VIII.

The palm, the cocoa, the plantain broad,
The shrinking mimosa, the lavish gourd,
Of parasite tendril, and flower, and leaf,
The birds had dropped on the barren reef.

IX.

And the ship returned, and its anchor fell
In the still lagoon, where the rolling swell
Was fended off by a ledge that ran

In parallel curve to the island's span.

X.

Did this anchor bring tidings of what lay there
At the roots of the isle, which was ocean bare ?
When they passed it first, did they guess for whom
The new world had grown,-for their comrade's tomb?

The Precieuses of the Seventeenth Century.

BY JOHN OXEnford.

EVERY body who takes an interest in French literature has at some time of his life become acquainted with Molière's early comedy, Les Précieuses Ridicules; and as comparatively few persons are familiar with the substantive précieuse save in connection with that celebrated piece, the belief is pretty generally established that a female to whom it was applied was, as a matter of course, ridiculous. The play shows us two young ladies, who seek their rule of conduct in the ponderous romances of Mademoiselle Scudéry, and regard the pompous gallantries with which those works abound as the ne plus ultra of elegance and refinement. From the same source they borrow high-sounding names, in favour of which they drop the unpretending "Madelon" and "Cathos" they received at the baptismal font; and they interlard their discourse with pedantic phrases, which they substitute for the expressions in common use,—very much after the fashion of the English prig who is reported to have said "Amputate the luminaries," instead of "Snuff the candles." In their dislike of a prosaic courtship, and their inclination to follow the example of romance heroines rather than comply with the precepts of ordinary life, they appear at the first glance to resemble our old friend Miss Lydia Languish; but the resemblance is extremely superficial. Miss Lydia, who would rather marry a poor Ensign Beverley than a rich Captain Absolute, symbolises the "love-in-a-cottage" school of sentimentality,-that desire to break through the artificial conventionalities of society, and live in a i state of natural simplicity, which found so remarkable an expression in the writings of Rousseau. On the contrary, the précieuses of Molière, the affected daughters of the bon bourgeois Gorgibus, long to enter a society the rules of which are infinitely more conventional than those under which they have been brought up. They disgust their father scarcely less by their strange rhodomontade than by the expensive apparatus of their toilette. The gallants who sport with their folly are not captains who pretend to be ensigns, but valets who affect the rank of marquises. It is no dream-land to which they aspire; they are the reverse of "romantic," in the common acceptation of the word; for the notions which appear fantastic to Gorgibus refer to things which have a real existence in fashionable circles. In a word, Madelon and Cathos are simply young ladies who wish to take a position among the nobility, and are only another type of the weakness satirised in Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme.

However, there is no doubt that Molière, while he showed that preciosité was ridiculous when affected by the daughter of a bon bourgeois, also cast ridicule, intentionally or not, on the tone and phraseology which had become common among persons of a higher class; and preciosité in general is still marked with the stigma which the comic poet somewhat recklessly

put upon it. Only within the last few years has the world in general been informed that the ridiculous précieuse was merely the base imitator of the estimable précieux and précieuses, who, far from being ridiculous, comprised the best intellects of France. Let the reader who would move in the atmosphere of veritable préciosité devour M. Victor Cousin's delightful book, Le Jeunesse de Madame de Longueville, and turn over the pages of the volume entitled Précieux et Précieuses, in which M. Livet has collected his studies of the seventeenth century. If, however, he would merely sniff the said atmosphere for half an hour, he may content himself with the following pages, in which I have attempted, chiefly under the guidance of the two authors just mentioned, to give some notion both of the genuine and the Brummagem article.

Let the Brummagem come first, being more in accordance with received impressions. Somaize, who shares with Molière the honour of exhibiting preciosité on its ridiculous side only, has bequeathed to us the attributes of such a précieux as would be a fitting companion of the Précieuses Ridicules, and these have been effectively worked up into a tableau de genre by M. Livet.

An imaginary gentleman from the provinces, Bélisandre by name, has come up to Paris, his head filled with pleasing anticipations respecting those select circles in which all the men are well-behaved, and all the women elaborately coquettish; and he is fortunate enough to find an abbe galant named Brindesius, who promises to introduce him to one of the delightful coteries. Deeply impressed with the honour which is in store for him, he devotes the evening which precedes the day of introduction to a course of preparatory study. He turns over the fashionable romances, he practises the most elegant manner of entering and leaving a room, he lays in a store of choice expressions, and before he goes to bed he is thoroughly curled, pomaded, and perfumed. At break of day, he further prepares himself by an employment of rare scents and cosmetics, and attires himself in clothes of most unimpeachable fashion. The labours of the toilette complete, he mounts into his carriage; and at ten o'clock, accompanied by his mentor, he arrives at the residence of Cléogarite, a noted précieuse, who of course lives in the Marais, then the most exquisite quarter of Paris. The knocker by which they denote their arrival is muffled, lest its too violent sound should disturb the refined conversation of the guests assembled within the sacred precincts. Cléogarite is in her bed, which stands upon a dais, and is separated from the rest of the room by a balustrade. The light of day is softened by the curtains, which are still drawn; a screen extends from the door to the fireplace; the walls are hung with portraits, and the bookshelves are laden with new books published by Sercy, the Parisian Murray of the time. The ruelle is occupied by several of the ladies, of whom those attached to the court are honoured with fauteuils, while simple chairs suffice for those of less dis

