIS
For this reason, when the time came that any man of the said
abbey, either at the request of his parents or for some other
cause, had a mind to go out of it, he carried along with him one
of the ladies,—namely, her whom he had before that chosen
for his mistress, and they were married together. And if
they had formerly in Thelema lived in devotion and amity, much
more did they continue therein in the state of matrimony; and
did entertain that mutual love till the very last day of their life,
in no less vigor and fervency than at the very day of their
wedding.
All the foregoing citations are made from Readings from Rabelais,' by
Walter Besant


## p. 12026 (#61) ###########################################



## p. 12026 (#62) ###########################################


JEAN BAPTISTE RACINE.


## p. 12026 (#63) ###########################################

1
1
br. st.
وا
. 11
14
14.
T
it


## p. 12026 (#64) ###########################################


ཨ ཀ


## p. 12027 (#65) ###########################################

12027
JEAN RACINE
(1639-1699)
BY FREDERICK MORRIS WARREN
B
Y THE time French classical tragedy had reached Racine, in
its development from the Latin drama of Seneca, its form
and style had become definitely fixed. Like its Latin pro-
genitor it consisted of five acts, subdivided into scenes; was written
in long lines, - the Alexandrine verse of twelve syllables,—and ob-
served in its stage setting and the duration of its action the unities
of place and time. But in the process of assimilation to modern
requirements the chorus of the ancients had been dropped, their
monologues had been shortened and subjected to interruptions by the
theatrical device of confidants, and Seneca's lyricism had been given a
stronger admixture of the dramatic element, by the pressure of audi-
ences which had been trained to the action and episodes of the old
miracle plays. All the questions of scenic art which had been agi-
tated for four generations, and from which Corneille's early years
were not exempt, were settled before Racine began. He had only to
take his structure as he found it, and fill it in with such material as
would be in harmony with the French conception of tragedy.
Racine was genius enough to make a place for himself, while con-
forming to these limitations. Corneille had produced his dramatic
effects by opposing the passion of love to some general conception of
duty, honor, or patriotism. His plays treat these topics subjectively,
didactically. They abound in maxims. Their characters are ideal,
perhaps. Their heroes often win attention away from the heroines.
Racine's method is different. He belongs to another, a new gener-
ation, inspired by a different spirit. Instead of being general, his
treatment is individual. His themes relate to private life, not public.
He is objective, studying humanity around him. He indulges rarely
in abstract ideas. If we might apply a modern term to him we
might call him realistic. Certainly he stood, as did Molière, in the
eyes of his contemporaries, for a close adherence to the plain facts
of existence. And in the judgment of the eighteenth century Racine
was "natural. "
Furthermore he worked from within outward. It is an analysis of
character which he aims at, or rather a study of the effects of some