* The ruelle is the part of the room between the bed and the wall, and is constantly mentioned in connection with these réunions.-J. O.

tinction; but they are for the most part alike in playing with small canes, which apparently belong to their insignia as précieuses. Bélisandre is at first somewhat embarrassed at finding that every eye is fixed on him; but he soon plucks up courage, and perceiving that there is not a chair at his disposal, he modestly spreads his cloak on the ground, and sits at the feet of one of the ladies. The conversation, which was interrupted by his entrance, is now resumed, and turns upon an assemblage that was held on the previous evening at the residence of a noted précieuse called Athénodore, where, it is observed, a great number of "alcovists"-that is to say, gallant gentlemen-were present, and several ladies, the "snow of whose faces was melting,"-in other words, who were advanced in years. Scandal then became the order of the day, and one Aglanide is severely cri ticised. Her "light is at a distance," her "soul is badly lodged,” though there are several persons who believe that she has "an egg hidden under the cinders;" by which several expressions the different opinions are indicated that her knowledge is of a confused kind, and that she is devoid of intelligence, or at any rate is without the means of using it. After this her personal attractions pass in view, one of her defenders observing that the "mirrors of her soul" (her eyes) are very fine, and that she "articulates her voice" (sings) very well. Flatteries are then exchanged, and the hour for "meridianal necessities" (dinner-time) having arrived, the assembly is dissolved, though not without settling the business which is to be done on future occasions, and which comprises the choice of a coat-of-arms for the précieuses.

So much for the shams. For the type of the genuine estimable précieuse we cannot do better than direct our glances towards the famous Madame de Rambouillet, who, whether she was the first (as M. Livet thinks) or only one of the first (as M. Cousin thinks), whose réunions gave a new tone to the manners of the seventeenth century, was a most important personage in her generation. She found French society sadly deficient in polish, and she proved herself an excellent polisher.

Accustomed as we were for something like a century and a half to regard Paris as the polite city par excellence, which other towns could only revere and copy,-taught, as we were, at a comparatively recent period to hail with delight the creation of a literature the native vigour of which marked our emancipation from the artificial refinement brought to perfection in the age of the Grand Monarque,-we have some difficulty in conceiving that in the early part of the seventeenth century France held a very low rank as a polished nation. Delicacy and gallantry were to be learned in Italy; gravity and decorum were to be borrowed from Spain; but as for France, that best of men and kings, Henry IV., had left what some would call a terribly "rough lot" behind him.

In the first place, the religious troubles, or, to speak more properly, the political troubles, which were associated with the name of religion long after the zeal to which, perhaps, they owed their origin had become extinct, broke out with a renewed vigour when the king who had contrived to balance

1

the two contending parties had ceased to breathe, and the government was left in the hands of a regency; and here was a fruitful source of disorder that could not but affect more or less every class in the kingdom. Moreover, the great Henry, admirable in so many respects, had been himself no model of social refinement. Trained in a camp, amid the storms of a terrible civil war, he preserved through life those manners of the rough soldier which are so preeminently distinct from those of the military swell, while advancing years rather increased than diminished the force of his always unruly passions; and the fine gentlemen of the court, by a rude irregularity of conduct, indirectly flattered their jovial chief. Nor were the higher clergy, who for the most part were recruited from the young nobility, much more strict than the laity; for they derived large revenues from dioceses which they rarely blessed with the light of their countenances, and expended them in the most mundane fashion possible. for language, there was none that could properly be called French at all; for even the court was a Babel, at which every variety of provincial dialect found a voice; and though the learned had settled among themselves the sort of phraseology that ought to be written, their decision was without effect upon oral discussion, and folks went on talking as they pleased, unimpeded by the conventions of pedantic purists. The subjects of conversation were on a par with the form, and the coarse tales of the garrison were transferred, without modification, to the precincts of the court, where & rude jest produced the heartiest enjoyment, and the habit of "calling a spade a spade" was not only tolerated but encouraged.

Now the first précieux was neither more nor less than the gentleman who was first taught to confine his conversation to themes fitted for discourse, to express himself in becoming language, and altogether to conduct himself with propriety. The Whitechapel costermonger instructed to say " potatoes" in lieu of "taters;" to substitute the occasional employment of the pocket-handkerchief for the indiscriminate use of the cuff; and to find a more delicate expression for anger than the condemnation of his own eyes to eternal destruction,-such a costermonger would be a précieux of the East End. And great reason have we to believe, that when Madame de Rambouillet imposed upon herself the task of teaching manners to the French nobility, she found as hard work to do as any Home Missionary of the present day who devotes himself to the establishment of a ragged school.

She entered upon her duties endowed with the best qualifications. Her father was Jean de Vivonne, first Marquis de Pisani, who had held important offices under three successive kings; her mother was Julia Savelli, member of an illustrious Italian family, which boasted of two popes and several cardinals. Brought up in Italy, and perfectly acquainted with the Italian and Spanish languages, she was married, in 1600, at the early age of twelve, to the Marquis de Rambouillet, who, himself only twenty-three, was regarded by his wife with all the respect due to a senior. The rude manners of the court being little suited to the austerity of her moral

VOL. III.

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