## p. 12028 (#66) ###########################################

12028
JEAN RACINE
passion - almost always love, or its concomitant emotions of jeal-
ousy, hatred, revenge, or remorse, rarely ambition or bigotry.
on the
human heart, with the actions that result from it. The dramatic
solution in Racine is obtained by the clash of such passions. In
other words, Racine's situations are brought about by his charac-
ters, whereas with Corneille it was the situations which produced the
characters. And it so happens, whether from the very nature of
things or from a fixed purpose, that most of Racine's characters are
women. Few of his men can support comparison with them.
Racine's career shows an impulsive temperament,- the tempera-
ment of a poet. He was born at the small town of La Ferté-Milon,
some distance to the northeast of Paris, on December 21st, 1639. His
Christian name, Jean, was in the family. His parents dying before
he was three years old, he fell to the care of his relatives, who sent
him to the college at Beauvais. Leaving this institution at the age
of sixteen, he entered the Jansenist school at Port Royal, where he
imbibed that love for the Greek poets which was to manifest itself
so vigorously in his later works. The foundations of an ardent piety
were evidently laid here also, though they were to be hidden many
years by other interests and occupations. On leaving Port Royal in
1658, and entering Harcourt College at Paris, to receive his final
training, Racine, with his literary instincts and his capacity for en-
joying life, was quickly admitted to a pleasure-loving set of authors
and amateurs, of whom La Fontaine the fabulist was one. Encour-
aged by them, he threw himself into poetry, and in 1660 attracted
public attention and royal munificence by an ode, The Nymph of
the Seine,' written on the occasion of Louis XIV. 's marriage. His
devout family connections, alarmed for his salvation, rusticated him to
the south of France, where he was to study for orders. But in 1663
this experiment was abandoned. Racine returned to Paris, met La
Fontaine again, formed acquaintance with Boileau and Molière, and
under their sanction began his theatrical career.
After one unsuccessful venture, his 'Thébaïde' (1664) was played
by Molière's company. It was followed the next season by 'Alex-
andre. ' Both of these dramas reflect the ideas of older authors, par-
ticularly Corneille. But in 1667, with Andromaque,' a delineation
of maternal love in conflict with a widow's fidelity, set off by the
love and jealousy of suitors and rivals, Racine found his peculiar
and lasting manner. The enthusiasm aroused by the psychological
analyses of 'Andromaque' had been exceeded in Paris only by the
delight occasioned by the romantic declamations of The Cid. ' He
next tried a comedy of an Aristophanic bent, The Pleaders' (1668),
a satire of legal procedure. But this was Racine's sole deviation
from the tragic path. Britannicus' (1669), on the imperiousness of


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JEAN RACINE
12029
Agrippina and the baseness of Nero; 'Bérénice' (1670), the idyl
of the Jewish princess forsaken by her lover Titus, for reasons of
State; Bajazet' (1672), the vengeance of a queen on her rival and
faithless lover; 'Mithridate' (1673), the Oriental despot, the enemy
of Rome, disputing a girl's heart with his own son; 'Iphigénie'
(1674), a mother's love, oblivious of all but the object of its passion,
contrasted with filial affection and obedience,- all these pictures of
the heart of woman were summed up, reached their culmination, in
the love, shame, jealousy, revenge, and remorse which the poet im-
agined in the story of 'Phèdre' (1677). The great parts in Racine
were for the heroines. The heroes rarely attained the level of being
even counterpoises.
A literary cabal in favor of the rhymester Pradon prevented the
immediate success of 'Phèdre'; and this circumstance, coupled with
his reviving devotion, led Racine to renounce the stage and its sur-
roundings. He was made historiographer of the King, married, and
divided his time between his family and the court. But the old fire
was only smoldering within him. It burst forth into new and brighter
flame when at the summons of Madame de Maintenon a religious
drama was demanded for the girls' school at St. Cyr. The fusion of
Racine's piety with the gratification of his poetic ideals was now
possible; and 'Esther' (1689), a Scriptural idyl built on the model of
French tragedy, with the addition of the lyric choruses of the Greeks,
displayed his talent at its best. Another sacred tragedy with choruses,
'Athalie (1691), was lost to Racine's contemporaries by doubts about
the wisdom of schoolgirls acting. The remainder of our author's
life was passed in the exercise of his official duties, in the composi-
tion of religious hymns, and the penning of biting epigrams ridicul-
ing the playwrights of the time. He died the last year of the century,
on April 26th.
The first part of Racine's dramatic work, from 'Andromaque' to
'Phèdre,' being strictly within the canons of French classical tragedy,
calls for no further mention. But the second part, though consisting
of but two plays, drawn from sacred sources, presents certain novel-
ties. The addition of the choruses, imitated as they evidently were
from Greek models, suggests that French tragedy, in its conflict
with its rival the opera, would not be above borrowing some of that
rival's attractions. Besides, 'Athalie,' which is regarded by many as
the best example of French tragedy, takes certain liberties with the
scenery and the number of persons in evidence on the stage; and
this points to a modification, an enlarging, of the scope of the tradi-
tional play.
'Athalie' is also to be noticed for its plot. The element of love
does not enter into it. It is the strife of an unscrupulous, ambitious,


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